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Rob, Beatrix and Billy spent the two hours following their visit to Grainger and Holt in a small café close to Exeter cathedral. Establishing themselves in a small booth at the back, they ordered tea, hot buttered toast and three large slices of Victoria sponge cake. Twice.

By the end of the second helping, they’d finally come to the unanimous conclusion that they had to be at the White Hart at nine o’clock that evening. However, since the last train to Paignton left at five o’clock, it necessitated an overnight stay in Exeter.

This, of course, was the sticking point.

Rob wanted Billy to escort Beatrix home, leaving him to speak with the young clerk alone.

Unfortunately, despite it being a perfectly reasonable request, neither Beatrix nor Billy were prepared to do as he asked. After one hour, forty-eight minutes and thirty-three seconds, they finally reached an impasse. Which is to say they were no longer speaking with each other.

Beatrix was staring out of the window, while Billy was busy running his finger round the inside of the jam pot.

Rob, on the other hand, simply stared into the depths of his teacup wondering whether all English people were ridiculously stubborn or simply those connected with a family named Shackleford. After fifteen minutes, he finally accepted that the leaves in the bottom of the cup were unlikely to shed any light on the matter and with an aggrieved sigh said the word, ‘Fine,’ albeit through gritted teeth.

Both companions turned to stare at him. ‘We’ll need to send a telegram to Cliff House,’ Rob declared, ‘but first, we need to find a boarding house with two rooms available.’

Beatrix felt her face grow warm. ‘Do we continue to pretend we’re married?’ She said in a small voice.

‘I don’t think it will help matters if we don’t,’ Rob answered with a sigh.

‘So how will we explain the two rooms?’

Rob finally grinned. ‘Mr and Mrs Noon can hardly be expected to share a room on their very first night in Exeter, what with Mrs Noon’s delicate nerves and Mr Noon’s frightful snoring.’

‘I’m quite certain I would never have married a man with such a dreadful malady,’ Bea argued, a small smile finally lighting her face.

‘Can I ‘ave a room on me own?’ Billy asked, licking the last trace of jam from his fingers. ‘Whenever I stay at ‘ome, me ma reckons I snore like a bloomin trooper…’

‘No.’

Said in concert, even Billy knew to drop the matter.

They settled on a respectable-looking inn near the station, which was able to provide two rooms. Rob immediately arranged for a telegram to be sent to Cliff House, which he addressed to Baron Tavistock, since the general consensus was that Rhys was likely to receive the news much more calmly than Charlotte.

Once that was done, all three went to their bedchambers to freshen up. Or rather, Beatrix and Rob did, while Billy spent the time bemoaning his empty stomach and bouncing up and down on the bed.

By half-past eight that same evening, they were making their way along Fore Street in the gathering dark.

CHAPTER 13

By the time Henry and Charlotte’s carriage rattled back through Cliff House’s gates that evening, Rhys was waiting for them in the drawing room with a telegram in his hand and an expression that made Henry’s stomach drop before a word was spoken.

‘It’s nothing dire,’ Rhys declared hastily, seeing his father-in-law’s face. ‘Or rather, nothing dire, yet, at any rate. It’s from Rob. He held it out. ‘They’re apparently spending the night in Exeter.’

Charlotte, entering the room behind her brother, paused undoing the ribbons on her bonnet. ‘Spending the night,’ she repeated flatly. ‘In Exeter. Together…’

‘At an inn, in separate rooms, and with Billy along as a chaperone,’ Rhys added helpfully with an internal wince. ‘Rob was careful to specify all three particulars.’

‘I have no doubt that this was not Rob’s preferred outcome,’ Henry sighed. ‘Has he said why?’ Rhys handed him the telegram.

‘A meeting with a clerk from Grainger and Holt,’ Henry murmured. ‘Interesting indeed.’

‘Interesting. All you can say is interesting?’ His sibling’s voice rose another octave on the second ‘interesting.’ She finished taking off her bonnet, hanging it on Henry’s marble bust before adding, ‘I’ll give that girl interesting when she gets back under this roof.’

‘She went to Exeter to help find a missing child, Lottie, not to ruin herself with a man she barely knows,’ Henry countered. ‘And may I remind you it was your idea to send Billy along as her chaperone.’

‘Naturally I never expected her to be staying overnight with the blackguard.’ Charlotte swept past him and picked up the brandy decanter. ‘The point is, Henry, that half of Paignton would take a very different view of the matter than you appear to be taking, and reputations, once dented, are not so easily hammered back into shape.’

‘Then it’s fortunate,’ Henry countered, grasping the glass of brandy she shoved under his nose, ‘that half of Paignton is not currently aware she’s in Exeter at all, nor likely to become aware of it provided we all keep our heads and our tongues.’