Page 51 of The Lyon Whisperer
She leaned closer. “Very interesting.”
“Yes,” he said, his tone brisk, and turned back toward his mount.
“You noticed the quality, then?”
He paused and glanced at her over his shoulder, a flicker of unwitting curiosity in his dark eyes. “Quality?”
“The blue material you hold there does not comprise your average rag, sir. It’s silk, and by the look of it, quite fine silk.”
He gave an indeterminate grunt.
“Is that a handkerchief there?”
Brows furrowed in concentration, he pulled the square of now-dingy white linen free to examine it. “It is.”
“Looks to be of higher quality, too, does it not? Is there a monogram?”
The dubious look he sent her told her found her question ridiculous. “No.”
He moved to his horse and stuffed the cloth into the saddlebags, leaving her feeling a tad foolish.
“I do think it odd whoever set the fire used such costly cloth.” She sniffed. “Your average villain is unlikely to have bolts of imported silk at his fingertips.”
He paused in the act of buckling the bags, eyes narrowed on something in the distance.
“What is it? Do you see something else?”
He resumed cinching the bags. “No. It occurs to me I am clearly overtired and you are absolutely correct.”
She grinned. “I am?”
“Yes. If Dodd is behind these fires as I suspect, how did he get his hands on the expensive cuts of fabric—scraps, or no—that he soaked in accelerant?”
She considered his question. “Perhaps a member of his family works as a seamstress?”
“Perhaps.” He slipped his booted foot in the stirrup and, with seemingly no effort at all, remounted his horse.
“Where to now?” she asked.
His saddle leather creaked as he shifted in his seat to fix her with a steady eye. “Now, we return to the inn, where you will gather your things and return home in the coach.”
She stiffened. “And you, sir?”
“I mean to question Dodd—after I have slept. I will join you at home later tonight.”
“I could—”
“No.” The implacable undertone in the single-syllable word told her she’d pushed him as far as she could for one day.
“Very well.”
He nodded, apparently satisfied. He set off for the road into town.
She glared at his back and urged her mount forward. She had assumed after he rested and bathed, and perhaps after some food, they would talk about what transpired in the bedchamber last night before he dashed off to fight the fire.
Apparently he had other plans, or perhaps he had simply forgotten the incident all together.
No matter. He wanted her out of his hair? So be it.
