Shrimps wriggled out of his grasp. “She’s the older lady what goes with her everywhere. You don’t think a proper young lady just ups and goes out of her house by herself, do you?”
Of course, he could see that Barney had not ever considered the matter. Nor had he, until he began living in Lord Van Doren’s house. He’d seen quite a lot of their habits. He’d even found out that all ladies had a maid to get them into their clothes!
He’d thought, considering how much they practiced dancing and playing music, that somebody would have shown them how to get dressed in their own clothes.
Those that lived rich had very mysterious lives.
“This Miss Mayton,” Barney said, rubbing his chin, “she’s all for the other one getting kidnapped?”
Thatwasa sticking point. Shrimps really did not know why Miss Mayton had thought the pickpocket was a good idea. It seemed the sort of thing that an older person might have looked down on.
“Miss Mayton is an unusual person,” Shrimps admitted. “I can’t say why she is, only that Cook says these kind of people marry all their relatives and it makes for weak breeding stock, as anybody with hunting dogs would know.”
“Right. So she’s gone funny in the head.”
“Something like that.”
“But she won’t cause no trouble?”
“No, she never does,” Shrimps said. “She’s very cheerful.”
“Right. And who’s this duke the whole palaver is done for?”
“His name is Conbatten. He’s very tall. That’s all I know about him!”
Barney leaned over him. “That’s enough to know. Be at the end of the street at the appointed hour. If ya don’t turn up, it’s all off and my associate will be informing your lord of where that pickpocket in the park came from—hired by his very own servant.”
With that, Barney slipped out of the garden.
Oyster had been very sensibly hiding under a bush. Now he crawled out and gave a little wag and a very big chatter of teeth.
Shrimps sighed and patted his head. “I wish Lady Rosalind would stop having so many ideas!”
*
The younger ladieshad gone above stairs and everyone else was still out. It presented the perfect opportunity Tattleton had been waiting for.
He had announced he was going out to take the air.
There were, of course, a few surprised looks among the staff. He was not known for his fondness for either walking or outdoor air. It mattered little—they could not have ever guessed his real destination.
The stables.
He tiptoed down the mews and let himself in.
Tattleton found Sandren directing the hands on whatever he did with the horses. As far as he could tell, the beasts were to have oats before they retired for the evening.
Did horses retire? Did they lie down with a blanket over them? He really did not know.
Sandren had, naturally, been rather surprised to see him. Nevertheless, he led Tattleton into his private chambers.
The butler was taken aback about how neatly put together the whole thing was. There was an antechamber with comfortable chairs and then he could see a tidy bedchamber beyond. The floors were tiled and scattered with rugs, and there were paintings of horses on the walls. Somehow, there was not a speck of dust or hay to be seen.
It was a very comfortable sort of place.
Sandren poured him a brandy and motioned for him to take one of the chairs.
“I won’t kid ya, Mr. Tattleton, I’m surprised to see you here.”
