Adriana and Dickie nodded. Nicholas opened the door, stepped out, and closed it, then made his way to the reception desk.
It was just after midday, and Quilley was there, going over his accounts. When Nicholas explained that he’d thought he’d seen an acquaintance who might be staying at the inn, the innkeeper was entirely willing to allow him to scan the register.
Sure enough, the name of Lord Phillip Sommerville was scrawled in the book, indicating he’d been residing at the inn for the past nine days.
Nicholas tapped the entry with obvious satisfaction. “I was right. I take it Sommerville is still here?”
“Yes, indeed, sir,” Quilley replied. “He often stays for weeks at a time, or at least, he has over the past year. Not quite so much before that.” Quilley caught Nicholas’s eye. “Very friendly with Mrs. Styles, he is. He spends most of his days at Styles Place.”
“I see. But he returns here at night?”
Quilley nodded. “Oh yes. Every night. He usually comes in just after ten o’clock.”
“Excellent.” Nicholas closed the register. “If you happen to see him before then, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention I’d been asking after him. I hope to surprise him when he comes in.”
Quilley smiled. “Of course, sir. Will you and your company be wanting your luncheon, then? I can have the girls bring it through.”
Nicholas agreed and returned to the parlor.
He was greeted with wide eyes and expectant looks. After closing the door, he related what he’d learned.
Dickie looked distinctly bellicose. “Why do we have to wait until tonight? Ten o’clock, no less. Why not go over and storm Styles Place right now?” He paused, then amended, “Or at least after luncheon.”
“Because,” Nicholas patiently explained, “we don’t know what part your half brother plays in this. We don’t know why he took the horse, and we don’t know what part, if any, Mrs. Styles plays, either. The smart way to proceed is to allow your half brother to come to us and learn his role in this directly from him. The Barbarian is safe and well for the moment.” He glanced at Rory, Young Gillies, Jed, and Mike. “That said, it won’t hurt for us to keep a watch on Styles Place to make sure the beast isn’t moved elsewhere.”
Addie humphed. “Given what we’ve gone through to find him, I second that.”
She listened as Nicholas arranged with Rory, Young Gillies, Jed, and Mike that they would take their luncheon in the taproom, then divide up the watch on Styles Place through the afternoon and into the evening.
Nicholas instructed, “You can come back for dinner. If Sommerville is going to dine with Mrs. Styles, he won’t be moving the horse then.”
The four agreed and departed for the taproom as two serving girls arrived bearing platters of cold meats, cheeses, and bread, and jugs of ale and cider.
Addie settled with Nicholas and Dickie about the table. While they ate, she considered the implications of what they’d learned. Eventually, she said, “Obviously, Phillip took The Barbarian from his paddock at the Grange. Although he hasn’t visited for years, he grew up at the Grange and would know all the byways about the estate and in the area very well.”
Dickie grunted. “He knew we would follow, so he went by a roundabout route, heading first toward Grantham, then around past the Lincoln Road.”
Nibbling on a piece of cheese, Addie nodded. “He deliberately laid a false trail, but what I still can’t fathom is how he knew The Barbarian was at the Grange.” She met Dickie’s eyes, then looked at Nicholas. “I’m absolutely certain no one on the estate would have told him. No one there is in his pocket.”
Nicholas studied her for a moment, then asked, “How can you be so sure of that?”
She inwardly sighed and tipped her head Dickie’s way. “Dickie labeled him ‘Pompous Phil.’ Phillip is that and more. He’s an arrogant prig, officious, sanctimonious, and often contemptuous and not only to members of the family. He’s standoffish and looks down his nose at everyone, as if he’s better and somehow more worthy than anyone else. He’s perennially starchy, stuck-up, and top-lofty to an extreme degree. At his best, he’s chillingly polite.” She met Nicholas’s gaze. “None of the staff like him, and I will eat Miss Flibbertigibbet’s most frippery bonnet if anyone on the estate is in league with him.”
Nicholas exhaled. “I see.” After a moment apparently spent considering the word picture she’d painted, he inclined his head. “That’s quite a character reference.”
“Indeed,” she replied. “And it leaves us with the unanswered question of how Phillip learned The Barbarian was at the Grange.”
“And our next question,” Dickie put in, “is what the devil he thinks he’s going to do with the horse.”
Nicholas frowned. “Given he came prepared to lead The Barbarian, presumably, he knows the horse can’t readily be ridden.”
“Even more to the point”—Addie pushed away her plate—“is why he’s simply keeping the horse here.” She looked from Dickie to Nicholas. “It seems he’s had The Barbarian at Styles Place for almost a week. Why?” She spread her hands. “Why steal a horse, then just keep him in a stable for six days?”
They pondered the point, but none of them could think of an answer.
Addie sighed, then looked somewhat bleakly at Nicholas. “So we have an entire afternoon to just sit and wait?”
He met her eyes, and his lips twitched. “Sadly, that’s correct. Wait, have dinner, then wait some more. Until ten o’clock.”
