Page 58 of Peril in Piccadilly
She sounded worried, and of course I was past concern into anxiety myself. Nonetheless I told her, as calmly as I could, that, “I’m sure he’s just fine. He probably went off with a friend and didn’t even consider that I might worry.”
“Would you like us to motor up?”
“No, don’t be silly,” I said. “By the time you made it here, he’d most likely be home. It’s much too soon to do anything like that.”
“Then will you phone us again in the morning and let us know whether he’s there or not?”
I promised her I would, and on that note we hung up. I deposited further coins into the device and asked the operator to put me through to Sutherland Hall in Wiltshire.
There was clicking and whirring on the line, and then ringing. After a few seconds, the phone was answered. “You have reached Sutherland Hall.”
“Tidwell,” I said. “This is?—”
“Miss Darling.”
“Precisely, Tidwell. Tell me, has Mr. Astley phoned this afternoon?”
“Mr. Astley?”
“Christopher,” I said. “Has Christopher rung up to talk to St George? Is St George even at Sutherland Hall, or is he in Dorset with Laetitia?”
“His lordship is presently at home,” Tidwell said smoothly, and I wondered whether I imagined the hint of intrigue in his voice, or whether it truly was there. Christopher had said that everyone knew about Crispin’s feelings for me, including the servants. Did that mean that Tidwell knew? Was he thinking about it right now?
Tidwell rather liked me, I thought. I liked him back. Certainly a lot better than I did Uncle Harold, or for that matter Crispin himself a lot of the time.
“Would you like for me to fetch his lordship?” Tidwell prodded, and I shook myself free of my musings.
“That won’t be necessary, Tidwell. I simply wanted to ask?—”
“It’s no problem, Miss Darling. His lordship is standing right here.”
I definitely didn’t imagine that undertone. Tidwell was, unless I missed my guess, gloating.
“Tidwell,” I cried, “I don’t want—” but of course by then it was too late.
“You don’t want me?” Crispin’s voice said. “Yes, Darling. I’m well aware of it.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you,” I said crossly, because of course he would lead off with that, and while before my talk with Christopher I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, now I wondered how I could have been so stupid as to not recognize the many double entendres he often utilized. “I simply don’t have a need to talk to you. Tidwell could have told me what I wanted to know.”
And, in fact, already had done.
“I’ve always suspected that you like Tidwell better than you do me,” Crispin said.
“Of course I like Tidwell better,” I answered. “Tidwell’s the best thing about Sutherland Hall. I’ve often said so.”
“Of course you have, Darling.” He sounded indulgent, and I couldn’t believe I had never noticed that before, either. When I didn’t respond, he added, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I wanted to know if you had heard from Christopher,” I said, although I already knew the answer. Not only had Tidwell assured me that Christopher hadn’t rung up, but Crispin was talking to me the way he always did. If he knew that Christopher had spilled the beans on his feelings, that wasn’t likely to be the case. He’s plenty brazen, and could undoubtedly have carried it off in style had he been forced to, but he had picked up the receiver from Tidwell by choice, and I didn’t think he would have volunteered to speak to me had he known. He would undoubtedly be afraid of me taking the mickey.
That was clearly not a concern today, because he smirked. I could hear it all the way from Wiltshire. “Why? Is he missing?”
When I didn’t answer the question, he repeated it, but this time without the smirk and with a lot more consternation. “Wait, Kit’s missing?”
“I don’t know that he’s missing,” I said. “I’m sure he’s just fine somewhere. I just don’t know where he is. We parted ways in front of Sweetings at one—are you familiar with Sweetings, St George?”
“Everyone’s familiar with Sweetings,” Crispin said. “Where was he headed?”
“Nowhere. I was going inside?—”
