Detective Sergeant James Hathaway shakes his head slightly in disbelief. He will never understand how his superior officer, Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis, can drink hot coffee on a warm summer morning. Not just one cup, either, Lewis is nearly done with his second cup already. The older man, sensing that he is being watched, looks up.

"What?"

"Just wondering if you noticed the temperature this morning. You seem to be enjoying your nice, hot coffee."

Lewis rolls his eyes. "I like coffee, alright? Anyway, drinking something hot drives your blood to your skin where it can cool better."

Hathaway's lip curls slightly, amused. "Okay, Doctor Science, then how does it cool when you're wearing a suit?"

"It's a summer suit! It's lightweight and all." He wants to further justify himself, but knows nothing will erase the smirk from Hathaway's face. He shuts his mouth, shakes his head, and turns back to his work, refusing to let himself be drawn further into the wind-up.

But Hathaway won't let go so easily. "No, come on, admit it. You know nothing about how the human body thermoregulates, do you? You're just making up the thing about drinking hot liquids. Or else repeating something your gran told you."

He gets a glare.

Nonetheless, Lewis continues to resist James's teasing, despite the younger man's comments throughout most of the morning that touch on hot coffee, lightweight suits, and cooling off by going out to have a cigarette. And he ignores the "urban legend" website links Hathaway sends him via email.

Just before noon, Hathaway pushes back from his desk in a decisive motion that gets Lewis's attention. He takes a breath and drops his eyes.

"Sir, I'm, erm, sorry if I was a bit of a prat this morning."

Lewis says nothing. It's clear this is leading to something.

James continues. "I'm taking Doctor Hobson out to lunch today and I'll, erm, buy your lunch too, if you want to come along. By way of apologizing."

The inspector smiles a little. Hathaway always feels badly when he's been rude for no good reason, and generally he finds one way or another to make it up to Lewis, something Lewis appreciates. One reason they get along so well is that each of them can usually manage to admit it when he's been wrong.

"Ah, that'd be very nice, Sergeant. What's the occasion for treating Hobson to lunch?"

"I lost a bet."

Lewis snorts. "Have you ever won a bet against her?"

"Not. Yet."

This makes Lewis smile very broadly.

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The White Horse is not too crowded and the three have a pleasant lunch. When Hathaway gets up to settle the bill, Lewis leans over to Doctor Hobson. He keeps his voice low.

"Will you be around tonight, Laura? I mean, at home?"

"I expect to be. What's up?"

"I'd, erm, like to speak with you about something kind of important. Face-to-face." She frowns a little at the mystery, but Lewis sees Hathaway heading back to the table and he rushes to end the conversation. "I'll buzz you tonight, okay?" He winks.

"Sure. I'm intrigued." She smiles.

He says nothing more, but his eyes are twinkling. Hathaway looks from one to the other, curious, but no one volunteers any information and he knows it's none of his business. He also knows he'll be able to work it out of Lewis eventually.

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As soon as they return from lunch, Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent is at their office door. She is in an obvious state of anxiety.

"You two are needed, immediately. Lady Monteith has gone missing, and I don't need to tell you this is very high profile."

This draws a frown from the inspector. "Missing person? That's not our usual thing, Ma'am."

She rolls her eyes in impatience. "I know that, Lewis. But this isn't an ordinary citizen who might be off on a lark. Lady Monteith is a highly respected member of this city, and a personal friend of mine. I want my best detectives on her case."

She checks their expressions for further protest and, finding none, hands over the slim file that has already been collected. "Please be on your best behavior, Lewis. Remember these people are not like you." And she leaves.

Hathaway glances to see if Lewis will comment on her last admonition but all the inspector does is shake his head and scowl. They check through the file and agree that the logical starting place is Sherston Manor, the Monteith's home. According to the file, her husband called the police after she went missing all night. He had last seen her, the report said, around noon yesterday when he left to see his financial advisor in London.

The house is of red brick with numerous chimneys and well-kept grounds. James pulls the car to a stop on the circular drive in front of the steps.

