“Well, actually…”
“I knew it.” Lady Jocelyn tapped him on the chest. “Don’t ever try and keep secrets from me, Reid Chillendale. I’m way to good at reading you. Remember you are my child. The fruit of my loins.”
“Mama,please…” Embarrassed as hell now, Reid tried to back away.
“Very well. You may go and find your Widow Eldridge. But I shall want a full accounting, young man. Do not think you’re getting away with anything.” She turned away, only to spy Brent as he spoke with the Southwicks.
Reid hoped she wouldn’t interrogate the poor chap as intensely as she had her son. And yet he hadn’t really told her anything. She hadn’t given him chance, which was a good thing, overall.
He turned back to the ale table, hoping to find Prudence there. And indeed she was, surrounded by half a dozen farmers, holding them in admiring thrall as she told a story about a farmer, his prize pig and the squire who loved bacon.
Reid neared and heard her assume accents and country dialects, and within moments all the men were roaring with laughter as she reached the end of her tale. They moved aside as Reid walked up.
“A fine story, I would guess.” He smiled at her and looked around at the others.
“Indeed it were, Mr. Reid,” said one of the farmers. “And the lady tells it with great style.”
A chorus of agreement and nods greeted that statement.
“Then I suggest we give a Christmas toast to Lady Eldridge and the Squire’s Pig.”
Everyone raised their tankards and the toast was given with much enthusiasm.
“I thank you, gentlemen.” Pru curtseyed. “And I am pleased you enjoyed the tale. But now I fear I must repeat it for Mr. Chillendale who missed the whole thing, so I beg your forgiveness for leaving you here at a table with onlyhalfa cask of the finest ale in the country…” She grinned. “There’s still time to finish it…”
Another cheer broke out and Reid eased her away from the crowd.
“Nicely done, Lady Eldridge.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chillendale. ‘T’was an old tale I heard when I was a very small girl. Probably not meant for ears such as mine, but as you saw, there’s always a place for a good story well told.”
“Indeed.” Reid guided her across the room to the food table, where there were already several empty serving trays. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He picked up a clean plate and selected a few delicacies.
“Very much. ‘T’is unlike anything I’ve experienced before.” She looked around. “The children seem to be having a wonderful evening.”
“They do. We all try to make it special, just for them. There will be church services, and other Christmas activities going on over the next fortnight, but this one? It’s built around the little ones.” He leaned over, ostensibly to reach a tray of mince pies, but ended close to her ear. “The festivities for the adults come later.”
She tilted her head as he held out the plate, offering her a choice of treats. “And when is later, Mr. Chillendale?” Her voice was a low whisper. “I find myself in a very festive mood.”
“Well, Lady Eldridge. If you’re returning to the Inn immediately, I’m not sure how to answer that question.” Reid surreptitiously grazed her body with his thigh as he moved them around the table.
“I believe I am allowed to be out late, sir.” She flashed him an amused glance. “There is no one to comment on my comings or goings…”
“Then I shall take great pleasure in observing your comings, Ma’am.”
“You might have to assist me in that matter, sir.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“And mine.”
Reid’s breeches were far too tight, he realized. Also his mother was still in the hall and she was too sharp-eyed by half. So he backed away a little and took a mouthful of the legendary lemon tart he’d carefully picked for himself.
It was as good as ever, and he gave a slight sound of delight as he licked a crumb from his lip.
Then he saw Prudence’s eyes watching his tongue. Her cheeks betrayed a faint blush as she took a deep breath and turned away.
“Quite.” He spoke normally. “I believe I must speak with the Southwicks. Would you care to be introduced?”
