She sighed. “Well, I suppose there’s always Scotland.”

  He frowned. “Scotland?”

  She pulled down a thick tome. “Yes. I had thought to be as far away from London as possible, to avoid the scandal. But many of the people on the first ship with my father were from Scotland, so perhaps I wouldn’t be able to avoid it there, either.”

  The book wobbled in her grip. He heard the tremor in her voice as well. Despite her evident calm, she still feared the future.

  “Perhaps,” he said, “you needn’t go all the way to Scotland for a new life.”

  She clutched the book to her chest and turned to stare at him.

  Again, he had said too much. A hazard where she was concerned. Those big blue eyes, that trusting smile, made confidences easy.

  But he was in no position to offer confidences or anything else.

  “Finn?” she asked, gaze searching his.

  “A lady of your beauty and talents would be welcome anywhere,” he said. Then he started for the door. “Excuse me. I should check the house.”

  As if there was anything more dangerous here to her than his own longings.

  Still, he made a point of taking Lady Belfort aside when she and Fortune returned a short while later.

  “It would appear that I am no longer needed as bodyguard,” he told her as they stood by the hearth in the library. Abigail was dangling a bit of ribbon to Fortune nearby. “Have you heard anything from this Lord Kendall?”

  “No,” she admitted, “but never fear, Finn. I will not leave you stranded. Besides, something tells me things are not as settled as they seem. We may have need of your services yet.”

  Her prediction proved true the very next day.

  Finn had hoped they had weathered enough difficult visits, but Mrs. Bee and her daughters came calling again. At the sound of their shrill voices in the entry hall, Fortune darted up to the chamber story and refused to come down. Tanner and Keller had been in the garden, practicing under Roth’s critical eye. When Finn sent a footman to warn them, they quickly decamped to the cottage. He wouldn’t have been surprised if they had barricaded the door behind them.

  Finn stood along the wall, thinking that might deter any conversation. But even his most military stance, feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back, gaze on the farther wall, did not stop them.

  “And how are you today, Mr. Huber?” the oldest asked politely after all the ladies had greeted each other.

  “Well,” he said.

  “He looks well,” her sister ventured, being so bold as to glance up and down his person.

  “And I trust all of you are well,” Abigail put in as if to draw their attention away from him.

  The mother fanned herself with one hand. “Far too warm for this time of year, I find. Though it is a good excuse to go driving.”

  “Do you drive, Mr. Huber?” the youngest put in.

  “No,” he said.

  “But you must!” she protested while her sister looked down at her hands in her lap. “How else are you to travel about the country with your illustrious patrons?”

  “Mr. Huber isn’t traveling much at the moment,” Lady Belfort said. “Are you planning to travel, Miss Bee?”

  She pouted. “No, worse luck. Unless, of course, I had a husband to follow.”

  He refused to meet her gaze.

  “I’m sure you’ll find a nice Surrey lad to suit you,” Lady Belfort said. “The assembly is just the place. How many more are planned before Christmas?”

  That, at least, kept them talking for a bit. Finn let the noise wash over him, gaze moving from the window, which showed a blue sky with clouds piling up on the horizon, to the open door, which showed an empty landing.

  “Then you intend to stay for some time, Miss Winchester?”

  The youngest daughter’s question brought his attention back to the lady under his protection. Abigail was seated next to Lady Belfort, a wool shawl draped about her muslin gown.

  “As long as Lady Belfort might need me,” she said with a smile to her ladyship.

  “I do not think I could be a companion,” Miss Bee the younger said with a shiver. “Always at the beck and call of another. Always having to be pleasant. Do you have any time to yourself, say to go riding or to come into the village?”

  Was she implying Lady Belfort was a harsh mistress? Both her mother and the lady herself seemed to think so, for they were frowning at her. So was her sister.

  Abigail answered easily enough. “I could not ask for a kinder patroness. I count myself fortunate indeed to have been invited to stay.”

