Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,36

came the cantankerous voice from the bed. “What do you want? I didn’t send for you.”

“I know. So the mountain has come to Mohammed.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Dan wandered into the bedchamber where his grandfather was reading the Morning Post from two days ago. He sprawled into the chair at the bedside. “I came to ask if I might borrow a horse to ride into Kidfield.”

“Farley exercises the only decent horse we have left for riding. You’ll interfere.”

“Fair enough. I’ll walk.”

His grandfather scowled. “Oh, take the damned horse.”

“Thank you,” Dan said. “Also, about Myerly. When did you last look about the place?”

“I don’t need to. I keep a steward.”

“But you don’t listen to him, do you? Do you know, you can tell almost immediately the borders of Myerly land because it’s so much poorer than the land that borders it?”

“What do you know about land?” the old man growled. “City wastrel.”

“Not a huge amount,” Dan admitted. “But I can recognize poverty anywhere.”

“It’s good land. Always has been.”

“And I’ve no doubt it could be again. With just a little investment.”

His grandfather glared. “Are you daring to tell me how to run my estate?”

“No, I’m daring to tell you to listen to those you pay to run your estate,” Dan retorted.

The subsequent quarrel was inevitable, and Dan knew he was doing himself no favors as far as inheritance went. The old man grew almost incandescent with rage until Dan, fearing his grandfather’s health would relapse, finally beat a retreat.

However, he wasn’t entirely displeased. He had made a few points that he had seen strike home. The old man might never do anything about it. But he might.

And since he hadn’t withdrawn his permission concerning the horse, Dan freed Gun and walked round to the stables.

As he rode around to the drive, Gun trotting beside the horse, he heard his grandfather’s yells though the open window. He hoped the old man wasn’t directing his temper at poor Waits. But in fact, the other slightly strangled, pacifying voice that drifted out of the open window, was Colin’s.

Dan grinned with a hint of ill-nature. His cousin seemed to have copied Dan in visiting without invitation. And without realizing Dan had already put his lordship in a filthy temper. Or had he thought to soothe the old devil and win favor that way?

All these machinations and suspicions surrounding the sickbed of a cantankerous and ultimately sad old gentleman left a nasty taste in Dan’s mouth. It was one reason he had wanted to spend some time away in Kidfield.

The other reason, of course, was that he had the feeling Juliet would expect him to contact Mrs. Harper now he was sure Susan was indeed her daughter. He wasn’t much given to analyzing his motives, but he suspected he didn’t often go out of his way to please people. He also knew that while he didn’t want Mrs. Harper to suffer further unease, it was his promise to Juliet that took him to the Black Cat.

Mrs. Burton, the innkeeper’s wife, remembered him. Or at least she remembered Gun. At any rate, she greeted him with wary courtesy.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Harper,” he said. “She arrived on the same coach as I did. I believe she’s staying here?”

“She was,” Mrs. Burton agreed. “But she left yesterday.”

Dan frowned. “You mean she’s vanished?”

“I mean, she paid her account and left. She did say she might be back.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

Mrs. Burton thought. “Aldergreen.”

“What the deuce is there in Aldergreen?” Dan demanded. Then he remembered. “Barracks.”

“That’s right, sir.”

And Mrs. Harper still believed her daughter was with a soldier. Or was trying to find out from him where Susan was.

He had a horse. He could ride to Aldergreen, although he had no money to change horses, so it would take him forever. And then everyone would be looking for him.

He sighed. “I’ll write her a note for when she comes back.”

Leaving his note with Mrs. Burton, he took his mug of ale outside into the yard, where a dazzling sight greeted him. A post-chaise had stopped to change horses, and stepping down from it was a young man in a magnificent bright yellow traveling coat. Beneath it, he wore a civilized blue coat, but a striped waistcoat of exactly the same shade of yellow could also be seen, along with a quizzing glass dangling from a yellow ribbon.

The young man stopped, appearing not to notice that the other occupant of the coach could not now alight. Lifting his quizzing glass, he peered