"How do you want to do this, Sir?"

"Let's do above-stairs together and then split up for below-stairs." Lewis is well aware that he has a tendency to give titled people the impression that he does not properly respect their lofty station in life. It is not unusual for Innocent to get a call about his behavior, a complaint that he overstepped the unwritten boundary dividing a working-class Geordie from his social betters. He had made a vow to himself to not ruffle any more upper-class feathers than necessary. Or at least, to try to do better in that department.

They learn very little from Lord Monteith. He tells them he had no reason to think she disappeared intentionally, and he could find no evidence of foul play. But late in the morning, a letter arrived by courier, who could not, or would not, explain its origins. Monteith shows them the letter. It is handwritten in a flowing script and addressed to His Lordship.

"That's her handwriting, or else a very good imitation of it." The letter informs him she is in love with another man and that by the time Monteith reads the letter, she and her lover will be out of the country.

Hathaway can see that the letter saddens Lewis a great deal. He leads with the questions, giving his boss a little time to come to terms with the marital infidelity. "My Lord, did you have any idea that she was having an affair?"

The man stares at Hathaway piercingly. "Young man, this letter is clearly a fake. My wife did not leave the country with some other man." Anger bubbles just below the surface.

Lewis senses the conviction in the man's tone. "M'Lord, how do you know it's a fake?"

"She didn't take her passport. It's still in the safe. And she didn't take her medication. She couldn't have left the country."

They are not convinced that these indicators would completely preclude her leaving the country, but they make all the right sympathetic sounds and soon are done asking Lord Monteith any more questions. His Lordship's younger brother and wife are also present, and they contribute even less. Lewis is relieved to be done interviewing the family. Hathaway heads out to question the driver, estate manager, groundskeeper, and other outdoor staff while Lewis questions the domestic staff.

The butler has gathered the domestic servants together, and Lewis is careful to interview them in rank order. He has, to his chagrin, received complaints in the past about his impropriety in dealing with household staff. He is determined to avoid that this time.

After the butler and the housekeeper, he questions the lady's maid, Elsie, leading her into the study where he has questioned the others in private. He gets through the basic set of interrogatories with little new information. Lady Monteith is a delightful, down to earth woman. She delights in comfort and friendliness. Everyone in the area loves her.

"She likes nothing more than to go to the Ugly Duckling for a pint and a chat with all her friends."

A thought flashes through Lewis's mind that this sounds like one upper class woman he might actually enjoy meeting. If only he could meet her, and resolve this case.

"Anything else you think we should know, Elsie? Anything you tell me will be treated with the utmost confidence."

She drops her eyes. "Well, Sir, I do think she's having an affair."

This has his immediate attention.

"What makes you say that? Did she tell you?"

"Oh, no, Sir, she's never said a word. But I collect her soiled clothing, see? And sometimes her undergarments seem to have a lot of . . . discharge. As though she had had sex. And she disappears from the house sometimes with no explanation for hours at a time."

"Does she usually tell you about all her movements?"

"Well, no."

"So her going out without telling you is not that unusual."

"No, Sir."

"Does she ever stay out overnight?"

"No, never."

"And you don't know that this . . . 'discharge' in her knickers came from a man."

"No, I don't."

Lewis conceals his inner sigh. A highly-charged imagination sounds to him to be the most likely explanation. "Do you have any idea who her lover might be?"

The maid's face lights up. "Oh, yes! It's Lord Hungerford."

Lewis contains his skepticism. "Why him?"

"The Hungerfords were here for a party not very long ago. When he was with Milady, it was obvious there was something between them. A real spark. Neither His Lordship nor Lady Hungerford were in the room. Just the two of them and a few acquaintances."

"Wouldn't His Lordship know if his own wife was having an affair?"

"Oh, well, she can be very discreet. And His Lordship is gone a lot. And they never met here, so they must have been together at Lord Hungerford's house."

Lewis considers this information. "Okay, thank you for being so honest with me. Anything else?"