  Lady Belfort’s frown eased, and she reached out to pat Abigail’s hand. “I am the fortunate one to have found you, my dear.”

  Miss Bee the younger clapped her hands. “Oh, how delightful. Then you will not mind if she comes to visit us, say tomorrow morning?”

  Her mother drew herself up. “Do not be ridiculous. Tomorrow morning is entirely inconvenient. And we must not deprive Lady Belfort of her companion.” Seemingly satisfied she had silenced her daughter at last, she turned to Lady Belfort. “I do hope we will have the pleasure of your husband’s company soon.”

  “I hope by Christmas,” she said, smile tight. “And what are your plans for the season?”

  Conversation resumed then, but Miss Angelica Bee continued to watch Abigail, as if searching for any flaw she might exploit. Why? Was she jealous? Abigail was certainly prettier and sweeter natured, but Miss Bee had to know she had little freedom or standing of her own. And why invite her to visit at a specific time? Something more seemed to be brewing behind those sharp blue eyes.

  When the footman brought the tea tray, Finn slipped out to meet Mr. Cowls on the landing.

  “Ask Mr. Keller to ride escort on the ladies when they leave,” he murmured.

  The butler raised a snowy brow. “Do you expect mischief?”

  “I think mischief may be in the making,” Finn explained. “Tell him to wait and see where else they might go after reaching home.”

  The butler nodded, and Finn returned to his place along the wall.

  “These tea cakes are delicious, Lady Belfort,” the youngest daughter was gushing. “You must try some, Mr. Huber.”

  “Yes, Mr. Huber,” her sister added. “Please join us.”

  “Girls,” their mother admonished. “You must not tease him. Leave the man to his duty.”

  Now both daughters pouted.

  It seemed the mother at least had finally realized he and his comrades were not the best matches for her daughters. He was only thankful they ended their visit a short time later. He watched with Abigail from the landing as the butler saw them out. The daughters still squealed in delight when Keller rode up to accompany them.

  Abigail bumped his shoulder. “Why sacrifice Keller to their machinations? Surely you aren’t still worried about the mythical highwaymen.”

  “I am more interested in who else they might meet on the road,” Finn told her.

  She cocked her head. “And who else do you suspect?”

  “Keller will report soon enough,” Finn promised her. “Perhaps you should go tell Fortune it is safe to come down.”

  With a laugh, she lifted her skirts and started up the stairs.

  {♥}

  Keller came back as the sun was setting and asked for a word with Finn. Lady Belfort and Abigail were upstairs changing for dinner, so he stepped out onto the drive with the younger guardsman. The breeze nipped at his cheeks, promising colder days ahead.

  “What did you learn?” Finn asked.

  “Mrs. Bee and her daughters returned to their home a little outside the village,” he reported, rubbing his freshly shaved chin with the back of one hand. “After about a half hour, the two daughters and a maid walked out and down to the linen drapers. I left the horse at the blacksmith’s and followed.”

  “Did they meet anyone?” Finn pressed.

  “Not at first,” Keller qualified. “They seemed determined to examine the fellow’s wares. I have never understood how women can spend so much time shopping. Need a ribbon, find a ribbon, pay for it, go home. Why look over every ribbon in the store?”

  “There is an art to it,” Finn assured him, remembering the times he had accompanied Lady Giselle shopping. “What is the quality of the ribbon? Does it match or compliment the gown? Can it be used to trim more than one? Will it enhance her coloring, draw attention to her eyes? Is there a better bargain to be had here or at another shop?”

  Keller’s brows shot up. “I had no idea the matter was so complicated. That would explain why they stayed for more than an hour. I thought it was only because they were waiting for someone.”

  Finn stilled. “Who?”

  Keller met his gaze. “Mr. Netherfield. They spoke for some time before the ladies left him. The older daughter did not look amused. The younger did most of the talking. I followed Netherfield to the inn, where he appears to be staying.”

  He was supposed to have left for London today. Had he stayed for some other reason? How did he know the Bees?

