Page 107 of The Moonstone Pirate
Deandra shrugged. “I suppose he knows best. Besides, where are we to go now that Mrs. Halsey’s tea shop is closed for the next few days?”
“She’s arranged for space at the Kestrel Inn,” Imogen said. “But it isn’t the same. The inn is nice, though. We can complete our volunteer work tomorrow morning and stop there afterward for a bite to eat.”
“And strawberry tarts for dessert.” Deandra cast her an impish grin then ran off to join Phoebe.
Imogen never lazed abed, but she felt awfully cozy now that Betty had brought her a pot of tea, marmalade, and scones. While munching on her breakfast, she perused her sketches. Nothing of interest cropped up in the first book, nor in the second. But she leaped out of bed after looking at the third, which contained sketches of London in the late spring. She had drawn these at the end of May, a few weeks before her annualsummer visit to Moonstone Landing. “Betty! Betty! I need to get dressed!”
Betty ran in, breathless. “Lady Imogen, one would think the roof were caving in. What’s the matter?”
Imogen undid her braid and tossed off her nightgown. “Is my uncle back yet?”
“No, I don’t think he will be back until suppertime.” Betty hastily withdrew fresh undergarments and a pretty yellow morning gown, but Imogen grabbed another gown instead, an ocean-blue muslin suitable for a day in the village. More important, it picked up the blue tones in her butterfly hair clips, and she meant to add a few of those to hold her curls in place.
She was off to find Draco and wanted him to notice the hair clips.
Not that it mattered, because he was going to be furious with her for disobeying her uncle’s order. Sticking a few hair clips in her hair that he had bought her as a love token was not going to calm him down.
She hastily washed, donned her shift, and then sat impatiently while Betty styled her hair and added a few of those clips. “Quick, the gown next, and it needs lacing.”
Betty worked as fast as she could, chiding Imogen when she would not stand still. “I’m going to poke you with this pin if you don’t stop fidgeting. Hold still while I attach the fichu to the collar. Honestly, Lady Imogen. You are as jumpy as a frog.”
She frowned when Imogen ignored the slippers she had set out and put on her walking boots instead.
“Your uncle gave strict instructions you were not to leave home today,” Betty warned.
“I am merely going for a walk. What is so wrong with that?” Imogen grabbed her sketchbook and tore out of her bedchamber, ignoring Betty’s shouts as she chased after her.
“You cannot disobey your uncle’s instructions! He will sack me, Lady Imogen!”
“No, he won’t. I won’t be long! If he returns early, just tell him I am out for a walk. But he won’t be back early, and I will return even before my aunt and Deandra finish their picnic at Moonstone Cottage.” Fortunately, Melrose was not at his post, for he would have stopped her for certain. But the young footman who had momentarily relieved him was not as secure in his authority and allowed her to pass when she tipped her nose into the air and, in her most condescendingly commanding tone, ordered him to step aside.
She asked for a horse to be saddled, but the stable hands had also been instructed not to let her off the property and refused her request. “Sorry, Lady Imogen. His lordship was quite clear.”
Ugh!Her uncle meant to keep her locked away. At Draco’s insistence, no doubt.
But it was vital she speak to Draco before he held his meeting with the Irishman.
Since Betty had also followed her out, she realized a bit of subterfuge would be required. “Fine,” she muttered within Betty’s hearing. “I’ll be spending the day in my bedchamber, and I do not wish to be disturbed!”
She marched back inside, felt the staff’s gaze on her as she stomped up the stairs, and made a point of slamming her door. Since the staff had never seen her throw a tantrum before, it left them confused, uncertain, and they all scurried for cover. This allowed her to skitter unseen down the back stairs and slip out of the house.
Once away from the house, she broke into a run. She could make it to the village in less than twenty minutes at this pace. The air was stifling and the sun beat down on her, but it was only a couple of miles from here to there, and she could cut across the Duke of Claymore’s meadow to trim a little off the distance.
Goodness, it was hot. Of all the days to have no wind.
But she pressed on, because showing Draco what she had found would not take long to do. Afterward, it would not be difficult to have one of Mr. Matchett’s grooms hitch a rig and drive her home. Indeed, she would return in plenty of time to greet Deandra and Phoebe when they returned from their picnic at Chloe’s.
Her boots were sturdy, and she was used to taking long walks, but Imogen was completely out of breath by the time she reached the high street. Draco was to meet the Irishman at the Three Lions within the hour, but she did not know if he would be at the tavern yet.
She decided to stop by the Kestrel Inn and ask Thaddius if he knew of Draco’s whereabouts, since the innkeeper was as curious as she was and seemed aware of the comings and goings of everyone in the village. If Thaddius hadn’t seen him, then she would stop by Constable Angel’s office and inquire of him.
Thaddius, as hoped, had the answer she sought. “I noticed him walking to the tavern with Parrot not five minutes ago.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and hurried across the street.
Her next problem was how to sneak into the tavern without being noticed. William Angel was a very nice young man, but he would refuse to admit her if she attempted to walk in on her own. Proper young ladies were simply not allowed in the tavern without an escort, and there was not a man in town who would dare escort her for fear her uncle would run him through with a sword blade.
She ambled past the tavern then circled around the back, creeping close enough to peer through one of the rear windows. It was early yet, and the tavern was just opening up. Was anyone in there besides Draco?
