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Baines glanced at the clock. “I should be in time for breakfast.”
“Then I suggest you make an appearance. An unexplained absence might prove almost as interesting to our adversary as Mallory’s absence.”
Manners smiled. “And do try to look less murderous. Sir Lionel’s guests are accustomed to your agreeable manners.”
By the time Baines returned to Blackthorn, the morning had brightened considerably. A pale sun had emerged from behind the clouds, touching the upper windows with gold and drawing a thin veil of mist from the lawns. The gravel remained damp beneath Lucifer’s hooves, and the horse tossed his head impatiently as Baines dismounted before the stables.
He left Lucifer in the care of a groom and entered the house through the side door, where Simmons appeared almost immediately.
“Good morning, Major.”
“Good morning, Simmons. Has Lord Cranford enquired after his valet?”
“On three occasions, sir.”
“I trust you were able to satisfy him.”
“I informed his lordship that Mallory had been taken ill and would be unable to attend him this morning.”
“How did he receive the news?”
“He wished to know whether the illness was contagious, sir, and whether another servant might be found to brush his brown coat.”
Baines smiled. “Assuredly.”
“I attended him myself.”
“Has anyone else asked after Mallory?”
“Not directly, sir.”
The qualification caught Baines’ attention. “What do you mean?”
“Lady Dunsmore remarked that the servants appeared rather distracted this morning. I assured her it was no more than the usual preparations. She was chiefly concerned with the whereabouts of her spaniels.”
Baines nodded. “Very well. I should prefer that the explanation concerning Mallory remain unchanged.”
“Of course, Major.”
He started towards the morning room, then paused. “Has Miss Finch breakfasted?”
“I could not say, sir.”
Baines looked back at him. “Surely you have seen her this morning?”
“Not since the household began its duties, sir. Miss Finch is frequently occupied before the guests rise.”
That was true enough. Judith had an extraordinary talent for appearing wherever she was needed, often before anyone had thought to summon her.
“Thank you, Simmons.”
The butler inclined his head and withdrew. Baines continued towards the morning room, where he found Sir Lionel presiding over breakfast with his customary enthusiasm.
The table was crowded with silver dishes, fresh bread, preserves, and an assortment of meats which suggested Mrs. Partridge feared the guests might otherwise perish before luncheon. Sunlight fell across the polished furniture and caught the delicate pattern of the curtains, while a cheerful fire burned in the grate.
Lord Cranford stood beside the sideboard, examining a plate of kidneys with evident dissatisfaction. “I cannot understand why a man should choose this particular morning to fall ill,” he complained. “Mallory has never suffered from delicate health before.”
Baines accepted coffee from a footman. So much for keeping Mallory’s absence quiet, he thought with annoyance.