Chapter 5
Wesley's eyes popped open, a beam of light spearing him in the forehead so bright and hot it burned. He flinched, his body protesting any movement. Underneath him, a bit of straw had worked its way under his coat and shirt, scratching his side. He panted as he rolled over, his stiff muscles screaming, his joints grinding. How had he aged one hundred years in a single night?
He'd slept in worse places. Twenty-nine wasn'tthatold, was it? He poked at Ned's shoulder, who was still sound asleep, the bastard.
Wesley pushed himself to a sitting position and looked around. The stable was busy, ostler's coming and going.
“Ned, wake up, we overslept.” He reached for his boots, shaking them out before slipping them on his feet to root out any critters. Wesley ran a hand through his hair and then shoved his hat on his head before climbing down the ladder.
“Ned. Wake. Up!”
Ned burst upright, smacking his head on the rafters. “Wh-what happened, where are we?”
“We overslept. Get your bloody boots on. I'm going to check on Willa's whereabouts.”
Wesley jumped down from the ladder, his bones jarred. He limped out of the stable into the inn yard.
“Sir!” He waved down the innkeeper. “The two women here last night that took the last room, have they left?”
The innkeeper snorted. “The stage left a half hour ago. Your women left without you.” He snickered as he walked away.
“Only one of them is my woman,” Wesley muttered. His cramped muscles were beginning to loosen as adrenaline pumped through his veins. They were gone, but a half hour wasn't a huge lead over their two horses. Ned was hobbling out from the stables, tucking in his shirt. Wesley requested their horses be readied.
“Do we have time to break our fast?” Ned asked.
Wesley shook his head, too annoyed to growl a response. It wasn't Ned's fault but his own. Some protector he was, sleeping through her departure.
* * *
Willa rubbed her eyes as she sat up in the bed. She yawned and reached over her head, her back cracking. Surveying the room, Mrs. Gobstone’s side of the bed was made up, and the woman was absent. Willa looked out the window. Bright sunshine filtered through the thin linen curtains. Her heart sped up.
“What time is it?” Willa said to the empty room. She hurried out of bed and quickly dressed. She dug in her reticule for her timepiece. A gift from Anne on her last birthday, but there was nothing. The reticule was utterly empty. No coins, no timepiece, no comb. Her stomach twisted, and she had the horrible feeling that something was utterly wrong. She dug through her valise. Her coin purse was missing, everything she had of monetary value, save for her silk stockings—bless the Lord, was gone.
Willa sucked in a breath, her throat burning.
She'd been robbed.
Her gaze settled on Mrs. Gobstone’s empty space.
“That bloody woman,” Willa growled. She paced around the bed. All of Mrs. Gobstone’s belongings had vanished. There was no trace that the woman had ever been there. Willa gathered up her clothing, stuffed it in her valise, and marched down to the innkeeper's desk.
“My companion last evening.” She drew in a steadying breath. She didn't need to shout at the innkeeper. It wasn't his fault. “Do you happen to know where she is?”
“Aye, I thought she'd be with you on the stage. Did you oversleep or did you intend to part ways?”
Willa grit her teeth. Mrs. Gobstone had parted Willa of all her money, save for the precious coins she'd sewn into the hood of her cloak. Willa swallowed. She'd gone one step further. She'd sewn a secret pocket into her shift, scarcely large enough to hold a pound note, but now it was all she had, and it might not be enough to buy her passage to London. She'd be stranded somewhere along this route at some point unless she could come up with a solution on her own.
Which she would.
She reminded herself she was first and foremost a Marsden. Second, she was Willa and problems were only solutions waiting to be discovered; she was the most levelheaded of her sisters, and she would not panic.
“What do I owe you for my stay?”
The innkeeper smiled. “Mrs. Gobstone took care of the bill. I'll have Jessa bring you a bowl of porridge. Breakfast is included with the room fee.”
“Thank you, good sir,” Willa replied.
Ugh. Porridge. One thing she'd never wanted to eat again, but her stomach would have to make peace with the pallid meal while she thought about what to do next.
