Wesley and Sebastian exchanged a meaningful look. “Yes, of course,” Sebastian said. “I probably made it obvious last night that I am not much of the hunter myself.”
“To say the least,” Sir Reginald said, exchanging a smirk with another hunter.
After breakfast, the entrance hall was a flurry of men in scarlet coats and women dressed for town arranging their days. In the chaos of the crowd, Sebastian snuckaway to the ground-floor study near the ballroom, and sure enough, there was a candlestick phone on the desk. He kept an eye on the doorway and an ear attuned for footsteps as he asked the operator to put him through to Arthur and Rory’s inn.
“I am staying behind from the hunt,” Sebastian said quietly, when Arthur got on the line. “They are all leaving now.”
“We’ll head your way then,” Arthur said. “The drive to Valemount Hall is about three miles across the estate from the road, you said? We’ll find a place to stash the car and walk the last bit.”
“You can avoid the hunt?” Sebastian said.
“Our resident animal lover might not know this,” Arthur said, in a nice tone, “but fox hunts areloud. The dogs bay, the men shoot at birds, some asshole usually plays a trumpet—it’s an entire circus. We should be able to keep our distance and find another path through the moor, but if we are caught, we’ll just pretend we were exploring the park and accidentally crossed onto the property. Wesley is smart enough to play along. Where should we meet you?”
“There is a guest house on the hill near the manor.” Sebastian explained what had happened the night before. “I have the glove for Rory to scry, but maybe we should go back to the guest house too and search some more. Or I can do that before you get here—”
“Christ, no, wait for us,” Arthur said sharply. “If you go anywhere by yourself and anything happens to you, Wesley will want Rory and I drawn and quartered, and I’m not sure if being a viscount actually gives him the authority to do that in England but let’s not find out. Isthere anywhere less visible than a guest house on top of a hill?”
Sebastian pursed his lips. “The stables and kennels should be empty while the hunt is out, yes? Maybe just a horse or two left behind.”
“Perfect,” Arthur said. “We should be able to find the stables easily enough. Meet us there.”
After hanging up the phone, Sebastian found the housekeeper and asked after Nora.
“She says she’s quite ill, I’m afraid,” the housekeeper said. “Refuses to leave her rooms or have anyone come in.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Sebastian said, and meant it. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call her doctor?”
“You’re sweet to offer,” the housekeeper said, “but Lady Nora doesn’t want to see Dr. Hughes either.”
“I thought her doctor’s name was Dr. Wright,” Sebastian said.
“Wright?” The housekeeper frowned. “Dr. Hughes has always been the family doctor. I’ve never met a Dr. Wright.”
“I see,” Sebastian said slowly. “I must have misheard.”
He went back into the entrance hall, which was very quiet now with only a pair of maids polishing the silver. He slipped past them, then ducked down a different hall by the dining room for a quick detour through the kitchen, where a young woman was slicing loaves of bread.
“Excuse me,” Sebastian said politely. “But I was hoping you might have some extra carrots or oats?”
She smiled, dusting flour off her hands. “Visitingthe horses, eh? As long as you’re not looking for meat, I think I can find you something.”
“What happened to the meat?” Sebastian asked, as she walked through an archway.
Her voice drifted out of the larder. “Your guess is as good as mine. Seems to have disappeared.” She emerged a moment later with three carrots and a turnip. “If I may be so bold, the next time your friend Lord Fine can’t sleep, warm milk is more help than brandy.”
“Oh. I, um, I’ll let him know.” Sebastian could not fathom Wesley ever agreeing to drink warm milk, but he also hadn’t realized he’d been awake in the middle of the night. He’d have to ask Wesley about it.
From the kitchen, he found the garden door and stepped outside, heading west to the stables. As he neared the low, long building, the scent of hay and horse floated on the air. He cautiously approached, a story ready on his tongue about wanting to see the animals.
“Sebastian.”
He heard his name first, then saw Rory and Arthur coming around the side of the building. The elderly dappled mare Sebastian had met before poked her head over a half door, watching them with interest.
Sebastian let out a breath and hurried down the building’s side. “Stables appear empty, but who knows for how long,” Arthur said, as the three of them met in front of the mare, who started sniffing interestedly at Sebastian’s hair.
“I’ll keep a lookout,” Arthur went on, “while Rory scries and—why do you have a carrot?”
Sebastian held it in place as the mare ate it straight from his hand. “I got it from the kitchen before I came down.”
