Not wanting to disrupt the moment, or, more likely, ruin his cook’s mood, Kit waited until she was next to the wagon before saying, “Do the last two tenants not need a basket?” She gave him “the look.” The very one his mother gave his father when he’d said something dim-witted. He hated having to dig himself out of a hole. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest . . .”
Maybe he should just stop now.
“In fact, two of the families normally do quite well. I have included hard bonbons for the children and a tisane for one of the ladies who suffers from flatulence.”
He reached into the pouch he carried, pulling out a handful of candy. “Such as these?”
“Yes.” She rewarded him with a smile. “I predict you’ll become popular with all the children.”
As long as he could please her, he would have achieved his purpose. He handed her into the conveyance. “Will you drive, or shall I?”
“You may. I find I like being a passenger. Aunt Eunice never likes to tool the wagon.”
Now that she had mentioned her, Kit had noticed Lady Eunice had been absent of late. “Where is your aunt?”
Mary’s brow crinkled. “I’m not sure. Normally she is down for breakfast before I leave.”
The woman damn well needed to be there during breakfast. Especially after what almost happened this morning.
Less than fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the Robsoncottage. The children, remembering him from yesterday, ran out to greet them. Although they were too well mannered to ask for the sweets, the youngest, whom Kit judged to be around four years old, wrapped her arm around his leg and beamed up at him.
“Annan,” a frustrated voice called from the cottage, “git yer hands off the master.”
Lifting the girl into his arms, Kit called back, “Please, Mrs. Robson, don’t let it bother you.”
He reached into the purse he’d left in the wagon, drawing out a handful of the bonbons. He handed one to her, then divided the others among her brothers and sisters. Eight children—the house didn’t seem large enough. Still holding Annan, he whispered in Mary’s ear, “Do they require an addition?”
She smiled. “If you look in the back, you will see it has recently been enlarged.”
“Thank you.”
A sudden blush infused her cheeks, and she grabbed the basket, hurrying toward Mrs. Robson. Now, if he only knew if she was pleased with his approbation or he’d embarrassed her.
It took most of the day to complete their rounds, but since they were offered everything from tea to cheese and bread at every stop, neither of them was hungry when they returned home.
Home.
Kit had never before thought of Rose Hill as his home, yet Mary did, and even if he had a choice, he would not take the property away from her.
All day long he’d fought himself from taking her into his arms. He lifted her down from the wagon and struggled to remove his hands from her waist. She stared up at him, her gray eyes searching his, and his chest tightened. God, how he wanted to kiss her, run his hands through her golden hair.
One finger at a time, he released her. “We should go in now.”
Her lashes lowered and she turned toward the steps. “I shall see you before dinner.”
What he needed was a cold bath. That evening he made sure he was the last one down. Kit no longer trusted himself to be alone with his prospective wife. No matter how drawn to Mary he was, he would not behave as his brother had.
Shortly before seven o’clock in the evening, Gawain Tolliver entered a clean, neat tavern in the City, not far from the ’Change. He understood why bankers would patronize the place. It reminded him of an orderly account ledger. Spying an empty table in the back, he strolled to it and ordered a coffee.
Late yesterday, a clerk who worked at Hoare’s Bank, Mr. Beacon, whom Gawain convinced to help him find Cousin Mary, had sent a note around. The man had been reluctant to assist until Gawain wove a story telling the man that her family was concerned, as Lady Mary had not been in touch with anyone for several months. Thankfully, Mr. Beacon’s opinion of females’ abilities to take care of themselves was not high.
As the church bells of St. Paul’s tolled the hour, a spare, middle-aged man entered the tavern. Beacon slid onto the seat across from Gawain. He took off his spectacles, wiping them thoroughly with a cloth before replacing them on his face. “I do not know how much help the information I have found will be to you. The funds are transferred to the Bank of Scotland in Edinburgh. You would need to contact them to be provided with more information as to your cousin’s whereabouts.”
Gawain wiped his brow and heaved a huge sigh. That was more information than he’d had in months. “I thank you. The family thanks you. Surely we will be able to discover her whereabouts now.”
The clerk stood and bowed. “It was my pleasure to assist. I trust her elders will give the young woman a good talking-to when you find her.”
“Yes, they certainly shall.” He rose, and shook the man’s hand. “Again, you have our thanks. You were our last hope.”
