“I appreciate you telling me this.” She reached out and covered the woman’s hand with her own. “Keep watch, will you? If you notice anything else of concern, please don’t hesitate to send me a message, just as you sent the invitation today. I know you won’t betray a confidence, but if you find out anyone else has had a similar experience with the steward, please tell them they can come directly to me.”
Mrs. Townsend nodded.
Cassie had been so absorbed in speaking with the older woman, she had not paid attention to the approach of a horse and single rider. When she looked over her shoulder, she found herself staring into the eyes of her husband.
She withdrew her hand and adjusted her shawl.
Harbury greeted Mrs. Townsend and apologized for not dismounting. “I’ve come to provide escort to my wife.”
The edge in his voice would not, Cassie hoped, be recognizable to Mrs. Townsend.
“I should be getting back,” Cassie said. “I can only imagine what kind of mischief Mercy has been getting up to while I’ve been gone.”
“Mercy?” queried Mrs. Townsend.
“Did the duchess tell you we acquired a small spaniel on our way home the last time we were here?”
“A spaniel?” Mrs. Townsend asked, surprised.
“I found the poor thing all dirty and hiding in a thicket,” Cassie said. “He’s been a delight, but of course, we wouldn’t want to keep him if he’s simply run away from his owner. You didn’t, perchance have a pup go missing?”
“No,” Mrs. Townsend replied carefully. “But if I recall, Mr. Anderson’s daughter…”
“Mr. Anderson has a daughter?” Cassie asked.
“I would have thought—” Mrs. Townsend stopped herself, then glanced between Harbury and Cassie. Finally, she shrugged. “A grown daughter, Your Grace. But the pup couldn’t be hers. She’s been married and gone for a very long time.”
“I see,” Cassie replied. Though she thought Mrs. Townsend’s embarrassment odd.
“And here, at last, is your cart,” Mrs. Townsend sounded relieved.
As the Townsend’s man handed Cassie up into the box, she thanked her host another time. Settling herself on the seat, she took the reins, called for Trusty to walk on, and, with reins in one hand, steered the cart toward the road.
Her husband’s eyes remained on her the whole time, even bringing his horse alongside the cart.
She forced herself to think of the morning’s successes rather than his ire.
While she hadn’t earned the wives’ complete trust, she had made progress. She had learned Anderson’s behavior had taken a turn. If the change were due to some sort of illness, that could explain why her husband was so reluctant to trace the estate worries back to the steward.
She only wished she had collected proof rather than innuendo.
She sent her husband a sidelong glance, wondering if he’d trust her concerns.
His face was grim, and he rode stiffly—if not rigidly—in his saddle.As a result, his horse moved more skittishly than usual.
Yes, he was angry that she’d disobeyed his instruction about the groom.
Loosely!She wanted to goad him with the same instruction he’d given her during her first driving lesson. She recalled how his fingers lightly encircled her wrist as he demonstrated what he’d meant, the way he’d only reluctantly let go of her hand.
Ugh.
Even when annoyed with him, she still found him attractive.
She couldn’t stay angry with him for long. Not with his thigh at eye level, his body slowly, rhythmically rocking along with the movement of his horse, his tousled hair falling across his forehead. He looked so fine.
Then again, his fine looks had never been in question.
Her besotted mind began weaving excuses for why he’d felt the need to retrieve her from the Townsends. Perhaps he’d come to meet her simply because he hadn’t been able to stay away. He had, after all, taken up residence in her room.
