Page 29 of After the Abduction

That was all that his sly flirtations were—distractions meant to disarm her. When she’d prayed for such attentions two years ago, all she’d received was a nearly ruined reputation and one insolent kiss. So this time she knew better than to let his attentions sway her. If he thought she’d melt into a puddle at his feet, he was sorely mistaken.

“Where is your uncle today, Lord Templemore?” she asked when conversation dragged. His lofty lordship had probably warned the man off to prevent his speaking frankly. “I thought Mr. Pryce spent much of his time here.”

“Rest assured, madam, if not for the snow, he’d be here. Once the lads have shoveled the walks and beaten down the paths, he’ll be in our pockets all the time. Especially at meals. He prefers my cook, you see.”

“With good reason,” her sister put in. Rosalind looked blissful as she bit into an apple tart, her favorite. “Griff, we must get his lordship’s cook to write down the recipe for this. The cook at Knighton House makes ours too sour.”

Griff glowered down the table at his lordship, as if it was all Lord Templemore’s fault that his cook made superior tarts. “I’ll make a note of it, darling.” He settled back in his chair and eyed his apple tart rival with the intensity of a man searching for flaws.

Juliet couldn’t blame Griff for being envious. Charnwood would rival any estate with its amenities and obviously competent management. How odd that a man who’d recklessly involve himself with smugglers would also be a formidable estate manager. Why, she hadn’t found a single corner left undusted. The water in her washbasin was always fresh, the chamber pots always emptied. The maids even polished the undersides of the silver bowls, and nobody ever thought to look there. Except Juliet, of course.

He must pay his servants very well. Either that, or terrify them into working like demons. From what Rosalind’s maid Polly had related, all the maids jumped when he spoke to them.

But if he thought she would do the same, he was in for a shock.

“Templemore, I’m curious about one matter regarding your uncle,” Griff said.

“Yes?” His lordship ate his dessert with admirable calm, given the blistering looks Griff lobbed in his direction at regular intervals.

Griff hadn’t touched his own apple tart. “Is Mr. Pryce married? He seems to spend a great deal of time at your house.”

“Ah.” Lord Templemore flashed Griff a pained glance. “He’s widowed. My aunt died five years ago of a wasting sickness, and he sometimes grows lonely. But he isn’t often in Shropshire, so he doesn’t spend as much time here as it seems. He generally prefers to loll about at the townhouse in Bath.”

“He has a house in Bath, does he?” Rosalind said.

Lord Templemore smiled ruefully. “No, I do.”

Rosalind straightened to attention. “It’s very generous of you to let your uncle use your house.” She darted a knowing glance at Juliet, obviously calculating how quickly she could yoke her sister to this wealthy paragon of generosity.

Juliet ignored her sister and concentrated on dicing her own apple tart into bits.

“Doesn’t sound so much generous as foolhardy,” Griff grumbled. “Let your relations take advantage of you, Templemore, and you’ll soon have no money left.”

“Or they’ll drag you about the countryside on fool’s errands,” Juliet quipped, a little stung by Griff’s comment.

“He didn’t mean you, dearest.” Rosalind shot Griff a warning look.

“Of course I didn’t.” Griff stiffened. “And this was no fool’s errand. We found out some of what we needed to know.”

Some of? Could Griff be as suspicious as she was? No, not given how he’d dismissed her arguments as frivolous. He simply couldn’t believe that a man of Lord Templemore’s stature could do something so heinous. Griff might not like his lordship, but he was impressed by the man’s apparent efforts to reverse the fortunes of a foolish father. Griff wouldn’t easily be persuaded of the man’s treachery.

But she was not impressed, not in the least. Nothing was ever as it seemed with her nemesis. Just because he ran an efficient estate and was nice to his uncle and made her skin tingle didn’t mean he wasn’t every bit the scoundrel underneath. She merely had to figure out how to unmask his true character.

“You know, Lord Templemore,” she said blithely, “I’m still puzzled by one matter. If your brother is dead and you knew nothing of his actions, then who started the rumors about the kidnapping? And why?”

“I told you before, it was undoubtedly a servant.”

“Not one of mine,” Griff said. “My servants are paid well not to gossip.”

“Yes,” Lord Templemore said, “but considering your profession—”

“You mean ‘trade’?” Griff snapped.

“I mean dealing in smuggled goods,” his lordship said smoothly.

Griff bristled. “I don’t do it anymore. My business has been legitimate for years.”

He shrugged. “Still, the connection undoubtedly made you enemies. Someone might have paid your servants even more money to be disloyal.”