As if she could read his thoughts, andagreed with them, Elise began walking.
Kit watched her go, tempted to let her do as she wished.
Of course, that would be the humorless thing to do.
Kit moved to catch up with her. He couldn’t help but notice that even in his jacket, which was oversized on her, her hips had a gentle sway as she walked. Tamsyn nudged him with her stick. He threw it, but his gaze didn’t leave Elise’s charming movement.
And he realized what the true problem was. Oh, yes, he was hungry, and that weighed on his mood, but there was something else amiss—she didn’t act in any fashion attracted to him.
Without being vain, he knew women liked his looks. They liked that he was tall. They flattered him, even when he was plain Kit without title or fortune. If he had so wished it on thisadventure, he could have had plenty of female companionship.
But he hadn’t encouraged that sort of thing because women distracted him from sorting himself out. He was working on being a better man.
However, Elise had the looks that could make any male daffy headed. She was Helen of Troy and Hades’s Persephone—all wrapped up in a lovely little landed gentry package.
So perhaps it was good fortune that she thought he snored—
Elise came to a sudden stop, her arm outstretched. “Do you smell it?”
“What?” He sniffed the air himself, and then caught the scent. Baking bread. “Come, this way.” He took her hand without a second thought to the promises he’d made to himself to keep his distance. He would have dragged her in the direction of that blessed aroma if she hadn’t been willing to come with him. Even Tamsyn dropped her stick and ran alongside them.
There was a bend in the path. They followed it and found themselves in front of a trio of cottages with well-tended gardens. A woman was coming out one of the doors. She juggled a baby in one arm and a basket in the other.
Kit moved forward swiftly, reaching her in front of her garden gate. She’d been so busy, she hadn’t noticed him immediately. His presence surprised her. She almost dropped the basket.
He stretched over the gate to save it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see someone there.” She was perhaps a few years older than Elise with apple cheeks and ginger hair beneath her mobcap.
“We are heading toward the posting inn,” he explained. “I saw you leave your stoop and thought to help.” He opened the gate.
“Well, thank you.” She glanced at Elise and then, apparently believing they meant her no harm, relaxed. She crossed through the gate.
He sniffed the air. Bread now mingled with other smells. Earthier ones. Animals. Stables? A barn? “Could you tell us—how much farther is it to catch the Mail?”
“A stone’s throw,” she answered. “My husband’s father owns the George Inn. Come with me.”
“Before I do—” Kit paused. This was going to be a delicate ask. “We are very hungry. My nose is telling me that you have buns in that basket.”
“I do, just from the oven.”
“May we purchase one?”
“They are for the inn,” she said.
“I will perish if I don’t eat something now,” Kit vowed. He lifted his oilskin pack from over his head and started digging in the pockets. He found his coin purse in a pocket. It was very light in his hand. He opened the drawstring and shook out all he had and was disappointed.
He’d known he was low on funds but he’d forgotten exactly how low. He’d have to do something to replenish the larder, as he liked to call it. But how much could a bun cost? He was at a point he would have paid her a hundred pounds if he’d had it. He offered what he had. “Please.”
She looked up with doubtful eyes and then glanced again at Elise, who was doing her part by smiling at the baby, who smiled back and giggled. “Your daughter is beautiful,” Elise said to the woman.
Daughter? How could Elise tell? The baby could be a boy or a girl with her bald head under a cotton cap.
The innkeeper’s daughter smiled with maternal pride. “Thank you.” Then, she looked down at her basket. “I suppose letting you purchase one will be all right.” She took only a pence, letting him keep the rest of his meager hoard.
Proving he still had a semblance of manners, Kit offered the bread to Elise first. She tore it in two. He noted she took the smaller portion and he was so hungry, he let her.
“The inn is this way,” the woman said, starting in that direction. “I’m Mrs. Sarver.”