There isn't anything else, and in another couple of hours, he and Hathaway are sitting at a table in the garden of the Ugly Duckling, working on making a couple of pints disappear rather quickly in the summer heat and comparing notes.

Lewis does a lot of eye-rolling at the pretentiousness and rigidity of the household. Hathaway knows that at least half of it is done for his amusement, and it makes him chuckle.

"So, were the domestic staff knowledgeable in Her Ladyship's steamy secrets?"

The inspector snorts at this. "No. Some speculating, rumors, and innuendo. Nothing concrete that we can actually pursue. How about you?"

"Well, Winston the driver took her into the city around two o'clock. She was checking up on a painting they are having restored. So he dropped her at—" he consults his notes—"'Oxford Fine Art Gallery' and she told him not to wait, that she would walk home."

"Walk? It must be five mile at least."

"Apparently, she's a great one for walking and this was not unusual." He twists a smile. "And that's it, really. It looks like Winston was the last one of the household to see her."

"Alright, then. Next stop, Oxford Fine Art Gallery."

"Well, Sir, they're closed now, according to their website. They close at six." Hathaway is staring at the screen of his mobile.

"Oh. Well, why don't we ask around here? If her maid is to be believed, this was Her Ladyship's local."

Hathaway blinks. "Her Ladyship has a local?"

"It's what I'm told."

They go in to chat up the landlord. He agrees with the maid's assessment that Lady Monteith is down-to-earth and very friendly.

"Real easy to like, you know? She comes in a lot." He leans forward, conspiratorially. "If you ask me, she's lonely. Lord Monteith is away a great deal. A cold character."

Lewis looks surprised. "D'you think maybe she's seeing someone?"

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me if she is. She isn't glamorous, but she's a natural beauty. Know what I mean?"

"But you've never seen her with anyone in particular, or heard her say anything?"

"No, no. She wouldn't be that indiscreet, anyway. She always remembers her role in the community." He considers a moment. "I hope you find her. It would be a real shame if something happened to her. I can't imagine what's become of her. Can't imagine she would have abandoned her husband."

"When did you last see her?"

The landlord thinks for a while. "She was here yesterday, late afternoon, early evening. I didn't serve her, but I remember her bringing back her glass so we wouldn't have to collect it. That's the kind of person she is. She doesn't mind clearing up after herself."

"Do you know if she has any enemies? Anyone resent her or is anyone jealous of her?"

The landlord looks as though he thinks Lewis is from a foreign country. It takes him a moment to answer, he is that stunned.

"Absolutely not. Everyone I know loves her."

They thank him for his help and cooperation and take their pints outside. Sitting and finishing the very good beer, the two men are thoroughly enjoying the summer-warm, early evening. Lewis nods toward a great, stone house they can see from where they are sitting.

"Nice place."

"Yeah, Hungerford House." Hathaway begins to recite the entire history of the place when Lewis recovers and interrupts.

"Hungerford House? As in, Lord Hungerford? Why didn't you say?"

Hathaway scowls at what he perceives to be a non sequitur. "Um, yeah. Lord and Lady Hungerford." He assesses Lewis's expression. "What?"

"According to the maid, Elsie, Lord Hungerford is Lady Monteith's boyfriend. And here's his house, a stone's throw away from where she was last seen, traveling on foot."

"Why didn't you tell me she said that?"

"I thought it was a flight of fancy on her part. She didn't have any real evidence they were in a relationship. And she struck me as being rather overly romantic. But given how close the house is, I think it's worth pursuing, don't you?"

They decide to walk to the house after Hathaway informs Lewis that the drive is "just there."

"How do you know so much about this house, anyway?"

"It's in all the guidebooks, Sir."

Lewis snorts. "The only interest I have in these fancy houses is that their inhabitants abide by the law, alright?" He snorts again. "Guidebooks."

Walking up the drive gives them some time to suck on a couple of breath mints that Hathaway produces. That and a cigarette effectively erase the hint of beer from James's breath. Lewis has a second mint.