He fell into step beside her and clasped his hands behind his back. “Don’t look so shocked, Miss Meriwether. I may be a rake when it comes to you and God, but I’m not a complete scoundrel. I have done things for others. Why, there is a charity event each year and I am very generous about emptying my pockets.”
She nodded. “That is very selfless of you, I agree. What is the charity for?”
Cain opened his mouth to answer but found himself at a loss for words. In truth, he had no idea, because he’d never really paid attention, but since he couldn’t admit that to her, he muttered, “Orphaned children of London.”
“Very admirable,” she noted. Cain grimaced, because he was quite sure he would have to do more than just ask forgiveness for his blackened soul for lying to such a pure creature as the lady at his side.
Hoping to maneuver the conversation away from his own failings, he asked, “Where to now?”
“I thought you might like a bite to eat. It is nearly lunchtime, and the Queen’s Head Pub is not to be missed when visiting Meriden.” She hesitated. “Or while just passing through.”
He glanced at her, but she was looking straight ahead. Either way, he discerned that she didn’t expect him to stay in town for long. But then, if the vicar had been around when he’d arrived, who was to say he’d wouldn’t already be on his way to London?
The inn had a charming, two-story white exterior which had adopted the striking Tudor style with half-timber, dark brown beams. Inside, it was the same, with a few chairs and tables scattered about but only a handful of patrons even though it should have been a busy time of day.
The moment they walked in they were greeted with a broad smile from the lady behind the counter. She didn’t fit the typical buxom barmaid that Cain always seemed to find. Rather, she was slender and had dark hair, just starting to turn silver, pulled back into a simple bun. She wiped her hands on her apron as she walked out from behind the bar.
“Miss Meriwether! It’s not often I get the privilege of seeing ye during the week.” She glanced curiously at Cain.
“This is Viscount Markel, Mable.” Miss Meriwether preformed the introductions. “My lord, this is Mrs. Mable Decker. She runs the pub with her husband, Herbert.”
Mable offered him a warm greeting, if not a bit flustered in the way she put a hand to her heart and began to ramble. “My goodness! A true viscount right here in Meriden! Please, come and sit here. It’s our best table. We also have rooms for let upstairs, and while I’m sure they’re not as grand as what you’re used to, I can assure you that they are clean and comfortable.”
Cain was used to getting special treatment when it became known that he was a member of the peerage, but it wasn’t until this moment that he felt almost… humbled by this woman’s attention. It was obvious she was willing to bend over backwards to ensure his comfort.
“I’m not sure how long the viscount wishes to remain in town, Mable,” Miss Meriwether was quick to point out. “He was wishing to speak to my father. I’m sure he’ll be eager to continue his journey once their conversation has concluded.”
Cain wasn’t sure what made him deny her claim, as it was what he’d originally intended. But as life had a way of teaching him, sometimes plans change. As Mable handed him a list with a selection of items to look over, he adopted a casual air. “On the contrary, Miss Meriwether, I may just extend my visit. I’m finding that your village is rather charming.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Mable clasped her hands together. “There are plenty of interesting things to see! Castle ruins and—”
As the innkeeper began to extol the many virtues to be had in Meriden, Cain risked a glance at Miss Meriwether. Although her expression was clear of any sort of response, he had the feeling she wasn’t very pleased he would be staying longer.
It was all Dove could do to keep her composure as Mable gushed about having a viscount in her inn. She prayed it didn’t disrupt the order of things, because the village was neat and proper without having a man like Lord Markel around to cause chaos. Granted, he hadn’t done anything to disrupt their tightknit community yet, but she knew men of his sort. They might initially believe that they wanted to ask forgiveness for their many sins, but they generally didn’t pass the first test of their newfound character and quickly reverted to their old ways. She’d witnessed it time and time again, and nothing proved to her that the viscount was any different. Just because he hadn’t left after visiting the infirmary, didn’t mean anything. He would leave eventually; if nothing else, just because duty demanded it.
“Will you be staying for lunch as well, Dove?”
“Dove?” She glanced at the viscount who was looking at her rather curiously. “That’s your given name?”
“Yes,” she returned, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Is there something wrong?”
Mable gasped, as it was rather bold of Dove to reply in such a manner when she was normally more demure. However, Lord Markel didn’t seem to mind. “Not at all. I suppose it was just… unexpected. It’s not a name I hear very often, and yet, it suits you.” Dove wasn’t sure what to make of that, but she didn’t have time to ask as he shifted his focus to Mable. “The lady will be joining me.”
“Actually—” Dove held up a hand, but Mable had already scurried away. With a sigh, she sank down onto the chair opposite the viscount and glared at him. “I wasn’t intending to stay, my lord. I still have other things to attend to today.”
“And supplying your body’s demands for food isn’t one of them?” he countered with a lifted brow.
“Of course, but I don’t live that far—” She broke off as Mable returned to set down a pint of ale before him, while Dove was handed a glass of water. After she reluctantly gave the lady her order, Dove took a small sip of her drink.
“Let me guess, you never imbibe during the day?”
She lifted her gaze and noted that the viscount was looking at her intently. In truth, it was quite disconcerting. She shifted in her seat. “I’ve never consumed any spirits.”
He had just taken a hefty drink of his ale, but after her admission, he swallowed hard. “Never?” he echoed in disbelief. “What of wine?”
“I suppose I do have a bit of wine with communion,” she conceded.
He blinked. “That’s all?”
