Page 62 of And Then There Was the One
He smiled at her indulgently. “You know, you’re a dreadful liar. Rather reassuring, really! At least I know thatyouaren’t a murderer!” And with a jaunty whistle, he set off down the road once more, Georgie on his arm and wondering when, precisely, her life had become so unexpected.
Several hours later—hours that Georgie had spent digging happily in the garden; hours that Sebastian had spent eating a half dozen sandwiches, a sizable portion of the bread-and-butter pudding that Abigail had made the day before, and at least three or four shortbread biscuits that remained in a tin and “looked lonely”—Georgie was curled up in the drawing room, thumbing through an old issue ofCountry Life, when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Glancing up, she was just in time to see Sebastian prance through the doorway wearing a fresh pair of trousers and a pale blue jumper that perfectly matched his eyes. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. His blond hair was ever so slightly rumpled, in an attractive way that Georgie suspected was intentional. His face shone with a healthy glow.
Georgie leaned closer to him. “Why is your skin… glistening? Don’t tell me you’ve somehow found someone to playtennis with you in the past hour?” She was nearly certain he hadn’t; not an hour earlier, she’d seen him in this very room, on his back, staring at the ceiling, biscuit tin balanced carefully on his abdomen.
“No,” he said, sounding pleased. “I held my face above the teakettle when it was letting off steam. Just enough to give me that delicate flush of exercise.” He batted his eyelashes at her. “Although I can think of avastlymore pleasant way I might have worked up a healthful glow—”
“That’s enough, thank you.” It would be easier to stop him flirting with her, she reflected, if she could cure herself of the habit of kissing him impulsively. It would help if he could stop being so… (She mentally gestured at his entire physical being.)
“I ambait, Georgie,” he explained patiently. “I have to look the part. I need to send their delicate female minds into a tizzy of unfulfilled lust. Now, are you ready to set off?” he asked, smiling charmingly at her. “Only, remember, you’re to hide yourself away where the ladies won’t notice you. Might put a damper on the mood if they see me with my would-be lady love.”
“Your—” Georgie began, but he turned and pranced from the room again, leaving her gaping like a fish, with little option but to follow him.
Within a quarter of an hour, they’d arrived at the Fleecy Lamb, which prided itself on a (relatively) more upscale atmosphere than the Shorn Sheep. Arthur met them at the door, his mouth twitching at the sight of Sebastian, and he and Georgie proceeded to hide themselves away in the darkest corner.
“How do you propose to lure them in to have a drink with you?” Georgie asked, curious in spite of herself.
Sebastian winked at her. “That won’t be difficult. Like herding sheep.”
“I’d like to see you try herding Ernest, and then you might revise that turn of phrase,” Georgie advised him.
Not five minutes later, however, he was back, escorting Miss de Vere and Miss Singh into the pub and proclaiming in loud, carrying tones, “… can’t believe my good fortune in running into you ladies! And while I am unaccompanied, for once!” Georgie didn’t dare crane around to look at him, but she would have bet a tidy sum that he’d dropped a wink at the end of that sentence.
“And whereisMiss Radcliffe this evening?” came Miss de Vere’s voice as he led them to a table close enough for Georgie and Arthur to easily eavesdrop.
“At home, scrutinizing clues without me, no doubt,” Sebastian said, a touch mournfully. He and Georgie had spent some time discussing what angle he ought to attempt when approaching the ladies, and had landed on “man with wounded professional pride” as the one the ladies would find most plausible. Men were terribly easy to offend, after all.
“No doubt,” Miss Singh agreed, sounding impressed; Georgie was tempted to laugh.
“Ladies, what can I fetch you?” Sebastian asked, and Miss Singh asked for a cider, while Miss de Vere requested a specific whisky. Next to Georgie, Arthur whistled quietly in appreciation. Sebastian left to head to the bar, and Georgie and Arthur leaned forward in their seats, listening hard.
Unfortunately for them, no confessions of misdeeds were forthcoming from the ladies; instead, they spent a few minutes debating—Georgie could not believe her ears—whether Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane should get married in Dorothy Sayers’s novels.
Sebastian returned at last, and there were murmured thanks from both women, followed by a moment of silence, during which all three were presumably sipping their drinks.
“You’re looking very… healthy, this evening,” Miss de Vere said after several seconds. There was athunkas she evidently set her glass down on the table.
“I spent my afternoon practicing a spot of tennis,” Sebastian said easily.
“Where?” This was Miss Singh’s voice. “I haven’t seen courts anywhere.”
“Er.” Sebastian was clearly thinking fast. “I practiced against the side of Radcliffe Hall. No one to play with, but want to keep the reflexes sharp.” His voice dropped an octave. “For other pursuits, of course.” Next to Georgie, Arthur buried his face in his drink.
“Of course,” Miss Singh said, sounding a bit taken aback by this turn in tone. She quickly rallied, however. “What do you and Miss Radcliffe plan to investigate next?” She dropped her voice. “Stella and I would be more than happy to lend you our services to be a distraction once again!” She sounded as though she were about to burst with pride.
“I’m not entirely certain,” Sebastian said, sounding a bit glum. “We didn’t uncover anything today but a bunch of paperwork. No doubt Miss Radcliffe has plenty of ideas for whatto do next, though. Not that she’s shared them with me.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “But we certainly won’t hesitate to ask you for help again, if it’s needed.” A pause, and then, “I only wish I could rely on you when I return to London to work.”
“What do you do for work, then, Fletcher-Ford?” Miss de Vere asked, sounding intrigued.
“Oh, it wouldn’t interest you,” Sebastian dismissed. “I would hate to bore two such beautiful women, when I finally have you to myself.”
“But…” Miss Singh sounded a bit hesitant. “What about Miss Radcliffe?”
“What about her?” Georgie could practicallyseeSebastian’s shrug.
“Well,” Miss Singh said, sounding reproving, “you’re meant to be her romantic subplot!”
“Her… what?”
