Free Behind the Mask (House of Lords) by Meg Brooke Page A

into the sea. Between the valley and the village there were farms and field studded with windmills. It almost reminded Colin of the coast of Belgium.
    The village, however, was distinctly British. The buildings were stout half-timber edifices with thick chimneys and narrow windows, their jettied upper storeys poking out over the streets. It was not a large village. There was a church at one end of the long street, and in front of it an open village commons in which stood a large oak tree. There could not have been more than twenty houses in the village itself, Colin thought, and as they had ridden along the river he had counted only eight farmhouses. Two hundred people at the most, then, the majority of them born right here in Porter-on-Bolling.
    The inn, which was optimistically called the King’s Rest, was a wide building two doors down from the church. Colin and Strathmore stepped into the dimly lit taproom to find it empty, but it was only moments before the innkeeper bustled out, his wide face breaking into a grin.
    “Welcome, sirs,” he said. He was wiping a mug on his apron. “What can I do for you?”
    “We are looking for our friend, a Mr. Yates,” Strathmore said. “He was meant to meet us here.”
    The innkeeper looked puzzled. “Haven’t seen him since yesterday morning, sir,” he said. “He went out on horseback just after breakfast, but he didn’t come back last night. Said he meant to do some exploring of the region, and we weren’t to worry if he didn’t return until very late. Said he liked spending the night out in the open.”
    Reconnaissance, then. Yates had been watching for something and had planned to stay out late into the night. But not to return to the inn at all struck Colin as rather odd.
    He and Strathmore went out and mounted their horses to begin the ride back to Sidney Park. “Would you say this is normal behavior for Yates?” Colin asked as they left the village.
    “Do you know,” Strathmore said, smiling tightly, “it is. Yates is a brilliant agent, My Lord, and quite adept at his work, but he does tend to get a little carried away. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had stayed out on the flats all night watching for suspicious persons. But it is strange that he didn’t return to the inn today.”
    “My thoughts exactly. We’ll give him until tomorrow morning to turn up, but then we’ll have to search for him.”
    For a while they rode in silence, both lost in their thoughts.
    Then Strathmore said, “Do you think Miss Chesney always dresses like a man to ride?”
    Colin laughed. “I suppose she does.” He didn’t say what he was thinking, which was that Strathmore had done a far better job concealing his surprise than Colin himself had. He was sure he had stared far longer than was polite when she had stridden so calmly into the room in breeches that fit her like a second skin. Many times he had caught himself not hearing a word Strathmore said as he watched her ahead of them on the trail.
    This could not happen. Aside from the fact that he had always believed romantic attachments to be a complication he could not afford in his line of work, there was the further consideration that her brother was due to arrive in a matter of days. Colin did not know Leo as well as he once had, but he was certain he was not likely to look kindly on the man who had been sent to protect his family developing a tendre for his sister instead.
    He would remain aloof, just as he had done since Angeline. It would not be difficult, after all. He would likely never see the girl again after this. When this sojourn in the British countryside was through he was going back to Brussels, and he meant to remain on the Continent as long as he possibly could. One day, he knew, his father would die, and Colin would be the Earl of Townsley. But his father was young. That day was a long way off.
    By the time they arrived back at Sidney Park tea had been cleared away, and the house was quiet. Everyone seemed