Picking up his coat, Ethan crossed to the door. “Do not, under any circumstances, leave her alone. Is that understood?”
The footman nodded, expression solemn.
Ethan looked at Francesca. “I’ll check on you later, Miss Dashing.”
She fluffed the rabbit’s straw again but didn’t meet his eyes. “Lord Winterbourne?” she said in a quiet voice. “Would you take Lino back to the stable for me? Give him to Alfred.”
Ethan had the dog in his arms and was halfway to the stable before he realized she’d done it again. Given him an order. Him! A marquess who didn’t take orders from anyone save royalty, and he’d even ignored a few of those. And here he was, rushing to obey a petite country girl from Hampshire.
He met Shepherd at the stable, pleased to see the coachman exercising Destrehan.
“Would you like to talk to some of the grooms now?” Shepherd asked.
Ethan looked back at the coachman. “Lead the way.” He could use an hour or so away from Francesca. Maybe by then her enchantment would have worn off.
Fifteen
Several hours later, after a glass of port with Brigham, Ethan climbed the stairs to his bedchamber, no further in his investigation than before. He’d set up a makeshift office in the tack house to conduct his interviews because the building had a window looking out at the hospital. From that vantage, he’d been able to keep an eye on Francesca’s movements as well as Peter, who had stood guard on the hospital’s stoop.
The servants he’d interviewed had attempted to help, but none of the information proved useful in narrowing Ethan’s search for Francesca’s attacker.
He rolled his shoulders, dreading the long hours of interviewing before him the next day. Interviews that, if the house servants were anything like those who toiled outside, would be full of Francesca’s good deeds. He’d begun to think the girl should be canonized. For some reason, the staff’s adoration annoyed him. He felt—Ethan frowned—unworthy.
Ridiculous. He’d never been unsure of himself before.
Ethan gritted his teeth at the stab of insecurity.
At least he wasn’t the only who’d one fallen prey her charms. Even her father had capitulated, stating that he would pay Ethan so Francesca could keep Skerrit’s horse.
Now, at the top of the steps to the family’s private chambers, Ethan spotted the two saucers of azure eyes blinking at him through the crack of one of the doors in the female wing.
He slowed. Francesca’s chamber was just down the hallway, and he remembered that her sister’s room was closer to the stairs.
He glanced back at the door, taking in the girl’s poorly veiled attempts at spying.
“Are you in training for a career in the Foreign Office?” He paused in front of his door. “Seen anything I should know about?”
