She fixed him with a gimlet eye. “You heard me.”
“Aunt, please!” Delia’s frantic whisper pulled his attention round. She cast him a harassed look and gave an eloquent shrug. What in Hades was in the wind now?
He returned his gaze to the elder lady and gave a bow. “I am at your service, my lady.”
Suspicion began to burgeon as he allowed Tarporley to urge him onward at the captain’s bidding. The oddity of the rector’s presence struck him. What the deuce was Uncle George doing here? He’d met Lady Matterson when he delivered Delia to Weymouth, for he’d told Giff so when he recovered his senses after the shooting. And why now? Was he checking up on his great-nephew? No, he would not blunder in without first discovering how the land lay. Then had he chosen to visit her ladyship? Or was it Delia he had in mind?
His puzzlement increased, but he was obliged to give his attention to Captain Rhoades.
“Sit here, sir. I doubt there is much comfort to be had from any of the chairs in this Godforsak— er … in this place, but there is little choice.”
Giff grinned as he took the indicated seat. “That battle-axe driven you to distraction, has she?”
The captain cast up his eyes. “I shall say nothing, Mr Giffard. Silence is always the best defence.”
Giff had to laugh. “Very true.”
“Are you settled for the present, Giffard?” Lord Tarporley was hovering. “May I leave you? I must see to my sister’s comfort.”
“Go, by all means. I’ve kept you long enough.”
The young fellow coloured. “By no means. Send to me when you are ready to depart and I will see you to your lodging.”
Giff waved him away. “No, no, my dear fellow. I am summoned by Lady Matterson, remember? I shall do well enough, never fear.”
“Very well, if you are certain. But do not hesitate to call on me at need, sir.”
Giff gave the necessary assurance and watched him hurry away towards his sister, who appeared to be deep in conversation with Miss Leigh. “No doubt rabbiting away about the events of the day,” he said aloud.
The captain followed his line of sight. “The ladies? Yet, as I understand it, you were the only one set upon, Mr Giffard?”
Giff snapped his attention back, wary now. “I was.”
Captain Rhoades surveyed him with narrowed eyes. “Were you specifically targeted, do you think?”
He was, of course, but he did not wish it known. Not yet. “I have no idea. Miss Burloyne and I had wandered out of sight of the rest of the party, which may well have made us a target.”
The narrow look did not abate. “Yet Miss Burloyne recognised the fellow for the same who had been one of the pair who held up her coach on the road. She claims also to have seen him in Weymouth.”
“Indeed?” Giff met the questioning look, hoping his expression was sufficiently bland. “I’m afraid I was in no condition at the time to be recognising anyone.”
“You did not know the man, then?”
Giff shrugged. “I’ve never met him before.” True enough. He’d seen both Barney and Sam riding at his heels, but never at close quarters until today.
“What about the other? Miss Burloyne tells me he was the more vicious. A burly fellow. Sam, is it?”
“Is it?”
“And the one who escaped was Barney. Is that right?”
“I didn’t trouble to ask their names, Captain. I was more interested in stopping them from beating me to a pulp!”
He began to feel there was much to be said for Rhoades’ assertion of silence as the best defence. The fellow was astute, he had to give him that. Ought he to cut line and give him the truth?
“I appreciate your preoccupation at the time, sir,” came in clipped tones, “but you will allow it is exceptionally unusual for a couple of highway robbers to be skulking in a seaside resort and then to make an apparently deliberate attack upon an innocent bystander.”
Giff met the steely look and kept his mouth firmly shut.