Free Cut to the Quick by Kate Ross Page B

surprise to everyone? Lady Tarleton had been so horrified to hear of it, Guy said. Could it be that, for her, it was a long-dreaded event finally coming to pass?
    He asked, “Has your father any family or friends left in the neighbourhood—anyone we could talk to about his relationship with the Fontclairs?”
    “He hasn’t any family except me. And I don’t know of any friends he has from the days when he worked at Bellegarde.”
    “There are always the servants. Servants know everything to the purpose about their employers* lives. That’s what comes of living cheek by jowl with people who don’t credit you with having ears or intellects.”
    “Could we question them without their getting suspicious?” “Not possibly. But my valet could. He’s very discreet. He could charm information from them without their having any idea what he was about.”
    “If you trust him, Mr. Kestrel, I’m prepared to trust him, too. I can’t thank you enough for helping me this way. I think Mr. Fontclair is very lucky to have a friend like you.”
    “I hope you won’t make the mistake of thinking I’m doing all this for Hugh Fontclair.”
    She smiled her shy smile, and the colour mounted in her cheeks. Hugh appeared in the doorway. “Here you are, Kestrel—”
    Miss Craddock got flustered. Kestrel smiled in an owlish sort of way. Hugh had a feeling he was intruding, and broke off in some confusion.
    “Are you ready to go?” asked Julian.
    “Oh, yes, that’s why I came looking for you. Miss Craddock, I’m taking Mr. Kestrel on a tour of the estate. You’re welcome to come if you like.”
    He never failed in his courtesy toward her, she thought—that formal courtesy that made her feel like the merest chance acquaintance. “That’s very good of you, Mr. Fontclair, but I'm going on a botany outing with your sisters and Miss Pritchard."
    “Oh." Hugh tried to hide his relief. He always felt so awkward around Miss Craddock. He could not imagine what he would have talked to her about for so long. “I hope you enjoy yourself."
    “Thank you," she said in a small voice. She turned to Julian, her face brightening. “I’ve so enjoyed talking with you, Mr. Kestrel.”
    “The pleasure was all on my side.”
    “Oh, no.”
    “The greater part of it, then. Because in London you must meet scores of fellows like me every day of the week. We abound in the West End like ants on an anthill. But you—you’re something unique. If nothing else, you’ve blasted the popular myth that charm can’t exist with sincerity.”
    Hugh coughed. “If you’re ready to go now, Mr. Kestrel."
    Julian went with him. And not a moment too soon, said a warning voice in his head. You must be mad, flirting with the girl like that under her bridegroom’s nose! I don’t care if she looked as if she needed it. How many scrapes were you proposing to get into in one fortnight’s visit?
    He went up to his room to put on his riding boots. They had been splashed with mud at the horse fair, and he had given them to Dipper to be cleaned. Dipper had them ready for him, polished to their usual mirrorlike shine. All part of Dipper’s daily routine— nothing out of the ordinary there. Indeed, as Julian said afterward, there was nothing unusual anywhere in his room when he left it. He went downstairs and out to the carriage court, where Hugh and a groom were waiting with the horses.
*7* Foul Play
    TThere’s nothing to be concerned about, Hugh kept telling himself. In fact, it’s very jolly that Kestrel and Miss Craddock are getting on so well. If he pays her a compliment or two, what harm is there in that? Those sorts of little gallantries don’t mean anything; in London, Kestrel probably hands them about like visiting cards. / know that—but does Miss Craddock? She’s a bit naive and unworldly. She might take him too seriously. What if she developed a tendre for him? Lord, it's really too much to expect of a fellow, that he should have to marry a girl who