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“That’s a very long promise to make, Mr. Dunford,” Elizabeth replied, her voice tinged with amusement.
“Just Dunford, if you please. I haven’t been called Mister in years.”
She couldn’t help but smile. There was something uncommonly friendly about this man. It had been Elizabeth’s experience that those blessed with amazingly good looks tended to be cursed with amazingly bad temperaments, but Dunford seemed to be the exception that proved the rule. He’d make a fine husband, she decided, if she could get him to ask her.
“Very well, then,” she said. “Just Dunford. And who were you trying to escape? Lady
Danbury?”
“Good God, no. Agatha is always good for an entertaining evening.”
“Miss Corbishley? She did seem interested.…”
Dunford shuddered. “Not half so interested as her mother.”
“Ah.”
He quirked a brow. “I gather you’re acquainted with the type.”
A little burst of horrified laughter escaped her lips. Good God, she was that type.
“I’d give an entire guinea for those thoughts,” Dunford said.
Elizabeth shook her head, not certain whether to continue laughing or dig a hole—and jump in it. “Those thoughts are far too expensive for—” Her head jerked. Was that James’s head she’d seen poking out from the blue room?
Dunford followed her stare. “Is something wrong?”
She waved an impatient hand at him. “Just one moment. I thought I saw—”
“What?” His brown eyes grew sharp. “Or who?”
She shook her head. “I must be mistaken. I thought I saw the estate manager.”
He looked at her with a blank expression. “Is that so very odd?”
Elizabeth gave her head a little shake. There was no way she was even going to try to explain her situation. “I…ah…believe I might have left the notebook in the sitting room. That is where Lady Danbury and I usually spend our days together.”
“Lead on, then, my lady.”
He followed her into the sitting room. Elizabeth made great pretense of opening drawers and the like. “A servant might have confused it with Lady Danbury’s things,” she explained, “and put it away.”
Dunford stood by as she searched, clearly too much of a gentleman to pry too deeply into Lady Danbury’s belongings. It didn’t matter much if he did look, Elizabeth thought wryly. Lady D kept all of her important possessions locked away, and he certainly wasn’t going to find the notebook, which was tucked away in the library.
“Perhaps it’s in another room,” Dunford suggested.
“It might be, although—”
A discreet knock at the open door interrupted her. Elizabeth, who’d had no idea how she was going to finish her sentence, gave swift and silent thanks to the servant standing in the doorway.
“Are you Mr. Dunford?” the footman asked.
“I am.”
“I have a note for you.”
“A note?” Dunford reached out one hand and took the cream-colored envelope. As his eyes scanned the words, his lips settled into a frown.
“Not bad news, I hope,” Elizabeth said.