  And had he found another way to spy on Abigail, through them?

  {♥}

  Finn had been restive all afternoon. Abigail wasn’t sure why. A visit from the Bees was never particularly pleasant, but Meredith seemed compelled to receive them, likely because of their standing in the area. Still, even she pushed her prawns about her plate that night, and Finn did not appear interested in any of the choice food.

  Abigail glanced between the two thoughtful faces. Below the table, Fortune bumped her leg, as if encouraging her to speak.

  “Is something wrong?” Abigail ventured.

  Meredith set down her fork. “In all the bustle, I forgot to tell you. My Julian wrote at last.”

  “Oh, marvelous!” Abigail exclaimed even as Finn perked up. “That is, assuming he is well and safe.”

  “At the moment,” she said. “But he writes that they have been plagued by mishaps, and he begins to suspect not all were accidents. He is concerned the enemies of Batavaria may be trying to hinder the ratification of the agreement.”

  Finn’s face hardened. “Then the spy may have been after us all along.”

  Part of her was relieved not to be the cause of more distress, yet the injustice of having Finn spied upon rankled. Like her, the four Imperial Guards found themselves embroiled in trouble not of their making.

  “Very possible,” Meredith said. “Although it is also possible the fellow had something to do with Abigail’s father and the Poyais scandal.”

  The candlelight seemed to dim.

  “Or Preston Netherfield,” Finn said. “I find myself glad that you threw him out.”

  “Actually, you threw him out,” Abigail reminded him. “I just asked him to leave.”

  Finn shoved back his plate, and the footman came to remove it. “It appears he has not left. He met with the two Misses Bee today in Weyton.”

  Abigail frowned. So did Meredith.

  “How do you know?” her patroness asked.

  “I asked Keller to watch them.” He sounded completely unrepentant about the matter.

  “I never knew where he was staying,” Abigail mused. “Could he be acquainted with the Bees?”

  “If they had known you had acquaintances in common, they would have been swift to claim it,” he pointed out. “Beginning with the night of the assembly. Besides, Keller says they met at the linen drapers. They would not have had to resort to such subterfuge if he had been staying with them.”

  “True,” Abigail allowed. She rubbed her hands on her napkin. “And I’m surprised he would choose to linger in any regard. His stated reason for being in Weyton was to importune me to return with him. Failing that, why remain?”

  “Perhaps he hopes to persuade you yet,” Finn said, watching her.

  Abigail dropped the napkin. “Well, he hopes in vain.”

  He raised a brow. “You are certain?”

  “Absolutely! He cannot hold a candle…” She stopped and drew in a breath before the truth spilled out. Now Meredith raised a brow as well.

  “He cannot hold my affections,” Abigail finished. “But if you are concerned that he remains in Weyton, perhaps we should discover his reasoning.”

  He shook his head. “There is no we. I am your bodyguard. It is my duty to protect you.”

  Abigail shook her head at his vehemence. “Preston knows about the scandal. It is the very reason he broke things off. He has no reason to wish me harm. I say we beard the lion in his den and order him to move along.”

  “I say we allow Finn to beard the lion,” Meredith countered, “while we take on the lioness and her cubs. I would be very interested to hear how Mrs. Bee’s daughters came to the attention of Mr. Netherfield.

  Finn’s jaw tightened. “Take Keller with you, then.”

  Meredith tsked. “Taking any of you with us will only force Miss Bee the younger to continue her flirting.”

  “We need her to talk about more important matters,” Abigail agreed. “I’m not concerned about them, Finn. I am quite immune to their feeble stings after what happened with my father. And any true villain would surely be sure to give Mrs. Bee wide berth.”

  He inclined his head. Surrendering, for now.

  He seemed no more pleased with the matter the next morning, but he accompanied them inside the coach into the village. A few ladies were out, shopping baskets over their arms and shawls tucked close against the biting breeze. Leaves swirled down the cobblestones to dance against the white cottages. Meredith’s coachman let him off at the inn.

