Page 24 of Miss Flibbertigibbet and the Barbarian
She was acquainted with Melchett, the proprietor. His grizzled face lit when he saw her, and his expression brightened even more when he noticed Nicholas. “Mr. Cynster, sir! Didn’t expect to see you so soon, but we’re pleased to have you back regardless. Same room?” Melchett was already reaching for his register as his gaze returned, curiously, to Addie. “Lady Adriana.” He bobbed his head respectfully. “Welcome, my lady. Will you be wanting to stay, too?”
Addie confirmed she did and, with Nicholas, organized rooms for their party.
Melchett laboriously completed the entries in his register. “Don’t often have the pleasure of putting up any of the Sommervilles, what with Aisby Grange being so close, but today must be Sommerville day.” With a wide smile, Melchett glanced at Addie. “What with your brother here and all.”
Addie blinked, stared, then somewhat faintly asked, “Dickie’s here?”
“Indeed, he is, my lady.” Melchett’s gaze went past her. “In fact, here he is now.”
“Addie?”
She whirled to see her brother emerge from a corridor leading deeper into the inn.
Dark-haired, tallish, with a rangy build much like their father’s, Dickie appeared the epitome of the well-bred young gentleman-about-town.
“I say.” As he ambled toward her, he was grinning in a way Addie would have described as “distinctly mellow.” His gaze went past her to Nicholas, then shifted to take in Sally, standing nearby in her cloak, and the bags piled about them. “What’s up?” His lips still curved in that ridiculous grin, Dickie glanced Addie’s way. “Are you running away from home?”
“No, you fool!” As he looped an arm about her and hugged her, she saw his gaze return to Nicholas, and even after Dickie eased his hold, he didn’t let her go.
She prodded him in the ribs—sharply enough to break through his no-doubt-alcohol-induced absorption. He grunted and focused on her, and she waved at Nicholas. “This is Mr. Nicholas Cynster.”
“Cynster?” Dickie’s gaze snapped to Nicholas, and just like that, adulation replaced his suspicion. “I say, sir.” Dickie released Addie and thrust out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Obviously fighting a grin, Nicholas obligingly shook Dickie’s hand, and Dickie blurted, “What brings you to this neck of the woods?” Then he colored and lamely amended, “Well, at this time of year.”
Nicholas met Addie’s gaze; she hoped he couldn’t guess her thoughts. He’d asked earlier whether The Barbarian’s disappearance might have been a lark perpetrated by her siblings. In answering, she hadn’t thought of Dickie. As far as she’d known, he was still in London, although they’d been expecting him to arrive home at any time. She hadn’t expected to find him in Grantham and couldn’t imagine why he was, apparently, staying at the inn.
Before she could ask any of the questions burning her tongue, Nicholas returned his gaze to Dickie. “I’ve hired a private parlor. Perhaps we should retire there.”
“Yes!” Addie seized Dickie’s arm and gripped hard enough for him to feel her nails. “That’s an excellent idea.”
She dragged her brother toward the door that the bemused Melchett indicated. She paused before the door long enough to fling entirely redundant instructions to Sally, who was already gathering Addie’s bag and her own and preparing to retreat to the room they would share, then Addie opened the door and hauled Dickie into the snug parlor.
She halted before the empty fireplace, released Dickie, and rounded on him. “What the devil are you doing here?”
At that moment, Nicholas stepped into the room and, thankfully, shut the door.
Dickie’s eyes widened, and he rocked back on his heels—for a moment, Addie feared he would topple over backward—but then he blinked owlishly at her. “Came up with some friends. From Lunnon. London.” He blinked again and vaguely frowned at her. “They’re staying here, too. This was our final night together, as it were. They’re off to Nottingham in the morning, and I’d planned to head home then.” He peered at Addie, then glanced at Nicholas. “We called it a night a little while ago—the others are making an early start—and I came to the desk to get a fresh candle…”
Dickie glanced back and forth between Nicholas and Addie, and his blue gaze sharpened. “Here, what’s going on?” He focused on Addie. “I know whyI’mhere, but why areyouhere?” He glanced sideways at Nicholas. “And with Mr. Cynster?”
Nicholas decided it was time to step in. “We’re here because I called at your home with a view to buying one of your father’s horses.”
Dickie blinked at him. “The Barbarian?”
“Just so. We”—Nicholas glanced at Adriana—“were about to agree on the price when we discovered the horse had been stolen.”
Dickie’s eyes grew huge. “From his paddock at the Grange?” He looked at Adriana, and when, lips tight, she nodded, Dickie whistled, then said, “Well, that’s a bit of a facer.” He glanced at Nicholas. “Not many people knew the beast was there.”
“Exactly!” Adriana caught her brother’s eye; Nicholas saw the pointed look she bent on him. “We’ve learned that a dark-haired, well-dressed gentleman riding a chestnut led The Barbarian off the estate, and we’ve tracked him as far as Grantham.”
Nicholas saw Dickie realize what his sister was endeavoring to convey to him. As dark-haired as she was fair and neatly yet elegantly dressed, he was the embodiment of a dark-haired, well-dressed gentleman, and Nicholas wouldn’t mind wagering that Dickie rode a chestnut.
Sure enough, Dickie’s expression darkened, and he scowled at his sister. “It wasn’t me! Good Lord!” He flung up his hands. “What use would I have for a devil of a horse who won’t let anyone but you ride him?”
Adriana studied her brother’s face, reading it as only a sister could, then the tension that had wound her tight abruptly released, and she waved. “Sorry, sorry, but it had to be asked. You turning up here… It was a shock.”
Dickie humphed, but appeared to accept her semi-apology with no further remonstrations. After a moment, he said, “So you followed the thief here…”
