He got another fleeting glance. "By taking me along so I can help question the stable masters?"
"And anyone else you can think of."
"Hmm." She sounded mollified, although he couldn't think why.
Who had invented poke bonnets? Any reasonably tall gentleman had the devil of a time seeing a lady's face when she was sitting or standing next to him wearing one.
He glanced at her again. She was surveying the fields and hedgerows, transparently enjoying the outing. He doubted Cedric or Basil, much less Grisby, had thought to squire her about, to woo her. More fool they.
His thoughts returned to the previous evening. Damn Jocasta Smollet. She'd interrupted at precisely the wrong moment. Jocasta clearly harbored some deep antipathy toward Phyllida, although no one, not even Basil, seemed to know why. But Jocasta had achieved what she'd wanted. She'd clung to his side for the rest of the evening; he'd lost sight of Phyllida when the crowd had invaded the terrace.
He'd seen her briefly in the hall as they'd all prepared to depart; she'd given no indication of having any burning information to convey to him.
He hadn't imagined that moment on the terrace. She'd been about to entrust him with the truth. Something had happened to change her mind, yet she hadn't retreated from trusting him. He tried to imagine what could hold enough power to prevent a woman like her from doing something he was increasingly sure she felt she should. She wanted to tell him, but… What was it that had stopped her?
The question went round and round in his mind but found no ready answer.
Chard appeared before them. They'd driven straight through Axminster and made for the larger town.
Phyllida straightened as they passed the first houses. "There's three stables here. Perhaps we should start at the one furthest north?"
They did. No gentleman had hired a horse on the Saturday or Sunday in question. No unknown gentleman had stayed at the inn. They drove back into the town. The other two stables were off the main street. After receiving negative answers at the Blue Dragon, they left the curricle there, the blacks resting, and strolled to the Black Swan.
"Nah!" The innkeeper shook his head. "We got two nags, but there's rarely much call for 'em. Later in summer, p'r'aps, but right now we haven't hired a horse to any gen'leman for months."
In answer to their second question, he opened his eyes wide. "Ain't seen any gen'leman-nought but the locals-not for weeks."
As they stepped outside, Phyllida murmured, "We don't get many visitors down here."
"Which means any visitor would have been noted." Taking her arm, Lucifer turned her toward the Dragon. "I think we can conclude no visitor used Chard as a base."
They strolled along; Phyllida halted when they reached the Dragon. "This hasn't taken us long. If we drive back and check at Axminster, and then drive down to Axmouth and check there, then if no one's seen any unknown gentleman about… well, it really leaves few options."
"Honiton, perhaps."
"Perhaps. But why would anyone come from that direction?"
"I understand the tendency to imagine any nefarious wrongdoers essay forth from London. That isn't, however, necessarily true."
"Is it likely the person who killed Horatio came from Honiton or Exeter-from somewhere to the west?"
Lucifer fell silent. Phyllida watched him. "Well?"
He refocused. "I was trying to recall if any collectors, or anyone connected with collecting, lived out that way."
"And?"
"I'd have to agree that if the murderer rode in from beyond the village last Sunday, then they probably came from the east. Nevertheless, we'll need to check Honiton, but we can do that some other day." Looking up, he saw a dapper little man hurrying across the street, flourishing a piece of paper to attract their attention. "Who's this?"
Phyllida turned. "Mr. Curtiss-he's the merchant the Colyton Import Company deals with."
Mr. Curtiss reached them; he nodded politely to Lucifer, then beamed at Phyllida. "Miss Tallent-well met! I wanted to send this"-he held out a letter-"to Mr. Filing. My customers have been very pleased with the quality of goods Mr. Filing's company provides. So rare to find quality one can rely on. I've decided to increase our order. With word getting around, I'm sure I can sell more. If I could presume-I know you assist Mr. Filing-could you see this missive reaches him?"
Smiling serenely, Phyllida took the letter. "Of course, Mr. Filing will be thrilled." She tucked the letter into her reticule.
Mr. Curtiss bowed. "A pleasure, my dear. Do convey my best wishes to Sir Jasper."
"I will, indeed."