“Better you go riding with the lady, me lord.”
The man was a sage. “You’re right.”
The next morning Giff awoke to rain. There’d be no riding with Alice today, but he could go with Fergus.
Gunn entered the room. “What are yer plans for the day, my lord?”
Giff flung back the covers. “A little spying is in order. I’ll need something nondescript.”
His valet went into the dressing room and came out with a set of older garments he wore in the country. “I’ll notify Fergus.”
It wasn’t until he was halfway through dressing that Giff realized that his valet must know what his groom was up to today. Not that he was concerned it would go any further. His Scots servants treated the English ones as if they were still at war. In the politest way possible, of course. Several minutes later he’d donned a waxed coat, hat, and had arrived at the stables. A small, unmarked town coach he hadn’t seen in years stood ready, with Fergus sitting on the covered box. Giff climbed in and it rolled forward without him having to knock on the ceiling. Soon they came to a stop, and he got out. The carriage was in the middle of a small alley down two stables from one that was open.
One of the servants from the open stable strode up the street to them. “Ye can’t stay there. A hackney’s comin’ soon, and I don’t want to be the one she screams at if she can’t get right in.”
Giff had moved toward one of the gates and pretended to look at it, giving Fergus the lead.
“Wouldn’t want ye to get into trouble. Me employer is just looking at this property. We won’t be a second.” Silence fell while Giff tried to look as if he had a purpose there.
“How much longer?” the servant asked.
“She must be a real bitch,” Fergus said.
“That’s bein’ kind. Ain’t happy she’s to come here, but his lordship can’t be caught seeing her.”
“If he’s a laird, what does it matter?” Fergus said innocently.
“He needs a leg-shackle, or we’re all lookin’ for new places. How much longer?”
“Almost done,” he said.
Giff took the hint, strolled back to the coach, got in, and it started forward. Behind him came a hackney. They drove around the corner, stopped, and waited until the hackney drove out of the mews then followed it to an area of row houses known to be home to several high-flyers. A woman got down from the hackney and ran to the house.
Giff’s coach came to a halt, and Fergus appeared at the carriage door window. “I’ll be a few minutes. She’ll be in a temper at the weather. Someone’s bound to come in or out for somethin’.” The groom strolled down the street as if he enjoyed being out in the rain. “Here now, let me help ye with that.”
Giff glanced out and saw Fergus with a woman.
“Oh, thank you.” The servant handed him the basket. “My mistress is going to be upset that her breakfast is late. Especially in this weather.”
“That’s a might heavy for someone as slight as ye.”
“It will all be over soon, and we can get back to normal,” the woman said. “None of this running back and forth at night and early morning.”
“I’m glad for ye,” Fergus said sympathetically.
That was the same thing the other servant had told them.
“What’s going to make the change?” he asked.
“Her protector is getting married. Once that happens it will all go back to the way it was.”
“Didn’t know a gentleman gettin’ married kept his mistress.”
“It’s not a love match.” They passed by the coach window, but all Giff could see was her bonnet. “Here we are. I’ll take the basket now. Thank you for your help.”
“Not at’all. I’ll carry it to the door fer ye.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
