He was feeling his way, gauging how best to pressure Nicholas. Despite their antipathy, he was starting to get a feel for the man; he wasn’t a coward, but was possessed of an extremely cautious nature. Probably a good thing for someone high in the Foreign Office; equally a good thing in a traitor.
Nicholas had blanched at his words, but, this time, had himself well in hand. Lips thinning, he nodded, effectively ending the discussion; Charles got the impression that he’d been fishing for confirmation, having already followed much the same line of thinking.
Penny finished her breakfast; he quickly downed the last pieces of his roast beef, stood, and drew back her chair.
Rising, she glanced at her gown. “I’ll have to change.” Her back to Nicholas, she looked up and raised her brows. “I’ll meet you in the hall.”
“In the forecourt—I’ll have the horses saddled and brought there. I need to be in Fowey by half past ten.”
Her eyes asked Why? and Why didn’t you tell me earlier? but she nodded, threw a quick farewell Nicholas’s way, and left.
Nicholas rose as he turned to make his own farewell, joining him as he left the parlor. “Do you conduct a lot of business in the area personally?”
Charles glanced at him, wondering. “No. My steward and agent handle almost everything.”
“Ah, I see. I thought the trip to Fowey…”
“That’s part of the investigation.” Halting, he faced Nicholas. “It’s Gimby’s funeral. There’s an old saw that murderers often turn up to watch their victims go into the ground—to witness their final end, so to speak. I’m hoping our professional might not be so pro
fessional and turn up.”
Nicholas drew a not-quite-steady breath, tightly said, “In that case, I wish it might be so. Anything that removes such a cold-blooded murderer from among the innocent is greatly to be desired.”
With a nod, he headed for the library.
Charles watched him go, intrigued; of all the words Nicholas had uttered in his hearing, those last had been unquestionably the most sincere.
He was waiting with their horses in the forecourt when Penny came hurrying out. She came down the front steps; a smile of anticipation lighting her face, she walked quickly to him.
She halted before him, waiting to be lifted to her saddle.
He took a moment to slap down his demons; kissing her witless in the forecourt in full view of the library windows wouldn’t be a clever thing to do.
Reaching for her, he lifted her up. He informed her of their reason for hying to Fowey as he held her stirrup for her.
He was mounting Domino when the thud of approaching hooves reached them. They both shortened their reins; holding their horses steady, they watched a dusty rider come galloping in along the drive.
The rider saw them, drew rein, and trotted the last way.
“Mornin’, ma’am, sir. I’m looking for Lord Arbry.”
Penny waved to the house. “If you’ll just ring the bell…”
Norris had heard the hoofbeats; he appeared on the porch.
A step behind him came Nicholas. “I’m Arbry. Is that the dispatch from the Foreign Office?”
“Yes, m’lord.” The courier dismounted and unbuckled a satchel from his saddle. He handed it to Nicholas, who’d come down the steps to take it.
“Good.” Nicholas examined the bag, checking the seals, then nodded at the man. “If you take your horse to the stable, then come up to the house, Norris here will take care of you.”
“Thank you, m’lord.” With a bow to Nicholas and another to Penny and Charles, the man led his horse away around the house.
Nicholas tucked the bag under his arm.
Leaning on his saddle, Charles said, “I didn’t realize you were working down here.”
Penny picked up the silky, dangerous note in his voice; she wondered if Nicholas had. He seemed faintly flustered.