He cocked an eyebrow. “It proved satisfactory.”
“Was Lord Montgomery involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“The man is thoroughly dislikable. I wonder what he wished to see my father about.”
“You shall find out soon enough, I daresay.” Ballantine altered his position, drawing his foot from where he’d rested it on his knee, and accidentally nudged her half boot. “I beg your pardon.” He tucked his legs to one side, looking uncomfortable.
“It must be difficult…being so tall…traveling in a carriage, I mean,” she said, hastily shifting her gaze from his pantaloons where they clung to his thighs, and the intriguing shape above. She remembered how his mouth had felt against hers. Firm, and demanding, and utterly thrilling. Her tongue traced her lips, recalling it.
When she dared to raise her eyes to his, he drew in a breath and shifted in his seat. “I don’t care for coach travel. My preference is to ride, if possible.”
“You are very good to do this for me,” she said in a rush. “I am deeply in your debt.”
“No need. I confess to being as eager as you to discover the truth. But not so confident about the outcome. We must wait to see if anything comes from this jaunt.” He folded his arms.
Doubting Thomas. But as he’d obliged her, he may say whatever he wished.
“Lady Diana,” Ballantine said, his eyes searching hers. “If you wish us to continue on this quest, there are two things you must not do.”
“Oh? What are they?”
“Don’t prod me for information on things that don’t concern you, and don’t do that thing with your tongue.”
Her eyes widened and scorching heat spread from her chest down over her body. “I shall try to keep it in mind.” She turned back to the window to hide a grin and didn’t miss his soft laugh.
*
“Ah, here weare,” Damian said as the carriage turned into the forecourt of the Hare and Hounds, a two-story, whitewashed building with a small garden.
Lady Diana looked about. “It seems a harmless place with those people sitting outdoors on benches in the sun.”
“Waiting for the stage coach, most likely. I hope they leave soon so I can examine that wall. A rather futile exercise, but we might learn more from the innkeeper.”
Damian preferred few of his staff to be involved in this affair, hence the absence of a footman. He alighted and assisted Lady Diana, as his most trusted groom removed their luggage from the rear of the carriage. An ostler emerged from the inn to greet them and direct the carriage to the stable yard.
When Damian escorted Lady Diana inside, where savory smells emanated from the kitchen, the innkeeper, having hastily judged his guests rank, waited to attend them. He bowed his head. “Greystones, sir, madam. How can I help you?”
“Beaufort, and this is Miss Ridley. We require separate chambers for me and my cousin, if you please, Greystones,” Damian said.
The innkeeper looked pained. “I have only one bedchamber available. It has a private parlor. As you can see, during this fine spring weather, the inn is full.” He wrung his hands. “But ofcourse I can move someone into a maid’s room. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
“No, please don’t move people about on our behalf. The bedchamber will suffice for both of us,” Lady Diana said quickly.
Damian thought better of arguing with her when he noted the determined expression in her eyes. It would only make Greystones suspicious. “We shall be here for one night. I’ll sleep in the parlor.”
“Don’t be silly, Damian. You are too tall for a sofa.” She turned to the innkeeper. “Mr. Greystones, could you provide me with a truckle bed?”
Lady Diana never failed to surprise him, but Damian had to admit he enjoyed hearing his name on her lips.
“Certainly,” the innkeeper said, obviously relieved. “We will soon serve supper in the dining room. The inn has an excellent cook.”
“I would like my luggage to be brought to my chamber,” Lady Diana said. She turned to Damian. “I’ll join you downstairs shortly, in the parlor.”
With severe misgivings, Damian watched her follow the maid upstairs. “I wonder if you could help us, Greystones. We are here to make inquiries about an incident that occurred at your inn some weeks ago.”
The heavy grooves on Greystones’s forehead deepened. “Yes, my lord?”