“Philip Everson, my father’s man of business, has been a victim. He has had a snuff-box, a silver comb, several cravat pins, a pair of cuff links, and a good quality fob watch stolen. It is a lot for a single man to lose.”
Sophia stopped in the middle of the pavement. “I didn’t realise he had lost that much,” she replied with a frown.
“That is only one person. My father has had an ornate picture frame and several trinket boxes stolen, a snuff box, and two small ornaments. Little tiny silver woodland creatures they were as well, and quite exquisite.”
“I take it the rest of the group have also had similar items taken?”
“They have. All small, and all similar,” Jeb replied.
“Have you spoken to anyone else about them? Have you asked any of the other guests at your father’s dinner?”
As they ambled along side by side she tried to ignore his height compared to her rather a mediocre size. The solid reassurance of his bulk made her feel strangely protected in a way but incredibly worried in another. The man positively reeked of masculinity. Such strength beside her made it difficult to think practically or sensibly about anything, especially the thefts. She had to be careful what she did around this man because he was no fool. One wrong look; one wrong word; and she suspected she would never get rid of him.
“What’s the matter? You look worried,” Jeb remarked after several moments of companionable silence.
He glanced over at her, as he found himself regularly doing, and knew there was something she was keeping from him because her brows were dipped into a deep frown. He suspected that she was bothered about the thefts in some way.
“Have you had anything stolen, Miss Carney?”
“Me? No,” she replied.
She realised then that he had been watching her, and struggled to find a way to explain her thoughtful contemplation.
“I am just trying to remember if I saw anything untoward at the dinner the other evening, but cannot say that I did. I am sorry I cannot be of much help to you.”
When he continued to amble alongside her and repeatedly looked searchingly at her, she had to put some distance between them. If only so she could gather her wits about her. It was too difficult with him there.
“Look, I cannot really help you. I don’t know the village all that well, really, nor do I know many of the villagers apart from my aunt. I suggest you try the Harvells. They seem to have a good grasp of the gossip. Perhaps they might have heard something, or seen something. I have to go now but should be alright getting back by myself now, thank you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
She whirled around and hurried off without a backward look. As she practically ran toward the house she prayed he wouldn’t follow her, and was on edge all the way back to the front door. Once there, she slammed into the house and raced toward the kitchen only to slump in the doorway when she found the table empty, and Delilah in the process of pouring herself a cup of tea.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Delilah demanded in alarm. She dropped the pot onto the table with a clatter and hurried toward Sophia, who was panting for breath and struggling to form her words.
Before Sophia could say anything a rapid series of knocks on the front door broke the silence.
“It’s him,” she whispered as she threw a worried look over her shoulder.
“Who? The magistrate?” Delilah demanded in horror. Her eyes flew around the room in a panic.
At any other time she would have felt guilty for worrying her aunt, but given the trouble Delilah was causing she really didn’t care.
“No, Jebediah Hutchinson, the Lord’s son. He has been asking me questions about the trinket boxes you stole. They were his father’s, Delilah,” Sophia whispered. “You go and answer the door. He knows I lied to him when I said I didn’t know anything.”
Before Delilah could protest, Sophia shoved her in the direction of the front door.
Jeb knocked louder.
“Wait!” Sophia whispered. When Delilah looked at her, she lifted her hands up questioningly. “Where are they?”
“Hidden,” Delilah whispered secretively, and yanked the door open with an overly bright smile on her face before Sophia could demand where.
While Delilah dealt with the guest, Sophia looked askance at the cupboards in the kitchen and hoped she didn’t need to open any while the rather curious Jeb Hutchinson was in the house. With nothing else to do she went in search of a tea tray.
“Good morning, Mr Hutchinson. What a pleasure it is to see you again, and so soon as well. Come in, come in,” Delilah beckoned into the hallway and stood back.
In a desperate attempt to hide her nerves, Sophia hurried to the fire and put a pot of water on to boil. She was painfully aware of the low hum of conversation in the sitting room but was too far away to hear what was being said. She knew it was the height of bad manners to not venture in to say good morning again, even though she had already seen him, but she just couldn’t face him again so soon.