Page 31 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
He’d talked to Ewan himself.The description he gave was convincing, but what the devil was she doing traveling alone by coach?
“What word on the maid?”he asked.“Did she return to Charles and Graciela?”
“No answer to that yet.They’re on their way to London.Perhaps the maid will arrive with them.”
“And Barton?”
Kincaid chewed a mouthful of food and swallowed.“I sent a man in to talk to her.Swears neither she nor La Fanelle know aught of Jane’s whereabouts.She hasn’t left that shop except to make a delivery or two, with none to Lady Jane.”
Shaldon took a sip of his coffee.It had gone tepid.
“Perhaps she’s there at the shop, upstairs in the living quarters.Perhaps she slipped in without us seeing her.”He set down the cup.“Go in and have a look.”
“Marie will stick a knife in me again.”
“Wait until she’s gone out and talk to Barton yourself.”
“And you think she’ll not lie to me too?”Kincaid scoffed.“Why not search for the painting there, since that’s also gone missing.”
Unease threaded through Shaldon.Jane had sent Fox off promising to prepare the painting for transport herself.
He shook it off.She wouldn’t have—couldn’t have—hired men to attack his men.She didn’t have a mercenary bone in her body.Nothing her cousin said about her independence could change his mind about that.
“Might Cheswick be right, and she’s run off to Ireland?”
“Not without her clothing and personal effects.Let’s start again—if Lady Jane was to go to ground in London, where would she hide?”
And why?He couldn’t seem to shake the question, or the obvious answer.He’d pawed her.He’d teased her about marrying a man she found distasteful.He’d ordered her to stay in Yorkshire and miss a once in a lifetime occasion she’d been looking forward to.
She loathed him.
“We shouldn’t ignore Cheswick’s speculation about Ireland,” Kincaid said.
Cheswick had implied that Shaldon bore some of the blame in her brother’s death.Did Jane feel that way also?She must.
What else had he missed about her?
“No.Ewan saw her on a London coach.”He rubbed at his jaw.“Might she have taken a ship from here to the Continent?”
Kincaid pushed back his plate and stood, wincing.“After I visit the newspaper office, I’ll check at the docks.”
“Send a man.Go to the modiste’s shop first.”
“Better I send a man to see Marie.”
“It’s been too many years for Marie to hold a grudge.”
Kincaid turned a reproachful look on him.
He sighed.Of course, he was wrong.He’d been settling old grudges for the last few years.A woman could be just as vengeful.
“You don’t know Marie as well as I do.”
That was true.Kincaid’s romance with La Fanelle had been years ago in France.The enmity Kincaid felt toward her was still fresh though.
“Don’t over-tax your wound,” he said.
Kincaid grunted and left.
