“She’s gone before. Careful like, with her face covered. And she didn’t go alone. She’s with…er…” Albert cast a glance at the lass at his side who shrugged, then contrarily shook her head. “With a special friend of hers.”
“A special friend?” Jealousy jabbed at Connor’s chest. The thought that Piper had a lover both pained and maddened him. Granted, she’d given him no reason to think she cared for him by word or deed. Other than a few rare smiles and a hint of laughter, she’d never gifted him with another moment of intimacy beyond a pair a kisses.
He had no claim over her, hence no reason to entertain the tiniest hint of jealousy. Nevertheless, he was.
Piper roused something in him he’d never experienced before. Something unique, deserving of exploration. True, he didn’t know her well as yet. He wanted the chance to learn each detail, hear every story, nonetheless. He wanted her for his own. To be the one to shelter her from harm. To make her laugh. To bathe her in affection and kisses.
To help her live again.
He was willing to stand toe-to-toe with any special friends to argue his case.
“Where can I find her?”
If a facial shrug were possible, Albert managed it. “Now that I don’t rightly know, m’lord. I’ve escorted her into the village but once and that to the butcher. I doubt her…er…”
“Friend?” Connor supplied at something close to a growl when the groom cast another inquiring glance at the maid for confirmation.
Albert nodded. “They wouldn’t be there.”
Where then? Connor hadn’t been into Aylesbury much himself other than to knock back a few pints at taverns no lady would frequent, no matter the type of friends she kept. The population wasn’t a large one, however, he had no desire to scour the streets for her.
“I might know where they’ve gone,” the still-blushing maid piped up. “I’ve gone with them before.”
That raised Connor’s brows and a few questions more. Those he didn’t want an answer to. “Where?”
“Could be they’ve gone to the milliners,” she told him. “Or the lace maker. Or that pastry shop on High Street.”
Albert grinned down at her. “Right tasty scones.”
The maid flushed vermillion and ducked her head with another smile.
Inside jokes. “Bloody hell.”
“They’ve a regular fondness for the King’s Head,” she told him. “They end up there most every visit.”
The King’s Head? Same one Larkin had mentioned being questioned at by some random merchant? He didn’t like the coincidence.
“Where is this pub located?”
“Off Church Street where it crosses Market,” Albert directed.
The maid shook her head. “No, it’s off Market past Church. Then down the alley between the—”
Connor held up a hand. “Never mind. Ye’re coming wi’ me to lead the way. Saddle up a horse and mine, as well…” He eyed the groom with a frown, recalling the last time he’d been near Connor’s horse. “Scratch that. I’ll do it myself.”
* * *
The multiple layers of lace draping from the wide brim of Piper’s hat floated up and down like a ballerina’s tutu as she passed under the portico separating the alley from the cobbled courtyard of the quaint Tudor era pub beyond. The cold breeze tugged at her hat and nipped at her nose and cheeks. Rather than leaving her chilled, she felt invigorated. Happy. Odd that the emotion should seem so foreign.
“I hate that hat,” her friend groused, not for the first time that day.
“No more than I,” Piper concurred. She wore the heavy veils to disguise her identity when she was in the village. The King’s Head offered a private room where Piper could relieve herself of them without the worry of being recognized. One day, she would be free of the black and when that day arrived, she swore she’d never wear it again. “At least it keeps the breeze at bay, thus my nose doesn’t look like a cherry.”
“Oh!” Jane gasped and covered her nose with her gloved hand while Piper laughed. Her friend always presented a picture of fashionable perfection, as if she belonged in one of Monet’s idyllic paintings. “I suppose you’re teasing is preferable to Mother’s fussing. You would think we’ve never removed to London before.”
“I’m glad to provide an excuse for you to get away.” Piper squeezed her hand, grateful for one last visit with her friend. Everything would change by the time Jane returned to Aylesbury.
“I wouldn’t mind a pint on such a cold day.” There was a hint of laughter in Jane’s eyes, though Piper would wager she wasn’t entirely teasing.
