She managed to get out of the castle and catch a bus back to the Cookes’ without seeing Dory. She could only assume he’d stomped off in a huff and was intending to punish her by his absence.
Lydia answered the door at her knock. “Have a good morning, love?”
“It was interesting,” Samantha said, because there was absolutely no way she was going to talk about what she’d seen. She was almost convinced she’d imagined the whole thing.
Lydia smiled. “You know, Samantha, I was just wondering if you might be up for a little errand tomorrow.”
“Will it require my traveling long distances?” Samantha asked hopefully.
Lydia laughed a little. “Actually, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind nipping down to London and delivering something to a colleague for me. I’d go myself, of course, but Edmund and I start rehearsals soon.” She smiled apologetically. “You know how that goes.”
“I do,” Samantha said, and boy, did she ever. Her father’s stage career had been all consuming for him. Even the university lived in fear of conflicting with his theater schedule.
“There is no hurry, actually, about your arrival,” Lydia said. “I’ll give you a phone number to ring when you reach the city. I hadn’t intended for you to do this, but I thought you might want to—what’s that phrase you have?”
“Get the heck out of Dodge?” Samantha supplied.
“That’s the one,” Lydia agreed. “I can suggest a place or two of interest, or you can just wander without a plan.”
“Oh,” Samantha said, feeling something akin to unease take hold of her. “No plan? I’m not sure that’s wise.”
Lydia smiled gently. “Then let me choose for you, just this time. Castles or gardens?”
“Castles.”
“Medieval or Renaissance?”
“Medieval,” Samantha said reverently. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“Then I’ll book you a couple of spots to stay, suggest a well-preserved medieval relic or two, then send you off in the morning to the station. I’ll get you a key to the house as well, of course. You’ll need to get back in when you return, won’t you?”
Samantha nodded. “I’ll pay you for the hotels—”
Lydia shook her head. “Of course you won’t. You’re doing me the favor of running an errand for me. The least I can do is cover your travel expenses. You can see to your meals, if you like.”
“You are too generous.”
Lydia shrugged, as if she were a little uncomfortable with the thanks. “Not to worry, darling. I’ll go make your arrangements.”
Samantha thanked her again, then made her way up to her room to consider what to take. The entire place was comfortingly free of Elizabethan specters and obnoxious New Englanders both, which was a bonus as far as she was concerned.
Now, if she could have perhaps encountered an extremely handsome guy wearing Middle English sayings on his shirt—and no doubt knowing what they meant—she might have considered that things were truly looking up.
Maybe tomorrow, if she was lucky.
She considered what to take, then decided she would pack as light as possible. Money for food and some ID were probably enough. And as far as clothes went, she wouldn’t take more than would fit in her rather small backpack. After all, it wasn’t as if she would be seeing the same people all the time.
She went to pull her backpack down off the wall and get ready to go.
Chapter 4
Derrick leaned against a handy outcropping in an otherwise quite uninspired bit of brick wall and watched the door a hundred feet to his left. It was not quite seven, but he’d had a feeling the excitement would begin quite early in the day. He glanced to his right as Oliver simply appeared from nowhere, two cups of something steaming in his hands. He gave one to Derrick, then joined him in his leaning. He looked alert, which Derrick could definitely not say about himself, and he had been the one sleeping through the night whilst Oliver kept watch over the Cookes’ residence.
“You could have slept in this morning,” Derrick remarked.
“I slept at the office last week.”
There was no denying that. Among Oliver’s many gifts was the uncanny ability to lose himself in slumber in any location and on any surface. Derrick had avoided him rather well in the lobby of Cameron’s suite of offices, stepped over him several times in the middle of the rug in his own office, and marveled at his ability to make himself comfortable on a sofa that just wasn’t quite long enough for him.
“Perhaps I’ll sleep on the train,” Oliver continued