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‘Gossip can be so cruel. Milk, Cousin Guinevere?’
‘Gossip?’ Out of the corner of her eye Guin saw Jared’s head move a fraction.
‘Oh, we receive the London papers. The new Lord Northam is much mentioned. So unpleasant and distasteful.’
‘It must be exceedingly trying for Theo,’ Guin said repressively. ‘For myself, it was very pleasant to be back at Allerton. Tell me, did your estate manager come with you here? Cousin Theo asked me something about the land and I was so pleased to find all the ledgers had been kept up so well – I was easily able to find what he wanted.’
‘Why yes.’ Mrs Quenten said. ‘Mr Foster our estate manager came too, although he is getting on and I suppose one could say he is partly retired now. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, no reason. Just an idle observation.’
‘Well, that was pointless and rather embarrassing,’ Guin said snappishly as Jared handed her into the carriage again an hour later. ‘Will you ride inside so we can talk?’
‘I think not. We still have to go to Whitby.’
‘I have no desire to go to Whitby, you know it was merely an excuse.’
‘And if we do not, then word will get back to the Quentens and they will know that was what it was.’ He closed the door, swung back onto his horse and fell in behind them as the horses broke into a trot.
Guin brooded on the Quentens for the next mile or so. She had not liked them, but then why should she? They had nothing in common other than a distant relationship to Augustus and it seemed he had merely a family sense of duty towards them.
The carriage swayed as they began to go downhill sharply and Guin looked out of the window to see the jagged ruins of the abbey looming on the cliff in the distance, sombre against the blue sky.
Her mood improved a little when Jared handed her out on a broad quay beside a busy harbour. ‘This is charming.’ She sniffed. ‘If a trifle fishy. Thomas, go and see if you can find some good fresh fish for supper.’
‘The best jet shops are this way, Lady Northam.’ Jared offered his arm and guided her along a cobbled street. ‘This one, I recall as being good quality. The inn just beyond it will serve for luncheon.’
He hardly sounded like the man who had made passionate love to her only twenty four hours before, Guin thought, puzzled, as Jared pushed open the door and the bell tinkled. There was a distance in both his voice and manner, almost a return to the way he had seemed when Augustus had first employed him.
The jewellery was indeed fine and the designs simple and wearable. Guin tried on a pair of ear drops mounted in gold and turned for Jared’s opinion. ‘What do you think?’
She had expected some warmth, some small, secret sign that he had an interest in her, but Jared merely remarked, ‘They appear appropriate, my lady.’
As though he is some dratted lady’s maid, she thought, hurt. She almost rejected them and chose one of the more ornate, facetted designs, simply to snub his tepid approval, but that was merely pettish, she told herself.
‘I will take these and the matching pendant. If you could thread it on a silk ribbon – that narrow dove grey one – I will wear it now.’ When the shopkeeper did as she asked and handed it to her Guin turned, gave it to Jared. ‘Tie it for me, Mr Hunt, if you please.’
He had to stand close behind her to circle her neck with the ribbon, his breath brushing her nape before the touch of his fingers, rapid, precise, as he tied a bow and stepped back without so much as a caress, a whispered word.
So, he had taken what he wanted and now was not interested? ‘Thank you, Mr Hunt.’
The shopkeeper had wrapped the earrings and an empty box for the pendant in silver paper and tied an elaborate bow and loop on the top. Guin paid him and waved one hand towards the dainty little package. ‘If you would, Mr Hunt.’ If he wanted to behave like a lackey then he would be treated like a footman and could walk through the town with a bauble hanging from his fingers.
Guin had expected Jared to hand it to Faith but he took the box. ‘Of course, my lady.’ He untied the ribbon, wrapped it neatly into a coil around his fingers, slid that into one pocket and the little parcel into another. ‘I will retie it for you later.’
See that you do. The words were almost out of her mouth before she bit them back. Her nerves were on edge and Jared’s coldness was giving her a pain under her breastbone, but that was no excuse for behaving badly.
‘Luncheon, I think,’ she said with a bright smile as they emerged onto the street again. ‘It has been a very long morning.’
Faith was staring at her, then looked away. Perhaps the smile was a little too bright. Desperate.
‘This way. The Golden Fleece.’ Jared pointed to where a large gilded sign hung over the roadway. ‘The food has always had a good – ’ Then he stopped as suddenly as if he had been struck. Stopped speaking, stopped dead on the pavement.
In front of him a slender dark-haired woman in deep mourning black stopped too. Guin thought that it was no accident. Jared had been taken completely by surprise, but the lady in her expensive gown had not. The stranger stared intently into his face for a long moment. ‘You. It is you.’
‘You are in mourning.’ No greeting, no preliminaries.
For a moment Guin thought the woman was not going to reply. ‘For my husband.’ The woman caught up her skirts with one hand and swept past them, chin up. As she came level with Jared’s shoulder she hissed, ‘A sword for hire. A mercenary.’
