Miles turned on his heel and strode to the front door. What the hell was going on? That was clearly the Dearborn crest on that carriage. Susanna had to be here. What sort of accident? Was she alright? The carriage hadn’t looked damaged. He pulled open the door and stepped into the dim interior of the inn’s entrance hall. An older man with bushy white sideburns sat behind a counter that ran the length of one wall. Farther down the counter another man poured beers from two taps and set them on a serving tray held by a buxom barmaid.
The man with the sideburns set down the newspaper he was reading. “Can I help you, sir?”
Miles crossed to stand in front of him. He slapped his hands on the counter. “I am Lord Hawksridge. My…wife checked in yesterday?”
The man jumped off his stool, straightening his shoulders. “Yes, Lord Hawksridge, welcome. Yes, I gave her my best rooms. We sent for the bonesetter for her coachman, gave him a good room too. To recover comfortably.”
“And the lady, my wife I mean, she was unharmed?”
“Yes, she was not injured to my knowledge. Your rooms are numbers four and five. Last ones available I might add.” Resting his forearm on the counter the man leaned forward. “I moved some people around to make sure your wife and her servants got my best rooms. I made sure.”
Miles wanted to chuckle at the man’s overt fawning but managed to swallow the impulse. “Thank you. I’ll just go see to her. Room four you said?”
The proprietor nodded. He raised a hand and gestured to a woman who Miles hadn’t noticed standing in the doorway between the entrance hall and the dining room. She hurried over. “Show Lord Hawksridge to room four, Nellie.”
Miles followed the woman down a long hallway and up a flight of stairs. What sort of accident had happened? Why would Susanna say she was his wife? And why did the concept give him a strange thrill?
“This is room four, my lord.”
“Thank you.” He passed the girl a coin and she curtsied and headed back down the corridor.
He knocked on the wood door.
“Come in.”
Miles turned the knob and pushed the door open. Susanna sat cross-legged in the center of a large bed a book in her lap. He stepped inside. “Hello, wife.”
Chapter Eleven
Drat.How thehell did Hawksridge find her? Why was he even here? Susanna frowned. “I told them I was fine. I’m traveling with friends. They needn’t have bothered you.”
He shut the door behind him with a loud snap. “And yet here you are alone in a posting inn, unchaperoned. Do you understand how dangerous it is for ladies to travel alone?”
“Only to Guilford. I’m meeting up with Colonel Hadley and his wife. It is only because of the unfortunate incident that we had to stop at all. Sam and Jenni are right through that door.”
Miles rolled his eyes. “And what stopped me from entering your room? You didn’t even have the door locked!”
Susanna bit her lip to stop from smiling at his dark expression. He really did look terrifyingly stern when he was mad. Standing at over six feet, his broad shoulders and muscles stretched the seams of his jacket as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. His wide stance and ramrod posture was meant to be intimidating, to some. But she knew he was more frustrated than angry. His dark-blond hair was tousled by the wind and his tall hessians were covered in dust from the road. He was probably more irked by his rumpled appearance than he was by her.
“Politeness?”
His expression darkened further and he stalked over to the bed. “If you are teasing me, I will wring your pretty little neck,” he growled.
The noise sent a shiver down her spine. Why was it so delicious to rile this man? She held up her hands. “Sorry, sorry. It is a very nice inn. Mr. Smith is very particular about who he allows to rent rooms. Which is why I had to lie and say I was married.”
Hawksridge took a step back. He tilted his head. “Why did you choose my name?”
Susanna felt her cheeks heat. “I don’t know. It just came out. Being a marchioness has some weight and I really needed to get Sam some help.” She patted the bed next to her. “Here sit down. You must be tired from the long ride.”
He looked down at the bed as though it was crawling with spiders. Then turning he went over to the fireplace and took a seat in one of the two chairs that flanked it. “What happened on the road? Your coachman was injured?”
“Yes.” She frowned. “We were stopped by a large herd of cows in the middle of the road. Sam got down and tried with no success to shoo them into a nearby field. He slapped a cow on the rump and it kicked back and nailed him in the shin, which caused him to fall to the ground. And well, the herd startled and began to move. He was trampled.”
“Were you and Jenni hurt?”
“No, we were safely inside the carriage. The two of us dragged him back to the carriage and I drove us here. Luckily there is a bonesetter in town, he is also the smithy.” Susanna smiled. The smithy had been a giant of a man with a surprisingly soft voice and gentle mannerism. “He said the leg bone wasn’t broken but that the knee joint had been dislocated and that two fingers on Sam’s hand were broken but no bones in the hand itself. He set everything properly.”
Poor Sam, his screams had been hard to hear. She had held Jenni tightly while the smithy did his job. Jenni had buried her head in her shoulder. “It was hard for poor Jenni to hear his screams of pain. She has been caring for him in the next room. I just didn’t have the heart to ask her to leave him alone and hurt. They are right next door if I would need anything.”
