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It was hard not to forgive him when he looked at me with the shadow of vulnerability darkening his velvet-brown eyes, but I hadn’t finished. “It’s not just the fact you went behind my back, it’s that you did it again,afterour discussion.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Yesterday, when you told Uncle Ronald what you’d learned about Mr. Miller. You must have gone to see him after we parted outside the hotel. Or did you ask Mr. Hobart to pass it on?”
His jaw dropped lower and lower with every sentence I uttered. “I didn’t inform Sir Ronald, Cleo. I would never discuss anything about you with him.”
My stomach plummeted. “Oh.” It came out more of a breath than a word. “It must have been Mrs. Hessing who told him.”
He placed both palms flat on the desk and studied them a moment before pushing himself to his feet. “We should speak to Bert about doping Panther.”
I watched as he put on his jacket. He wouldn’t even look at me. “I’m sorry, Harry. I jumped to the wrong conclusion.” I stood and followed him to the door. “At least we’re balanced now. I’m cross with you about investigating Mr. Miller, and you’re cross with me for assuming it was you who told my uncle.”
“I’m not cross with you. I’m just…” He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I hoped you knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t go to Sir Ronald with my concerns.”
“The timing pointed to you being the culprit.”
“Did it?”
“Yes! Mrs. Hessing has known about Mr. Miller’s past all along, so why wait until yesterday?”
“Perhaps she didn’t want to spread gossip unnecessarily. Perhaps she only decided to bring it up when she thought you two were serious.”
“A conclusion she came to because you asked about him.”
“Or because she saw the two of you together.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Just because I enjoy a gentleman’s company, it doesn’t mean I want to be more than friends.”
His lips pressed together as he indicated I should walk down the stairs first. His reaction was baffling. His original inquiry about Mr. Miller even more so.
Was he jealous?
If so, it was both flattering and unnerving. I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Enjoy it or discourage him? Remind him that my future plans didn’t involve marriage?
Or kiss him?
It was entirely possible I was misreading his reactions and he wasn’t jealous. When it came to Harry, I seemed to make a habit of misunderstanding. My confusion led to my silence. It was safest to say nothing to avoid increasing the tension between us further.
The tension and the silence remained all the way to the Elms Polo Club where we alighted from the cab. Focusing on something else was a relief, and I dove into the investigation with renewed enthusiasm.
The gate was unlocked, but we couldn’t just roam around at leisure this time. The major had thrown us out on Wednesday and would do so again if he spotted us. We needed a way to enter unobserved, and not just by Major Leavey.
“Bert will probably run away again when he sees us,” I said.
“Then we won’t let him see us until it’s too late for him to run.”
My parasol gave me the perfect way to hide my face, but Harry was more conspicuous. Even if he lowered his hat brim, his height and broad shoulders gave him away. Fortunately, the grounds staff were too busy to take any notice of us. It was Friday, which meant they were preparing the playing field and spectator areas for another day of matches tomorrow. Weeds were removed, rose bushes dead-headed, and pavilion seating cleaned. We avoided the clubhouse and headed to the outbuildings.
We had a clear view of the stables and tack room as we rounded the corner, but no one was outside working this time. If Bert was inside, he was trapped.
Bert was not inside the stables. It was devoid of humans, so Harry said when he re-emerged. I’d remained at the entrance to keep watch and alert Harry if the major approached.
We made our way to the tack room next, our gazes continually scanning the area for the major or Bert. We were only a few feet away when we heard a deep, angry voice coming from inside. Although we couldn’t make out the words, the tone was clearly threatening.
We quickened our pace. Instead of keeping watch, I entered the tack room behind Harry.
It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmer light after the bright sunshine, but when they did, I spotted Mr. Broadman towering over Robbie, his fist buried in the groom’s shirt front. Robbie was forced onto his toes, the veins at his throat bulging over his collar, pulled tight by Mr. Broadman.
