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Burke reached for a cup of coffee sitting near the edge of the table. “Once a week, someone rides into town under cover of darkness and slips a piece of paper under the back door of the blacksmith shop.”
“What do the notes say?”
“Most of the time, it just encourages us to press forward with what we are doing,” Burke said.
Guy leaned forward in his seat. “When do you plan on striking?”
“We don’t have the date yet.”
“No?”
Burke shook his head. “But I expect it tomorrow evening.”
“Have the notes ever not arrived as scheduled?”
“They come every week, like clockwork.”
Guy nodded his understanding. “I would like to help with this strike.”
Burke smiled broadly. “I knew you would be on board.”
Chapter Twelve
With the morningsun cresting over the horizon, Daphne raced her horse in the fields near her country home as she thought about Mr. Stewart. Was her grandmother right? Had she truly developed feelings for him? No, that was impossible. She hardly knew him. Besides, he was only visiting Anmore for a short time. Once his report was written, he would leave, and she would never see him again.
Why did that thought cause her such heartache?
Perhaps she had grown to care for him, but nothing could come of it. He had a life in London, and she would never leave Anmore. It didn’t matter that his handsome face was the last thing she thought of before she drifted off to sleep, or how he was different from any other man she associated with. She felt safe, protected, whenever he spoke to her.
“What is wrong with me?” she muttered as she leaned lower in her saddle.
Up ahead, she recognized Mr. Stewart as he sat atop his horse, studying the terrain. She reined in as she neared him. “I hope I am not interrupting your solitude.”
He smiled, causing a brief fluttering in her stomach. “You are not,” he replied. “I was just admiring the lovely scenery.”
“It almost appeared as if you were studying the road.”
“That would be a waste of time.”
“It most definitely would.”
Mr. Stewart glanced over her shoulder at the two grooms who accompanied her. “I had not taken you for such an early riser,” he commented.
“I find that morning is the best time for some reflection.”
An amused look came into his eyes. “Pray tell, what do you think about?”
“There is plenty that keeps me occupied,” she replied.
“I do apologize,” he said, “I shouldn’t tease you.”
“I took no offense.” Daphne adjusted the reins in her hand as her horse stepped forward. “What brings you out at such an early hour?”
“Like you, I find it is a good time to think.”
“You can’t think at the coaching inn?” she teased.
Mr. Stewart chuckled. “Heavens, no,” he replied. “There are some patrons who are still drinking come breakfast time, and they can be quite vocal.”
