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Things like the Cunning Woman and her ridiculous notions for discovering what lay in the future.
A gunshot ripped through the air, jarring Amelia from her musings.
“Don’t mind that,” Hattie said, carelessly reaching for another lavender stalk. At this rate, she would de-petal her entire garden before dinner. “My father did warn me that he planned to shoot today. I wager there will be gunshots for the next hour. Shall we go inside?”
For the sake of the flowers, Amelia nodded.
Hattie’s voice turned thoughtful. “Or perhaps we ought to stay out here.”
“I’m not certain your garden could survive it,” Amelia said, nodding to the petals littering the stone walkway before them.
Hattie shot her a wry smile before turning back toward the lawn. “But another red-haired man is coming our way.”
Amelia glanced up quickly to find Charles and Nick Pepper striding toward them on the lawn, Hattie’s large, square house looming behind them. The sun shone down on them, highlighting Mr. Pepper’s blond hair, and Charles’s brown locks.
“Mr. Fremont is not a red-haired man.”
“I would call his hair chestnut,” Hattie said. “Brown, yes, but there is certainly a reddish element. Much like a fox, in fact.”
“Do you think you are perhaps grasping for something where there is nothing?”
“No,” Hattie said easily. “I am making a connection I hadn’t made before. That is all. And if I form an attachment to Mr. Fremont it would surely help you. Then the man would finally leave you be.”
The men noticed them, and Charles lifted a hand in greeting. Though Hattie’s meaning was clear, Amelia was startled by the direction her friend’s thoughts had gone.
Hattie leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Besides, Mr. Fremont was the first man I saw after the incantation. That must mean something.”
“And he was foxed.”
Hattie grinned, rising from the bench. “Another point in favor of him being my fox then, perhaps?”
Amelia suppressed a sigh. Rising behind her friend, she followed her to greet the men.
“If you are looking for my father,” Hattie said, “he is just on the other side of the house shooting targets. It shouldn’t be dangerous if you approach from the house.”
Charles nodded. “Thank you, Miss Green. We did come in search of your father.” He turned toward Amelia, and she felt the inclination to take a step back when his eyes met hers. She could not look at this man without imagining him rising from the pond, his shirt clinging to his chest as he sluiced water from his face.
She had immediately averted her eyes, but that did not mean his well-sculpted torso had not imprinted on her mind before she was able to look away.
“How fortunate that I should find you here, Mrs. Fawn,” he said, his face impassive. Could he so easily have forgotten the events of yesterday? She could not. They were seared on her mind.
“Do you have news for me?” she asked.
Charles nodded. “We traveled to Melbury today and questioned the innkeeper at the White Hare, but he knew nothing of the gypsies.”
“We can assume they traveled toward the coast, then?” she asked.
Mr. Pepper shook his head. “Not entirely, no. They might have done that, or they merely traveled past Melbury before sunup and went unseen.”
“But the trip was not entirely useless,” Charles said, a hopeful edge to his voice. “The innkeeper was able to inform us of a horse auction taking place on Thursday next.”
“And we were able to get a look at some of our competition for the cricket match,” Mr. Pepper added.
“How useful,” Hattie said. “Will you give my father the details of the auction?”
Charles nodded. “I assumed he’d like to know.”
“He is spitting mad over the horse-thieves. It was quite impertinent of them to take our horses directly from our stables, was it not? I’m certain Father will wish to attend the auction with you.” Hattie tilted her head to the side, narrowing her gaze at Charles. “Are you sly, Mr. Fremont?”
