With a little difficulty, still preoccupied as he was with the effect Delia had on him, Giff brought his attention to bear on his predicament. “Could be. I doubt he’s had time to think of engaging someone since he learned of my arrival.”
“Then what was your purpose?”
“In making myself talked of? Exactly what you supposed. To make enough stir that I’m certain to be the subject of gossip. Piers will hear of it. He has only to keep his ears open.”
“You mean you think he’s actually in the town?”
Shock sounded in her voice and he looked round. “Don’t you? He hasn’t shown himself abroad, but in his shoes, with his hope of luring me to the town by having his men watching you, I’d have secured a suitable lodging and be ready to move in at a moment’s notice.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Heavens, he might have been staying there when he came to see me!”
“Unlikely. Probably he moved in the moment he heard of my advent. I made sure to show myself when that fellow Rodber took me about.”
“And either Sam or Barney saw you and took the word to him where he was previously staying. Then he might be looking for you in Weymouth at this moment!”
“Hardly. He’ll have heard of this expedition and will likely bide his time.”
Delia was silent for a moment or two. Giff eyed her.
“What are you thinking?”
The frown was back as she looked at him. “How little I really know.”
“About this business?”
“About you, Giff. I’ve had to piece it together from snatches here and there. There’s so much I don’t understand.”
It seemed odd to him to think her ignorant, such familiarity as he felt with her. Yet in actual time he supposed their acquaintance was slight. “What don’t you understand?”
The frowning look of concentration did not abate. He could not but be gratified by the intensity of her interest in him and his welfare.
“The Reverend Gaunt cannot be your only relative in these parts. Aside from Piers, I mean. What of your mother’s family? And your stepfather’s too.”
The deuce! Must she start on that? He prevaricated. “You mean the Favells?”
“Who are they?”
“Matthew Favell is my stepfather. He doesn’t wish me to contact them. There’s no point in any event. They don’t know me any more than my great-uncle does.”
Delia was eyeing him with a look of puzzlement. Giff made no attempt to explain away his sudden surly mood. Her tone became minatory. “Is that all you care for? You have no use for anyone who can’t identify you?”
He was nettled. “I didn’t say that. And before you suggest I go knocking on Lord Saunderton’s door, let me tell you nothing would induce me to do so.”
“Who is Lord Saunderton?”
“If he’s not dead, my grandfather. He disowned my mother when she ran off with Matt, and I’m having nothing to do with him, or any of that family.”
“Then you’re a stubborn idiot, Giffard Gaunt!” Exasperation sounded in her voice, but he’d no chance to respond before she was off again. “How do you know your grandfather might not be able to help you? If you insist on being ruled by stupid prejudice, I’m not surprised you have to skulk about like a criminal!”
“Skulk about? Do I look as if I’m skulking about?”
“Where does this Lord Saunderton live?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care!”
“Yes, you do. At least, you may not care, but you know. I refuse to believe your stepfather did not provide you with all the necessary information.”
True enough, but he was too raw with his mother’s loss to be remotely willing to proffer an olive branch to her family.