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“Ah, they did not even wish to tell me she was not at home. They had no choice and even then made up some flummery about her being at a friend’s estate.”
“Yes, yes, this could work …” he said hopefully.
“Of course it will work. Who would doubt me?”
He eyed her respectfully. “Not any that I can think of. But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you remain here?”
“Only long enough to make certain your neighbors know that, having waited long enough, I am off to join her and then escort her to the duke, who awaits us in London.”
“Yes, this may work, yes, indeed,” he said and added, “Well then, my lady. You are quite a bit more than just a piece of society froth. Indeed, and you have a kind heart. Thought I saw it in your pretty eyes, and now I know it.” He started for the door. “I shall start putting it about that Scott has gone off to London.”
“Excellent,” Daphne said brightly and didn’t let her worry about this entire affair show on her face. Worried? She was nearly frantic. She already felt for the child. Alone and so frightened she had taken off in the night. Well, she decided, going to see Cook in the kitchen, no better time than now to get things started, and who better than the servants to start it about that Miss Easton was off visiting a school friend.
~ Twelve ~
ASHTON HAD ORDERED a luncheon to b
e served in the private parlor and was content to find that the innkeeper’s wife had set out a simple but quite delectable selection of entrées and side dishes on the long, dark oak sideboard.
Hence, it was some twenty minutes before any real conversation took place, as both ladies and their gentlemen companions were too hungry to do anything else but eat.
Felicia took a last savory mouthful and sat back with a contented sigh to say, “Hmm. That was excellent.”
“Lord, my dear Felicia,” Becky returned on a laugh, “you shoveled that down in a thrice, didn’t you?”
“Dreadful cat!” Felicia wagged a finger and cast her an amused eye. “You haven’t done so badly yourself.”
“Ah, but I am entitled. I was the victim of this adventure and haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon,” drawled Miss Wilson superiorly.
“Yes, there is that,” agreed Felicia and then narrowed her eyes. “Ah, but all you had to do was lie there semi-conscious and expend no energy whatsoever, while we did all the work to rescue you.” She got to her feet and moved towards the courtyard window as laughter and an exchange of remarks took place.
She saw Ashton get to his feet and cross to a writing desk, where he sat and took up a quill and paper. Hmm, she wondered. Who was he writing to? She meandered towards him and asked idly, “Writing Becky’s father?”
He eyed her seriously, though there was a twinkle in his silver-lit eyes. “No, I have already written to him, so there would be no need for another missive. In fact, we may soon find him walking through the inn door.”
“Oh,” Felicia said, wishing he would tell her who he was writing to and wondering how she could find out.
He seemed amused by her open curiosity and teased her further by saying, “Indeed, I fear we shall lose her delightful company any moment now.”
Felicia pouted, realized she was pouting, and dispensed with it. “Well, drat that. It is the worst part of this adventure. I wish she could stay on with us and make the trip to London as well. What fun we would have.”
Becky had gotten up and walked near enough to hear this last and said with a small snort, “I daresay every moment you are awake is a terror of adventure, Felicia.”
“Yes, but now I should like you to join me in my adventures,” Felicia said and laughed. “I shall miss you terribly,” Felicia added, genuinely distressed over this.
“Madcap!” Becky pronounced. “I don’t mean to let you slip out of my life so easily.”
Felicia moved and put an arm about her new friend’s waist. “I don’t know how it is, but I feel as though we have been friends forever, or at least should be.”
Becky laughed and said, “I quite agree.”
Scott grinned and took up another apple tart and downed it, appearing well pleased with the situation. He swallowed and added, “Aye, I agree with Flip. Don’t think we should allow your father to take you away.”
Felicia smiled and turned back to Ashton. “So if you aren’t writing Becky’s father … oh, you must be writing home? No doubt a wife … or sweetheart?”
