Page 32 of The Gift of Patience
He sat in his brother’s study, looking out the window, pondering just that when Westwood himself walked in.
“You look done in, Brother,” Ashley said as he turned to see who had entered.
Westwood gripped his back and rolled his neck. “Sitting in a tree for hours is not as easy as it used to be.”
Ashley chuckled. “That is the least favourite part of surveillance,” he agreed. “Any luck?”
“None. It’s almost as if they know we are on to them.”
“The only way that could be is if someone is passing information. But Miss Whitford and I have spent the morning questioning the servants and there’s very little to go on.”
“What little is there?” Westwood asked as he slumped in one of the comfortable armchairs.
“I cannot say that it’s much of anything, only that one of Sir Horace’s maids is walking out with one of your grooms—Samuel. We have already deduced that the bridle path between the two estates is probably the easiest access to Taywards.”
Westwood nodded and frowned. “That is the groom that I’ve had watching that entrance.”
“It may be nothing more than innocent meetings, but we need to find out.”
His brother inclined his head. “I will change the watch up or set someone to watch him.”
Faith waddled in the room, and they both rose to their feet.
Ashley could not miss the look of concern on his brother’s face. Faith’s time was coming and it was understandably worrisome.
“I saw you come in. Did you learn anything?” she asked.
“Nothing except a better acquaintance with our neighbourhood. There is a surprising amount of traffic at the docks, with a great deal of building going on. How are you feeling?”
“As a whale about to burst.”
Ashley struggled not to smile.
“And now, Lady Fagge is insistent we and our guests attend her dinner party.” She waved a letter about.
“Can she not see you are in no shape to attend social functions?” Westwood’s voice was laced with annoyance.
“I am perfectly capable of attending social functions. I simply hate being pressured into it because she has daughters she cannot rid herself of.”
Ashley had a thought, though a reluctant one. “Perhaps we should attend. More insight into our current situation?” he suggested.
Westwood scowled. “This is the best excuse I’ve had to avoid our neighbours in years and now you say I must? I know, you and your illustrious troop may go. It is the bachelors she wants, after all.”
“That is hardly a neighbourly sentiment,” Ashley teased.
“No, indeed,” he retorted with a heavy sigh. “When is the dinner?”
“Tonight,” Faith replied.
“I doubt Renforth will wish to send everyone. We need to remain vigilant in our watch.”
“He just relieved me at the clearing. Why do you not find out who he wishes to send and then I will send a reply to Lady Fagge.”
“I beg your pardon, my lord,” the butler said from the doorway.
“What is it, Armstrong?”
“A missive has just come for Major Manners. His messenger will be in the kitchens resting should you wish to reply.”
