Free Love's Harbinger by Joan Smith Page A

indifference settled over his harsh features. “Lord Thomas is a minor matter as far as I’m concerned. I must stop at Fareham. Naturally you and your aunt are free to do as you wish. There is no fear of highwaymen in this part of the country. Their little vice near the coast is smuggling, not robbery.”
    She stared, incredulous. “You mean you aren’t making this trip to follow Thomas?”
    “Not just to catch him,” he replied. He didn’t emphasize catch,” but she noticed it and knew a man whose tools were words had not made the change by chance. He spoke on calmly, but calmness was at an end for Faith. Her companion was a clear and obvious enemy again. “There’s a by-election at Fareham today. I have a man down there following the outcome. I have to see him.”
    “How long will you stop?” she asked stiffly.
    “For as long as my business takes, but it need not detain you. You must continue your pursuit of Lord Thomas, by all means.”
    After that brusque exchange, they continued through the chalky South Downs. Castles and churches were observed in stony silence. As they drew nearer to the coast, the skies grew darker and a fierce wind carried the tangy sea scent in its grip. No rain had fallen yet, and the dry dust flew in clouds, while the tree branches whipped like sheets in the wind. Soon the ominous roll of thunder was heard reverberating in the heavens.
    “Aunt Lynne will be frightened to death,” Faith said. “Are we nearly at Fareham?”
    “It won’t be long now. With luck, we’ll be there before the storm breaks.” He sounded not only unconcerned but rather satisfied. It occurred to Faith that she and her aunt could hardly proceed on their quest in the teeth of a roaring storm. She was already irritated at the prospect of the ferry crossing and had no intention of attempting it in bad weather.
    When they reached Fareham, they found the little seaport to be bustling with activity, as voters made their way to and fro to cast their ballots. They drove to the Red Lion and waited a moment for Lady Lynne. Her carriage had remained close behind them all afternoon, but when they drew into the inn yard, there was no sign of it. “I hope my aunt hasn’t had an accident,” Faith said.
    “Come along inside before the rain starts. I’ll send my driver back for her.” Delamar spoke to his groom and took her arm to propel her into the hostelry. It was a quaint, unsophisticated country inn with humble furnishings, but on this election day it was busy. “Do you think this storm is going to blow over soon?” he asked the proprietor.
    “We’re in for a gale it looks like,” he was told. “You and your lady are lucky. I only have the one room left, and not my finest either, but you won’t want to carry on your trip in this weather.” He lifted a key and handed it to Guy. “The Mermaid Room is what I have available, sir.”
    Faith felt a moment’s embarrassment at the misunderstanding, but there was no archness in Delamar’s manner. “You and your aunt had best take it before it’s gone,” he advised her.
    “But where will you sleep?”
    “Don’t worry about me. Unnecessary advice, I think?” he asked, slanting a mocking smile at her. She was loath to take the last room after his jibe. “Go ahead,” he urged. ‘‘Your aunt won’t thank you for offering to sleep on a bolster by the fireside. That’s a gentleman’s prerogative— I’ll pretend I’m a gentleman, for tonight.”
    While she signed the register, he continued talking to the proprietor. “Is Dick Fletcher staying here?”
    “Aye, we have Mr. Fletcher with us. You’re in the shipping business as well, are you?”
    “That’s right,” he lied, for there were occasions when a journalist did not advertise his true calling in the interest of hearing the truth. “Would you have any idea where I might find Mr. Fletcher?”
    “He just stepped into the taproom for a wet. A roaring business we’re doing today. We’re having