here. He would save those for when he returned to the city.
While in Showbury, he would need to employ patience and charm. Patience to break through layers of mistrust erected by his tenants and charm to convince the widow he needed her help after all. Because without her, making the necessary repairs around his estate would be a study in frustration and inefficiency.
He kicked Reaper into a faster pace, one to match the anticipation thundering through his blood.
Seven
Catherine made her way down the staircase, going over what she would say to Meghan McCarthy. Such an inauspicious beginning for a shy young girl, especially since she refused to reveal the identity of her babe’s father. The vicar was an optimist, though, and had asked Catherine to join him one more time at the McCarthy cottage to see if they could coax a name from her.
This venture would no doubt be as unsuccessful as the last. Every time someone broached the subject with Meghan, she became agitated and withdrawn. At first, Catherine thought the girl protected the father because of some misplaced loyalty. But during their last unfruitful conversation, Catherine began to suspect the girl feared her beau.
For this reason, Catherine had agreed to accompany Mr. Foster for another visit. This time, she would find an opportunity to speak with Meghan alone. See if the girl would confide in her. Reveal her secret. Deep in her own thoughts, Catherine missed the low exchange of voices at the entry door.
“Good day, Mrs. Ashcroft,” the newcomer said.
She glanced up to find the gentleman she’d met in London handing his hat and gloves to her butler. “Mr. Cochran,” she said, at a loss for words. “This is quite unexpected. What brings you to Showbury?”
“Why, you, of course.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “Do you not recall my promise to see you in a few days?”
“Indeed, I do.” The stiffness in her muscles relaxed from their initial shock. “You simply caught me by surprise.”
“Shall I return at a more convenient time?” he asked. “You appear to be on your way out.”
“I have only a few minutes to spare, then I must be off to an important meeting.” She motioned toward the drawing room. “Shall we?”
“By all means.”
Still stinging from Lord Somerton’s rebuff, she had a difficult time piecing together information she could share. “If you’ve come for a report on my observations, Mr. Cochran, I’m afraid I have little to convey.” She sat on the edge of the high-back chair, leaving the lemon and mint striped sofa for her visitor.
He eased himself onto the sofa with a languidness that bespoke of someone settling in for a nice long chat. Folding one leg over the other, he asked, “Why is that, Mrs. Ashcroft?” The smoothness of his voice cut through the air like a saber slicing through its victim.
“His lordship returned only yesterday, sir,” she said. “I was fortunate to gain a short audience with him. If I hadn’t been meeting with his steward when he arrived, I would not have had even that yet.”
“Yes, I see what you mean.” He drummed his fingers on the cushion beside him. “How did Lord Somerton appear?”
Catherine searched her memory. “Tired. Somewhat preoccupied.” Incredibly compelling, satisfyingly disgusted with his steward. Achingly grateful. “But his condition might have had more to do with his long journey from London and the disturbing news he received about his estate than with his troubles in the city.”
“Disturbing news, you say?”
Conscious of time ticking away, she said, “Yes, a steward who took advantage of his position.” She rose. “I’m sorry, but I really must go if I’m to make my appointment.”
Instead of following suit, he merely smiled and indicated her seat. “Another moment of your time, please.”
Catherine hesitated. She had nothing more to share and she refused to keep Meghan and the vicar waiting. Their audience with the young mother would be difficult enough without the delay.
“I cannot,” she said. “I would be happy to meet with you afterward.”
“I, myself, am under time constraints.” His smile turned brittle. “Please. Sit.”
Gritting her teeth, she sat.
“Thank you.” His blue eyes bore into hers. “Have you ever heard of the Alien Office, madam?”
“No, sir.”
“I’m not surprised. Few have,” he said. “The Alien Office operates under the auspice of the Home Office, although some members of the office report directly to the Foreign Office.”
He paused, seeming to wait for her acknowledgment. “I’m listening,” she said dutifully.
“Simply put, the Alien Office’s sole mission is to gather intelligence, both