Memoirs of a Hoyden by Joan Smith

traitor. The question is, how do we set about proving it? Ronald has searched his bedchamber, with no success. What we must do is get into his study this evening after he retires.”
    “I still don’t believe it, but as the spies were headed in this direction, and as there’s no one else at the F.O. living near here, I must complete my investigation. Alone,” he added, with a commanding stare.
    “It might be best if we work independently,” I agreed. “They say two heads are better than one, and I daresay that means the two heads aren’t stuck together, like the shepherdess and her shepherd there.” I looked toward the corner as I spoke, and noticed that the two heads were, in fact, not together at all. Alfred’s was stuck in the Sheepbreeders’ Monthly, while Miss Longville’s was turned in our direction, looking as if she would like to join us.
    “Alfred won’t win her, carrying on in that fashion,” Kestrel said.
    “Is he a suitor?”
    “Sir Herbert favors him—rather too strongly, in my opinion. He’s given his consent, without Nel’s approval. That’s bound to create mischief.’’
    “Why did he do such a thing?”
    “She has a handsome young wastrel in her eye. A local fellow named Bernard Kemp. If it weren’t for some good connections on his mother’s side, he wouldn’t be allowed into respectable houses. He’s run through his own fortune and is looking about for another one to marry. Miss Longville is extremely eligible. That is why her father takes her to London.”
    “And Mr. Harcourt?”
    “Likewise. Their farms march together. It would be an excellent match so far as real estate goes.”
    “Good God, I never heard anything so gothic in my life!”
    A satirical eyebrow lifted in my direction. “It’s by no means unusual. I made sure you would have a string of eastern customs to top it. Brides bartered for camels . . .” A quizzing smile egged me on to make a fool of myself again.
    I was still embarrassed about my tirade over dinner, especially after mentally chastising Ronald for the same thing. “I was merely trying to find something other than sheep to discuss at dinner. I daresay I ran on longer than anyone enjoyed.”
    Kestrel was well-bred enough to apologize for his jibes. “I, for one, enjoyed it, my behavior to the contrary. Any little shots of irony were mere ill humor at discovering you had worked your way in here against my wishes. Or perhaps it was your mistaking me for Nel’s father that got my feathers ruffled. I come to see you are a lady who doesn’t take anything sitting down. We have that in common, you know,” he warned, with a gleam of amusement darting out from beneath his drooping eyelids.
    “Then it seems we are at an impasse. You don’t want my assistance; I have every intention of forcing it on you. One of us immovable objects of stubbornness should be watching for the arrival of the spies. Sir Herbert cannot have met with them yet. Unless— Good gracious. Kestrel, he could be meeting with them right now while we stand here twiddling our thumbs!”
    He shook his head, peering toward the door. “No one’s entered his study. I’ve kept an eye peeled. Why do you think we’re standing uncomfortably behind a sofa, instead of sitting on it?”
    “The spies might have been in there waiting for him. Or there could be a secret passage. This isn’t good enough. You must go and investigate. Pretend you want to talk to him.”
    “I? I’m honored that you place the duty on my shoulders.”
    “It would seem more natural coming from you.”
    “Very true; I know the difference between a ram and a ewe. I’ll go and cadge a drink from him.”
    He walked off, and I lent an ear to the lovers in the corner. Alfred’s wheedling voice was low, but audible. “Why not, Nel?” he begged. “You know your papa will make you have me in the end. I’ve put a new carpet in the saloon—blue, just as you like.”
    “Papa needs me,” she replied firmly. “While he