Free The Dashing Miss Fairchild by Emily Hendrickson Page B

seemed content to ruralize here, alone. I never could understand why Cousin Peter married the little drab."
    "You have no idea where she is? She does not reside at the Dower House?” Richard queried, wanting to press the earl for more answers. “Forgive my curiosity, but I know how much Miss Fairchild wishes to see her."
    "I'm afraid I know nothing about her,” Millsham snapped, his composure cracking. “My agent pays into an account for her, but that hasn't been touched the past few months.” Then getting himself in hand once again, he added, “Tell you what, old boy, find her and let the know where she is, for I'd like to do something for the poor thing. Not proper to let the sixth earl's wife live in obscurity, now is it?"
    His hearty laugh seemed forced to Clare, and she took a step closer to Richard. She permitted him to guide her onto a sofa at his side and drew comfort from his nearness.
    The butler appeared at the door with a tray of tea and other refreshments suitable for a summer's afternoon. Clare sipped a cool glass of lemonade while wondering how Priddy was making out belowstairs.
    The earl seemed all that was affable. That was the rub. Clare sensed he was uneasy, wary of them, though he had no reason to be, or did he? He sat with his back to the inviting sunshine as though wishing to conceal his expression from them. Or was she simply imagining things? Was she suspicious needlessly?
    Sending Richard a searching look, she sipped the lemonade while wondering if Jane had decorated this room in such a charming style. What sort of woman would the new earl select? She shivered at the thought of marrying such a man as this, who appeared so outwardly smooth and unctuous. And inwardly?
    Finally there was nothing to do but leave. The earl was like a block of stone, refusing or unable to reveal anything more.
    As the coach rumbled down the immaculately kept drive, Richard turned to Clare and said, “His request for news of Jane had all the earmarks of Caesar's order to the wise men to let him know if they found the babe they sought."
    "Murder?” Clare cried. Priddy looked well nigh to fainting.

Chapter Five
    "Not murder, surely,” Mr. Talbot replied, trying to calm both women with his voice and manner. “But his concern did not ring true to the. What was your reaction, Miss Fairchild?"
    "I, too, had the feeling our host was being less than truthful with us, for whatever reason he might have.'’ She glanced across to where Priddy looked more herself, then queried, “Did you discover anything belowstairs?"
    The abigail shot her mistress a triumphant look, then straightened her shoulders. “Aye, that I did. After chatting some time with the cook, I found out that Lady Millsham, the poor little darling as cook called her, was with child at the time the late earl died! Although the cook said nothing direct, I suspect that she felt there was something smoky about the riding accident."
    Clare turned her head to gaze wide-eyed at Mr. Talbot. “I knew it. My instincts rarely mislead the. The sixth earl dies and his countess disappears sometime after. When you total up the baby in the basket, his belongings of the finest quality, and his red hair—you no doubt observed that the present earl has that dark red color?—you cannot deduce other than there is something decidedly fishy about the circumstances. I imagine his elegant lordship might be able to tell us a thing or two about that. Or am I jumping to conclusions on too little evidence?''
    "May I make a suggestion? Why do we not stay over at an inn near here? It might be possible to do a hit of sleuthing about in the neighborhood, possibly set our fears to rest—or bolster our forebodings. As well, you know there are other possibilities. I should hate to think we overlook another prospect. What say you to that?"
    Priddy had stiffened at his words; he could see her rigid figure in the periphery of his vision. He concentrated on Clare Fairchild. In the past she had