Free Barbara Metzger by Christmas Wishes Page A

Anyways, Charlie was right about his lordship and his Christmas dinner. Magistrate said he’d come out tomorrow to look over the place. No hurry today, with Charlie dead and the killer long gone, he said. And the widder had her money back, so he could stop her caterwauling and send her on her way before she curdled the cream for his pudding. Takes his supper serious, Lord Cantwell does.”
    “Very well, and if you just volunteer as little information as possible when he does arrive, the whole thing should blow over shortly. You can play dumb, can’t you?”
    The boy grinned at him. “Seems I’ve had a heap of practice, my lord.”
    “Quite. And did you do as well at the Fighting Cock?” He hadn’t put his ring on yet, just turned it in his hand. “Did that innkeeper give you any trouble?”
    “Nary a bit, once he saw the brass. And I saw your groom, too.” Ned looked away. “I wanted to make sure he was, you know, not mangled or nothing. He was sitting in the taproom, happy as a grig, Wilton’s daughters making a fuss over him on account of the bandage on his head. Said he slept the day through, then woke up for supper right as rain. He was glad to get your letter, I could tell, and wanted particular to know the horses was safe.”
    “Trust Foley to care more for the chestnuts than for me.”
    “Prime ’uns they are for true. I brushed them down quietlike this morning while you were sleeping. But he asked about you, too. Said he didn’t recognize me a bit, so I was thinking I was home free, till he wanted to know why I wasn’t wearing livery, and if I wasn’t from the Priory, where’d I meet up with you and where’d you get the blunt to pay his shot and hire him a carriage. I didn’t know what you wanted me to say, him being your man and all, so I did what you said just now and played dumb. He thinks I’m stupider’n a rock,” Ned complained, “what doesn’t even know its way home.” He paused to look up at the man who towered over him. “Is it true you’re St. Cloud? The earl hisself, who owns half the county?”
    St. Cloud cursed. He wished Foley’s head had been hit just a mite harder. “I am the earl, yes, but nowhere near as wealthy as all that.”
    The boy whistled through his teeth. “St. Cloud hisself,” he marveled. “And I brushed your horses. Wait till I tell Ma.”
    “You’ll tell her nothing of the sort,” the earl ordered, but knew the boy would burst if he didn’t tell his mother, so tacked on, “until I am long gone. You’ll have to figure a way to tell her without mentioning the robbery. A carriage accident, I think, and you helped. That way you can explain about the money for her doctor.” He flipped the boy two gold coins. “But don’t mention the lady with me.”
    Ned looked confused. “The lady?”
    “Excellent, boy. You’ll have that rock perfect yet. Now tell me, did you send Miss Beaumont to the farmhouse to freshen up? We should be on the road soon, lest Cantwell decide to do his civic duty between meals after all.”
    Ned was shaking his head no, and St. Cloud suddenly felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. “She’s not at the house?” He raced around the barn to the well, Ned and Pansy on his heels. St. Cloud spun back and grabbed the boy’s thin shoulders. “Tell me you gave her directions to a stream or something where she’s gone.”
    White-faced, Ned shook his head again. “She . . . she wasn’t here when I came back, sir. I thought you knew.”
    The earl ran back to the barn to search the stalls in case she woke up and realized the impropriety of sleeping next to him. Maybe he snored. Maybe . . .
    Her things were gone, except for Pansy and the blue blanket. And a page from his notepad, stuck on a nail in the stall where they’d slept. St. Cloud sank down on a bale of hay while he read.
    Dear Merry, Happy birthday and Merry Christmas. You are an honorable man, and under other circumstances I would be