“Does—what?”
“See.”
A smothered laugh.
Rossiter checked and turned about.
The servants looked wooden but wary.
“You!” snapped Rossiter, jabbing his finger at the sturdiest of them.
The lackey jumped. “Not me, sir! Straight, Captain sir. ’Tweren’t me!”
“The umbrella,” said Rossiter. “If you’re man enough to pick it up instead of giggling like a girl.”
The lackey flushed scarlet and fairly flew to snatch the umbrella and whip the door open.
Not a drop of rain fell upon the unwanted caller as he was escorted to his carriage.
***
The rosy cheeks of the proprietor of the Red Pheasant Inn glowed, and his shrewd brown eyes beamed with gratification as he ushered his fair charges out of the rain. Bowing as deeply as his well-padded middle would allow, he led the way across a parlour that made up in warmth and fragrance what it lacked in elegance. Little more than a hedge tavern, the old inn was too isolated to do a brisk trade and usually had to rely on the custom of occasional travellers unable to find accommodation at the fashionable posting houses, or who perhaps found such establishments beyond their means. In bad weather, however, when the condition of the roads took heavy toll of such vital necessities as horseshoes, wheels, and (with luck) axles, the Red Pheasant did a roaring trade.
It was roaring today. The yard was crammed with vehicles, some of whose owners had stopped here only for a tankard of ale, but a few coaches being in need of repairs, which would necessitate a longer stay. Such was the case with the vehicle owned by this lovely young female. Her wine velvet cloak, the rich laces that embellished her pink silken gown, and the prideful tilt to her pretty head, all spoke of the Quality. She paused on the threshold of the crowded dining room with a tiny frown in her eyes. Used to having the place to herself, guessed mine host, and didn’t much like having to mingle with the common herd. He stifled a sigh. She looked as if she’d have paid for her privacy, and it was a great pity he couldn’t lighten her purse, but his last bedchamber had been hired an hour since, and there was no—
“Naomi!”
The beauty’s green eyes widened, her face lit up, and she reached out to embrace the young lady who hurried with a shushing of silks to greet her. Heads turned, and for a moment the noisy room quieted as people watched the pair. That they should attract admiration was inevitable. The Lady Naomi was a fair beauty, and her friend was dark but just as lovely. She stood a little above the average height but she was fine boned and her creamy beige travelling gown clung to a tiny waist. Her ivory-hued skin was clear, her mouth sweetly bowed, her cheekbones rather broad but beautifully molded. Her black brows arched over a pair of velvety eyes of so dark a blue that at first sight they appeared to be black also. Despite their size and rich colour, however, it was her eyes alone which prevented her beauty from being termed perfection. Gentlemen found their slightly almond shape fascinating, but that her grandmama had been born to a lady of the Orient was well known. Her eyes were a reminder of that fact, and her mixed blood provided many less well favoured ladies with an opportunity to sneer.
There was no sign of a sneer on Lady Naomi’s face, however. “Katrina!” she exclaimed, still clasping her friend’s hands. “Oh, but this is splendid! How come you to be here? Have you been at Ashleigh? Is August with you? Do you stay here? Surely not, when you are so close to the Manor?”
Katrina Falcon laughed softly and admitted she did stay here. “Come dearest, we have a table. You must take your tea with us.” She threaded her way across the warm room, apparently oblivious of the variously admiring and curious stares that followed them. Her table was advantageously located in a less-crowded corner, shielded from draughts, and close enough to the fire to benefit from the warmth without being roasted. The host seated them with a flourish, Maggie was sent to join Miss Falcon’s servants, and the host went in search of a serving maid.
Naomi chuckled. “I see Augustiswith you.”
“Now you cannot be sure of that, madam all wise. How if I am escorted by one of my cousins?”
“Fiddlesticks! I know your cousins and not one of them could have secured this table in such a crush! Now, wicked girl, answer my questions!”
Amused, Miss Falcon admitted that her brother did escort her. “As for the rest of your questions, yes, we were at Ashleigh. Papa is there and you know how lonely he gets in Sussex, so we joined him for a space. We had intended to visit you on our way back to Town, but one of the leaders came up lame, so August directed our coachman to this funny old place.”
A serving maid brought more china and a tray of warm scones, jam, and seed cake. Miss Falcon poured tea for her friend, and asked eagerly, “Now tell me how you go on, and why you travel the roads in such atrocious weather.”
“’Twas not atrocious when we left home. And I have never properly visited Canterbury, so I wandered about the cathedral for an hour, and stared and was overawed along with the rest of the world.”
The dark girl put down the teapot and leaned back, staring. “Do you say you went alone? Unescorted? I wonder your papa permitted it.”
“Pish!” A roguish dimple peeped beside Naomi’s mouth. “I do as I choose. I have my own fortune, and you will recall that I came of age last year. Besides, the main reason I went out was to execute a small commission for my father.”
“Ah. Then he wished you to bring him something from the Cathedral?”
“No, you prying miss! He asked that I collect a package from the jeweller in Canterbury. And so long as I was playing messenger for him, why should I not use a little time for my own pleasure and proceed to the Cathedral?”
“Because you know very well he would not approve, you saucy creature.”
Naomi’s rich chuckle sounded. “Oh, he would have made a fuss and forbade me, I do not doubt. Now, he cannot, can he?”
Her friend shook her head. “Faith, but you never cease to astound me. You are so fearless. I should be quite terrified of his anger.”
