“Quite pleased to have you and your friend join me.”
He swept a hand to indicate the other chairs at the table. The corners of Jane’s mouth curved down further as she drew herself up with all the hauteur of a lady with two London Seasons under her belt. A loftiness Piper could never manage, but admired nonetheless.
“You overstep yourself, sir.”
Her reprimand garnered a mocking smile. The man took a trio of slow, deliberate steps forward before he paused with a raised brow.
Jane shrank back against Piper, as if she didn’t know quite what to make of such insolence.
“How ‘bout now?”
Chapter 13
Mother truly believes that what ‘we’ will gain through this marriage supersedes any sacrifice. If the prospect didn’t terrify me so, her ambition on my behalf might be heartwarming.
~from the diary of Piper Brudenall, January 1893
“What is this?” Hughes blustered, returning to the taproom. He scowled at the stranger. “Sir, these are ladies and friends. You would do well to let them be and be on your way.”
“I wish to have a word with Miss Langston,” the man announced, his jaw set stubbornly. “I tried to call upon her father at Meadowcroft today but was told he was not at home.”
“I don’t know you, sir. Nor will I condescend to converse with you,” Jane shot back over Hughes’s shoulder when he moved between them.
The man’s lips twitched, sending his mustache off keel. “Just like your father. Think you’re too fine to speak with me? Bloody nobles.” He spat on the floor between them.
“You may send a letter to my father in London,” Jane told him. “Good day, sir.”
“How would another letter help me when it seems your father is too high in the instep to pay his bill?” he raged. “I’ve got mouths to feed!”
The fear building in Piper slipped to sympathy. For all his bullish demeanor, the man seemed genuinely troubled.
Jane relieved Hughes of his protective stance with a light tap on his arm. “What work did you do for my father, Mr…?”
“Wilkes,” he grumbled. “Reshod his team of four when he passed through Amersham last spring. Only lost one bleedin’ shoe and insisted the lot be reshod. Promised to pay me on his way here after the session was over but never showed.”
It was a common enough practice for noblemen to live on credit for goods and services alike and stretch out repayment indefinitely. Celeste had made a habit of it over the years. Buying whatever she liked and waiting until her quarterly allowance to pay a portion of it off. Never all of it. Be that as it may, Jane’s father wasn’t the sort to take advantage. He’d worked hard for his money and understood the value of every pound.
Jane, too, appeared surprised. “There must be some mistake.”
“No mistake. Gave me his card, he did.” Wilkes patted down his pockets and came up empty, reminding Piper of the possibility that his claim was nothing more than a ruse.
“Ye said yer piece,” Hughes puffed. “Be off wi’ ye!”
Wilkes shook his head and fished a meager amount of currency from his pocket. Selecting a pair of coins, he tossed them on the table, muttering something under his breath. He turned toward the door.
Somehow the idea of him simply walking away troubled Piper even more. If his story were true, it seemed a shame for him to leave empty-handed.
If it wasn’t, though…
Suspicion was a horrible burden. She jumped at shadows without reason. And there was no discernable reason to suspect Wilkes of any ill intent. Large as he may be, he hardly bore the demeanor of a thug for hire, not like some of the others she’d heard about who came through Aylesbury searching for her. Blacksmiths and farriers, by trade, were generally muscular in build.
Moreover, if he sought Piper, why invent this sham to involve Jane? Neither her mother nor Rutledge had ever confronted Jane regarding her disappearance before. There was a fair chance Celeste wasn’t even aware of their friendship, devoid of maternal interest as she was. There was no reason Rutledge should know.
No, the only one who’d ever thought to ask Jane about her was Harry…and that only recently.
A curl of dread knotted her stomach.
Recently and publicly. At a ball, Jane had said. Not any ball. Lady Onslow’s. Where everyone who was anyone would be. Including Rutledge? No. Although any number of his acquaintances might have attended.
