“Many gentlemen have never been in a kitchen at all,” came her dry answer. “Shall we find Barfleur?”
Gavin would rather take care of the business without the younger man, but Barfleur needed to be taught a lesson. “I believe we shall.” Gavin half expected to find the other gentleman with his nose in a glass of brandy and was surprised to find him drinking tea with Lady Turner and Mrs. Fitzwalter. He bowed. “Good day, ladies.”
“We have come to collect Mr. Barfleur,” Georgie said. “He promised he would accompany us on an errand.”
His eyes widened and for a moment Gavin thought he’d bolt. “Er. Yes.” Barfleur’s hands came up toward his collar then dropped. “That was fast. I thought the information we needed would take longer to find.”
“If you need to gather any items”—Georgie gave him a stern look—“you should do so now.”
He immediately rose, bowed to the ladies, and hurried out of the morning room.
“That is odd,” Lady Turner observed. A line formed between her eyes as she stared at the doorway. Then she glanced at Georgie. “Are you going far? Do you wish to use our curricle? Mr. Barfleur will have to sit in the groom’s seat, but it will not be uncomfortable for such a short trip.”
“Yes, thank you,” Georgie said. “We were going to walk, but this will be faster.”
Gavin had for a briefest moment considered taking the landau they’d ridden over in, but Georgie would need a chaperone if they took the vehicle. “I thank you as well.”
More tea arrived, and they were pressed into joining their hostesses. The butler arrived to tell them that the curricle was ready at about the same time Barfleur reappeared, a grim look on his face. Had Georgie frightened him that much?
Less than twenty minutes later they entered The Running Dog, and Gavin had to duck to avoid hitting his head on a beam. The place was filled with local men who immediately turned and stared at them. For a moment he regretted that he’d brought her. Still, she had the right to see how this all came out.
She squeezed his arm. “Let us find a table and discuss our strategy before asking to speak with Jem.”
“Good idea.” At least then they wouldn’t be standing around looking out of place. They’d be sitting with tankards of ale to drink as they attempted not to appear out of place.
Georgie indicated a vacant table just a few feet away. He’d rather have found one closer to the door, but needs must and the bar was already pretty full. To call it an actual table was a misnomer. There were three chairs at the end of one long table. She took a chair where she could view the common room as did he. If there was going to be trouble, at least they’d know it was coming and from which direction. Barfleur sat in the chair facing them, and Gavin hailed the barmaid.
The young woman was pretty in a very English way with blond hair and a milk-white complexion that she clearly kept out of the sun. Instead of bringing attention to herself by swinging her hips or lowering her bodice, she walked sedately to them. “Good afternoon. What can I get you?”
Georgie smiled. “I would like a glass of cider if you have it.”
“We do, miss.” The barmaid glanced at him. “And the gentlemen?”
“I’d like a pint of ale—” He raised his brows in a question to Barfleur, who nodded then hung his head. “Make that two pints of ale.”
Georgie placed her hands on the table, clasping them together. “Mr. Barfleur, his lordship and I heard you mention a wager. What exactly did you wager and how much?”
The younger man flushed a deep red as he met her gaze. “I—we—well we said we’d supply enough fish for a meal.” When Georgie raised her brows, Barfleur continued, “We wagered a pony.”
She sucked in a breath. “And when you made the wager you thought you could win?”
“No.” He hung his head again. “I’ve never learned to fish. But I couldn’t let the others know.” Gavin thought a man couldn’t get any redder, yet Barfleur did. “My—my father tried to teach me, but he gave up. I’ve never even had a nibble.”
“I see.” Georgie reached across the table and patted the young man’s fisted hands.
How in the hell could any boy in England not learn how to fish? Even ladies fished.
Good God, Barfleur looked like he wanted to weep. “I didn’t dare tell them I didn’t know how. That would be worse than losing.”
“Yes, I am quite sure it would be. But this is your opportunity to do the right thing and learn to fish. I shall own myself surprised if Jem can’t teach you.”
A glimmer of hope entered Barfleur’s eyes. “Do you think he would? After I tried to steal his catch?”
“There is only one way to find out.” The barmaid brought their drinks, and Georgie said, “Will you please ask Jem to join us? We have a question for him.”
The woman met Georgie’s eyes with a steady gaze. “Does this have anything to do with someone trying to take his fish?”
From what Gavin could tell, she returned the look. “In a manner of speaking. Amends must be made to him.”
