“That is not what the child said.” Georgie glared at him, daring him to deny what they had heard.
“That’s right.” The youth slid off Barfleur’s back, grabbing the keepnet as he did. “Didn’t think ye’d get caught, did ye?” The lad took a deep breath and looked like he was about to air his grievances when Turley gave his head a slight shake and motioned for the boy to go. Surprisingly, the youth took his unspoken advice and dashed toward the meadow.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I cannot believe you would attempt to steal fish from a local child. What the devil were you thinking?”
Barfleur said several mumbled words, but the only one Georgie heard was “wager.” She bit down on her lip and counted to ten, but it didn’t help. She fisted her hands on her hips and didn’t care what she looked like. “You were going torobthat poor boy who was probably trying to keep his family from starving for a wager? Do you know what would happen to him ifhehad stolen fromyou?” The man dropped his head and shrugged. “He would have gone to prison where he could have been hanged or transported.”
“Miss Featherton is correct,” Turley said. “If your positions were reversed, the penalties for the lad would have been severe. If he calls for the magistrate I shall be forced to stand as witness against you.”
Barfleur’s head snapped up so fast, she thought she heard it. “His attention is finally engaged.” She had kept her voice low enough that only Turley could hear her. Now she raised it. “You might wish to find a way to forestall him from getting the magistrate involved. We do not know his name, but I could give a good description of him and we can discover where he lives. Whereupon, you may send over an offering sufficient to calm his ire.”
“I agree with Miss Featherton. The lad didn’t look like the type to keep this quiet. If word gets around that one of Lady Turner’s guests attempted to rob a local child, it would harm her reputation.”
For the first time the gentleman looked nervous. “Yes. I shall—I shall do that. If you can assist me in finding him I shall make amends.”
She and Turley followed Mr. Barfleur back to the house. Once there, she would set about trying to identify the child.
But when she excused herself, Turley said, “I’ll go with you.”
“I thought you might guard Mr. Barfleur.”
“There is no need. He won’t want his hostess to gain a reputation for hosting unsavory fellows at her house.” Turley grinned. “Aside from that, Turner would thrash him.”
“Very well.” She removed her bonnet. “I thought I would start in the kitchen.”
Turley’s brows slanted together. “Why the cook?”
Apparently, he’d missed the lad saying that he could get more money for them. “He had a lot of fish. I would wager my pearls that he sells them.” She raised one brow. “And who do you think in this area would require that large of a catch?”
Gavin would never have thought of that. He’d always known Georgie was extremely intelligent, now he had proof. “Of course. That also explains why he refused to accept Barfleur’s miserly offer.”
He followed her as she went through the green baize door and down to the kitchens. The sight was astonishing. Kitchen maids were chopping, cracking eggs, and doing all manner of other things, while small boys ran around fetching and carrying. Everyone was shouting orders. It was amazing that they knew who wanted what. One of the tallest women he’d ever seen stood at the stove tasting and adding seasonings to pots while casting a gimlet eye on the meats roasting in the fireplace. The other thing he noticed was how clean the kitchen was kept. Whenever anything fell to the floor it was immediately cleaned up.
Georgie poked him in the arm and motioned to a basket set far away from the heat where a young maid was cleaning fish.
It wasn’t until one of the boys almost ran into them that anyone knew they were there. Then, suddenly, the kitchen went quiet and the cook glanced around.
“Can I help you?”
Georgie smiled and stepped forward. “We are looking for a youth who saved one of the guests from making a very bad decision. He had a large catch of fish, and I thought that you might know who he is.”
“If he’s got wheat-colored hair and looks like someone’s starving him to death, that’d be Jem.”
“Thank you.” Gavin couldn’t believe she’d got the information that easily. “Where can we find Jem?”
The cook glanced at a clock on top of a large cabinet. “I’d try The Running Dog in the village.”
“Croseton?” That would be a long way to go.
“No. Hillborough. The one outside the gate and about a mile east.” She glanced at the spit. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”
Georgie smiled at the woman. “Thank you very much for your help.”
“For all he’s young,” the cook added, “Jem’s a good worker and fisherman.”
Gavin inclined his head. “Thank you.”
He and Georgie headed out of the kitchen and back to the hall. “I’ve never been in a kitchen at this time of day before.”