  “You will be careful,” he ordered, hand on the door.

  “Always,” Meredith assured him.

  With a last frown, he shut the door and stepped back.

  He was protecting her. It was his duty.

  But suddenly Abigail wanted more, as dangerous as that might be. The words he used, the touch of his hand, the warmth in his eyes, promised her that he saw her as more than just a duty. Her very presence seemed to encourage him to take chances, to trust again.

  Could she help him see her as a wife?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Finn strode through the inn yard, trying hard not to look back more than once. He could not like leaving Abigail, but he had to trust she could take care of herself in this situation. Surely she and Lady Belfort were a match for the Bees. He needed to run Preston Netherfield to ground.

  “Ah, one of our Imperial Guards,” the innkeeper heralded as Finn ducked into the inn. “How might I help you, good sir?”

  Finn glanced around the room. No customers were in evidence. Nevertheless, he leaned on the scarred counter. “I seek one of your guests. Mr. Netherfield, of London.”

  “Popular fellow,” he said, leaning on the counter as well. “You’re the second to come seeking him today.”

  Finn did not let his interest show. “And who else would that be?”

  “Another stranger,” he supplied with a shrug. “Not that you and your friends are strangers any longer. Weyton’s own army, eh?” He chuckled at the idea.

  Finn allowed himself a smile. “Why would two strangers come to Weyton?”

  “Mr. Netherfield claimed he had acquaintances in the area, though none came here to join him,” he volunteered. “The other fellow has wandered in for a pint now and again over the last fortnight, but he isn’t staying with us.” He shook his head at such foolishness.

  “Short older fellow,” Finn guessed, “eyes perhaps too small for his face.”

  The innkeeper slapped his hand down on the counter. “The very one. Friend of yours?”

  “No,” Finn assured him. “Did you get their direction?”

  “They left an hour ago, and I haven’t seen them since. Shall I take a message?” His eyes were bright with anticipation.

  “I’ll find Netherfield myself,” Finn said. “But thank you.”

  Outside, he hesitated. The village wasn’t large, but he could hardly go door to door, demanding to know if Preston Netherfield and a squinty-eyed man had come to call.

  Abigail’s former beau had won this hand, but Finn would not give up the game until he knew she was safe.

  {♥}

  The family Bee lived just beyond the village, in a fine building of creamy stone with an impressive pediment over the door. However, the drive was lined with black marble urns as tall as a horse, and banners flew from every window, as if a king had come to visit. Inside, each wall was covered with massive paintings framed in gilt, until she could not be sure of the wallpaper, and every piece of furniture was gilded or tasseled or both.

  “Lady Belfort!” Mrs. Bee cried, coming down the curving rosewood stair with one hand held out in entreaty. Her youngest daughter followed at a similar rapid clip, descending on them in the marble-tiled entry hall. The older Miss Bee came more slowly, smile pleased and gaze curious. The cloud of rose-scented perfume was so thick Abigail could almost see it.

  “I do believe this is the first time you have visited,” Mrs. Bee said, smiling like a cat in the cream. She led them to a withdrawing room off the entry hall. “You must make yourself at home.”

  That would have been impossible. The room was long and high, but every inch was filled with sofas, credenzas, and more of the urns, these gold. The black-lacquered pianoforte huddled in the corner as if trying to defend itself from the clutter.

  In the end, Meredith took possession of one of the sofas, Mrs. Bee took possession of Meredith, and Abigail managed to find a chair nearby before the daughters did. They elected to sit on a flanking sofa.

  “Forgive the sudden intrusion,” Meredith said. “But I recently learned we have an acquaintance in common.”

  Mrs. Bee patted her curls. “I cannot be shocked. Good people generally know other good people, I find.”

  Meredith’s smile was tight. “Precisely. Which is why I was surprised to learn that you know Preston Netherfield.”

  Mrs. Bee frowned. Her older daughter, however, paled and sent her sister a look.