A gnawing discomfort grew in her. She’d noticed her hands trembling slightly earlier in the coach and she felt them tremble again now. She folded them in her lap. She didn’t think Roman had noticed. She wondered if the trembling would stop if she could have a wee sip of the bottle the soldiers shared.
The bottle had stopped its movement. She lifted her gaze to the solider holding it.
He’d noticed her staring. He was a ragged sort, with several days’ growth of beard along a pudgy jawline. He grinned, showing alarmingly yellowed teeth.
The whole table now turned and ogled her in the boldest way possible.
Leonie dropped her gaze to her folded hands, heat burning her cheeks. She had been indiscreet.
“Hey there, lovely,” one of them called. “Come join us.” He had an Irish accent.
Leonie studied the bench as if she could conjure a wall between herself and them. Where was Roman? He had stepped outside with the innkeeper.
“Don’t be embarrassed, miss. There’s room at this table for you.” The jibe was met with laughing agreement—until Roman’s boots stepped into Leonie’s line of vision. He had returned and placed himself in front of her.
Silence fell.
Indeed, the whole taproom had gone quiet. Leonie feared she would succumb to the mortification. She knew better than to give any attention to soldiers. For some reason, male vanity took it as an open invitation—as ifshewould look twice at the likes of them at that table.
However, Roman’s solid presence shut them up quick enough.
She was both relieved and furious.
Roman offered her his hand. “The innkeeper has a private room for our supper.”
“Yes, please,” Leonie murmured, and took his hand. She did not glance at the soldiers as he led her through the taproom. She prayed they would be gone by the time she and Roman finished their meal.
The good-sized private room overlooked an evening garden and a small pond. Several ducks were nestled in the reeds around its bank. Leonie spent time watching them, conscious of Roman’s strong presence as the maid quickly set the table with pewter plates.
Another knock on the door and the innkeeper’s wife, who introduced herself to Leonie as Mrs. Stoddard, carried in a huge tray of food. While the maid dutifully placed the dishes on the table, Mrs. Stoddard said, “We hope you enjoy your stay, my lord. If you or your lady need anything, you have only to say the word and Michael and I will come hopping.”
“Thank you,” Roman said. “We appreciate your service.” He pressed coins in her hands.
Leonie waited for the door to close to untie her hat. Even though she had sworn off wine, she noted there was not a bottle of it on the table. Nor a pitcher of ale. Instead, the inn had served them tea.
Two pots of it.
She hated the disappointment she experienced at not seeing a bottle. It shamed her.
“I’m hungry,” she said, her voice bright. A Charnock learned the best way to move forward was to do so smartly. She set her bonnet on a side table and unbuttoned her pelisse. “Are you?”
He smiled, the expression cautious as if he’d watched to tell her mood. “Actually, I am.”
“Hard to believe when all we did was sit in a coach.” She kept her voice light, friendly, warm. Leonie knew what was expected and she always performed.
Roman sat with his wife for their first meal together. It had been a long day. However, the trip had released a great weight from his shoulders.
When he’d met with her father earlier at the bank, he’d thought to ask about the drinking. However, at the time, Charnock, who had left the night before and had not come home, was obviously intoxicated. The banker hadn’t raised an eyebrow at Charnock’s condition.
Charnock had rambled drunkenly about how pleased he was to have an earl, but he had made no apology to Roman about his daughter passing out drunk during her own wedding ceremony. He also did not ask how she fared.
Roman was no fool. Either the man knew and didn’t care, or didn’t know because, apparently, he and his wife suffered the same affliction.
And yet, Roman and Leonie had meshed together well in the coach. At the table, she served him. She poured them both cups of the rich, black tea and then placed pieces of the ham on his plate. She gave him several spoons of peas and also of carrots.
He noticed she served herself generously as well. Good. He liked women with an appetite. He remembered one of the things that had attracted him to Leonie was her lack of pretense. Amongst all the young women at the Colonial Balls, she had been the most herself.
Over the dinner table, Leonie laughed easily and asked him questions about his likes and dislikes. This was the stuff of his dreams. All afternoon, she had been engaged in his talk about Bonhomie. She’d even been interested in his family.
