The matron nodded. “Pretty name. Suits you.” Silence settled across the room, only interrupted by the wood popping in the hearth, even though the night was warm. “How come Mort and his brothers stole you like they did?”
“Money, I suppose.” Felicity hugged herself. “I trusted the wrong people.”
“Wagered some money and lost it?”
“No. I wagered my heart, and he lost it.”
Mrs. Bean rocked in her creaking chair, squinting closer at the seam she was sewing. “They mean to punish him that you lost your heart to by stealing you away and holding you for ransom?”
“It would seem so.”
“You in love with a rich man, then?”
“No. He has nothing. But my family would pay well to see me returned safely.” What good would it do to lie about it? “My brother is a duke. But those horrid men don’t want the money from him. They want it from the man I promised to marry.”
“Thought you said he had nothing?”
“He doesn’t.” Felicity blew out a heavy sigh and rubbed her tired and gritty eyes. “I feel certain he shall need to get the money from my brother.”
Mrs. Bean slowly shook her head while frowning down at her mending. “You trusted poorly.”
“I did indeed.”
The elderly lady set down her needlework and frowned at the fire. “Daren’t be feeling bad about it. ’Tis easy to trust poorly. The good-hearted are often taken in by the bad.”
“I just want to go home.” Felicity folded her arms on the table and cradled her head atop them. She couldn’t stress enough how badly she wished to go home. Eyes closed, she willed herself not to cry, knowing that if she ever started, she would never be able to stop.
“Tomorrow will be better, gal.”
“I very much doubt that.”
“Me and my Edmund will take good care of you long as it takes for that brother of yours to pay your way back.” Mrs. Bean shook her head as she selected another garment to mend. “You be better off withus than old Mort and his brothers.”
“I am sure you are quite correct on that count,” Felicity said, wishing the old woman would be quiet.
“Kind of nice having someone to talk to other than my Edmund.” Mrs. Bean gave her son a loving smile. “Him is a good man but ain’t much for conversation. Much like his father was.”
Felicity bit the inside of her cheek to keep from commenting that Mrs. Bean seemed quite capable of carrying on a robust conversation all by herself. “I appreciate your kindness,” she said, instead of what was really on her mind.
The old woman chuckled. “Ain’t kindness, gal. Me and my Edmund need the coin somethin’ fierce.” She blew out a heavy sigh and stared into the crackling fire. “Last winter was hardest we ever had. There for a while, I wondered if we would make it. Need that money for stores for the coming winter, since we lost everything ’cept this here place.”
Even in the depths of her misery, Felicity saw a tiny ray of hope. “Help me get back to my brother, and I shall see that you are paid triple what Mort and his men promised you. They don’t seem all that trustworthy to me. What’s to keep them from not paying you the other half of what you are owed?”
Mrs. Bean shook her head. “A fine idea, gal, and you do speak true about Mort and his lying ways, but me and my Edmund can’t be crossing him. To do so would cost us our lives. Old Mort gots himself a terrible temper. Gave his own brother that scar that runs across his face.” She offered Felicity a sad smile. “Sorry, gal. We just can’t be doing it. They would burn us out, and leave us to starve to death. The risk be too great.”
Felicity’s hopes crumbled along with her ability to hold back her tears. “I understand,” she whispered, then buried her face in her arms.
Chapter Fourteen
Drake’s hopes fellas he spotted the duke returning to the fork in the road just as he arrived at the juncture. “I found no sign of them,” he told the stormy-faced man. “And the farmer I spoke with had not seen anyone all day.”
Broadmere shook his head. “If they came this way, it is as though the earth opened up and swallowed them. I went as far as the end of the lane. In her terror, I fear Merry was confused about the direction they took. We have lost precious time.”
Drake headed his horse off the road, cutting across the meadow toward the village. “To the inn, then, to confront the devils responsible.”
“Lead on.” Broadmere rode alongside him.
By the time they reached the inn, its patrons were coming down from their rooms to enjoy tea in the dining room. The door to the private parlor was closed.
