There was a girl at the desk that I didn’t recognize, fair and freckled with pale blue eyes that were, at the moment, fixed on the magazine that lay on the counter in front of her. I was relieved that I didn’t know her, for I thought the task at hand would arouse considerably less interest than if it were someone familiar.
I walked up to her. Glancing down, I saw it was a gossip rag that held her attention. So much for my hoping that she would show discretion. I would have to be careful not to give her fodder for any gossip of her own.
“Good afternoon,” I said brightly when she failed to greet me.
“Afternoon,” she said, pulling her eyes from the page to look at me. “Do you want a room?” She asked this in a singularly discouraging manner.
“Thank you, no. I wonder if you could tell me in which room Miss Imogen Prescott is staying.”
“I don’t know the name.”
“Perhaps you could check the register?” I suggested.
The girl gave a little sigh and moved over to the register lying on the counter. She put a finger to the page and moved it slowly downward as she read over the names. It was very leisurely business, and I wondered if she was doing it expressly to annoy me. Her eyes had moved much more quickly over the pages of her gossip magazine.
“No one here by the name,” she said at last.
“Are you quite certain?”
“Yes.” Her gaze met mine, a touch defiantly.
It seemed that Imogen must have decided to lodge at Mrs. Cotton’s rooming house, my alternate suggestion.
“Hello, Mrs. Ames.”
I turned to see Marena Hodges coming out of a little room that led off the foyer—an office, I thought.
“Oh. Hello.” I had forgotten that Marena Hodges worked here. Mrs. Busby had mentioned as much to me at the vicarage, I remembered suddenly, but I had been daydreaming. Now I had to think of a way in which to extricate myself without giving away too much information. It was a miracle that gossip wasn’t already flying all across the village, and I didn’t want to be the one who started it. I could only hope that Imogen and Darien didn’t suddenly appear at the same time.
“I’m looking for a friend, but I think she must have taken a room with Mrs. Cotton,” I said quickly.
To my relief, neither she nor the freckled girl, who had slid her magazine beneath the desk when Marena appeared, seemed curious about my friend.
“I suppose I’ll see you at the festival?” Marena said.
“Yes. I’m quite looking forward to it.”
I was just preparing to turn and leave when I heard the front door of the inn open behind me and caught sight of Marena’s face. It had lit up like a chandelier.
For some reason, I felt a sinking feeling in my chest.
This instinct was quickly confirmed by her next words, words uttered in the breathy, exhilarated voice of one newly in love. “Hello, Darien.”
5
EVEN IF SHE had not used his name, it was clear from the way Marena was looking at him that they had met before. Indeed, from the pretty blush that suffused her cheeks, I suspected they had done more than that.
It occurred to me to wonder how long Darien had been in Allingcross. It couldn’t have been much more than a week; it was nearly impossible to keep things quiet for that long in a village this size.
That seemed an extraordinarily short amount of time in which to have courted Marena. Then again, I was well acquainted with the swiftly lethal aim of the Ames charm. From the rate he acquired female admirers, it seemed Darien possessed it in spades.
“Mrs. Ames,” he said, his gaze moving from Marena to me. “It’s lovely to see you again so soon.”
“Yes. I…” I tried to think of a reason why I might have come directly to the inn where he was staying. I had even beaten him here from Thornecrest, I realized. He must have stopped off somewhere else.
I couldn’t, of course, say that I had come to the wrong place, hoping to warn Imogen. “I … I was hoping that I could speak with you.”
It was something of a lame excuse, but it was the best I could come up with at the moment. Besides, it wasn’t entirely untrue. Perhaps it would be good for me to talk to him, to determine for myself what his motives might be. He might be less guarded with me than he was sure to be with Milo.
“I’d enjoy nothing more than to speak with you,” he said, the picture of courtesy. “I have luncheon plans with Marena, but perhaps…”
His voice trailed off as the front door of the inn opened again. We turned to see Bertie Phipps entering the lobby. If he had come to renew his suit to Marena, the timing seemed particularly bad.
“Hello,” he said, a bit uncertainly upon spotting all of us standing there. He had changed out of his dirty riding clothes, but he still appeared somewhat rumpled and windblown. I assumed he had ridden his bicycle from Thornecrest, for there was a sheen of sweat across his sun-flushed face.
“Hello,” Marena and I said at the same time. Darien, for his part, had swept his gaze across Bertie and summarily dismissed him, turning back to Marena. Evidently, he had determined that this young man was of no interest to him, and certainly no threat.
I had to admit that a side-by-side comparison of the two men, at this precise moment, was rather in Darien’s favor. While Bertie was a bit taller and broader of shoulder, Darien’s slim elegance was shown to its best with his black suit, which, though not expensive, was impeccably tailored. The dark fabric complemented his coloring, and his eyes, like Milo’s, were very blue beneath sooty lashes.
It would be easy to see how Marena might have been swept off her feet by this young man, especially as she had always been somewhat inclined to romanticism. Bertie Phipps was handsome in a solid, wholesome sort of way, but he hadn’t the Prince Charming appeal that Darien possessed.
“I came to see if you’d go out walking with me, Marena,” Bertie said. “I’ve some sandwiches and apples we might share.”
This caught Darien’s attention. He turned to look at Bertie again as Marena stood motionless behind the desk.
There was a moment of silence. I had the unsettled feeling that something rather dire was happening, and I wished suddenly that I had asked Milo to accompany me. If things took an unpleasant turn, I was not about to throw myself between two brawling gentlemen.
Bertie had brawn on his side, but I thought that Darien would be quick. And there was something else. A hint of something dangerous about him, I realized. A ruthless flash in his blue eyes that told me he was more than capable of doing whatever was required for him to get his way.
It was Marena who found her voice first. “I’m afraid I can’t right now, Bertie. I have other matters to attend to.”
“Oh, come on. Just for a few minutes. Jenny here can watch the desk, can’t you, Jen?”
The girl behind the desk said nothing, her gossip magazine becoming less interesting by the moment.
“I believe the lady has made herself plain,” Darien said.
Bertie’s gaze shifted to Darien. It was, I think, the first time that Bertie had paid him much attention. Until then he had likely thought Darien was merely a patron of the inn. I saw the change in his expression, the frown that flickered across his brow as he realized that Darien was something more.