He nodded. “Good. And leave the restto me.”
“You have hidden depths,Mr. Feather,” Erina said, as they approached her father. “I’m inhalf a mind to snap you up myself.”
Harold bowed. “You are a mostfrightful tease, Lady Erina.”
Chapter Three
Close to nightfall, Jack had riddenfar enough to leave the sprawl of London behind him. Forced to findan inn after a storm blew overhead and lightning spooked his horse,he welcomed the sight of one. The Old Angel Inn appeared out of thegathering dusk, surrounded by woodlands, fields, andfarmhouses.
In the stables, he saw to Arion’sneeds then left instructions with the stable boy who staredgoggled-eyed at the magnificent chestnut.
Jack went in search of a meal. Duringhis army life, he ate and slept when he could. No telling when theopportunity for either would present itself after breakfasttomorrow. Winter was giving way to spring, but the air still had abite. Hungry, he crossed the cobbles to the thatched-roofed Tudorbuilding. He stepped through the door, pulled off his browngreatcoat and removed his black beaver hat, hanging them on a hooknear the door. The inn appeared to be a well-run establishment. Itwas clean, and tasty aromas wafted from the kitchen. With a roomsecured for the night, Jack entered the dining room. It was snug,with a low-beamed ceiling and a hearty fire, which snapped andpopped in the fireplace. Several tables were occupied. Two men sattogether, discussing the merits of crop rotation, while awell-dressed gentleman sat alone smoking a pipe. In a corner, a manand a woman silently ate their soup.
A dark-haired serving girl swung herhips between the tables as she approached him, a twinkle in hereye. Jack ordered beef, ale and parsnip pudding, cabbage with baconand onions, and apple pie. He smiled his thanks when she placed atankard before him. Whilst he drank his ale, he watched her goabout her tasks, with brisk neat movements.
While the dull ache caused by the lossof his father still lodged somewhere near his heart, Jack felt atone with himself for the first time in years. He had relished thecompanionship of his fellow soldiers during the war, and hisfriends since then, but now it surprised him to find he enjoyed hisown company and looked forward to his journey through Wales andacross the sea to Ireland. He didn’t anticipate trouble. But if heshould encounter any he could handle himself wellenough.
Jack’s appearance gave no clue to hisbackground. He wore sober earth tones and leathers; the clothes ofa man of relatively modest means or a country squire in buckskinbreeches and oxblood leather boots. His coat was a serviceablebrown and his cotton waistcoat black. His usual starched whiteshirts and intricately tied cravats had been replaced with a creamshirt and a brown scarf. Once on horseback, he presented in adifferent light, however. Arion was a gentleman’s horse, whichcould make Jack more susceptible to the interest of unsavorycharacters who roamed the roads. He would keep his pistolloaded.
The meal was satisfying, good simplefare. After a port in the taproom, Jack retired to his smallbedroom and undressed. He folded his clothes and put them on thechair, washed in tepid water, cleaned his teeth, and toweledhimself dry. He slipped between clean cold sheets in the narrowbed. The mattress was too short, his feet hung over the edge. He’dprefer to have slept out in a field and would have but for the wetweather.
He lay with his arm under his headthinking about the life he’d left behind. The relatives of hisfather’s widow were probably eyeing the silver. He hoped Grantwould give those hangers-on their marching orders.
Close to midnight he began to thinkabout sleep. Downstairs, the tap room quieted. Noise from thepatrons departing floated through his window. He turned on hisside, bashed his pillow, and closed his eyes.
At the clunk of his door beingunlatched, Jack rolled over. He was on his feet in a minute andsnatched up his pistol, the chilly air a shock on his bareskin.
The door edged open, and a handappeared holding a fluttering candle. A girl’s pale face framed bylong curly dark hair followed, then her buxom figure dressed in awhite nightgown. “Were you asleep, sir?”
The girl who’d served his meal steppedfarther into the room. She put a hand to her mouth with a gasp asher gaze roamed from his head to his feet and settled on hismid-section.
“As you can see I am not.”Jack tossed his pistol down and grabbed the small towel pulling itaround his waist. It was woefully inadequate.
“I’m Callie. I wondered ifyou might need company.” She put the candlestick down on the table,then came forward and placed a hand on his bare chest, smiling upat him. “You’re a very big gentleman.”
Jack removed her hand from where ithad begun to wander. He clasped it in his, breathing in the scentof warm woman. “And one with very little money.”
She pouted. “That what you think ofme? I’m not after money. I’m a bit homesick, is all.”
“Are you?” Jack’s gazedropped from her comely face to her breasts pressed against thethin material of her nightgown. “Well then…”
Below in the courtyard, a coachclattered noisily through the archway, raising the dogs. Loudvoices erupted in the still night air. A woman criedout.
“What the devil is goingon?” Jack opened the window wide and leaned out. Four peoplealighted from the sumptuous coach. Two women stood by the vehicleas a man who appeared to be sick or hurt, was hefted out by thecoachman and half carried toward the inn.
Jack snatched up his clothes from thechair, donned his breeches and sat to pull on his boots. “I suggestyou return to your room, Miss Callie. The proprietress might haveneed of you. Wouldn’t do to be seen here.”
Callie backed away to the door with ahuff of disappointment.
“But thanks for the offer,”Jack added with a wry grin.
She grinned back. “Are you stayinglong?”
“I leave in themorning.”
“A pity.” She hurriedout.
Throughout the inn, doors began toopen, and guests crowded into the corridor from their rooms. Jackbuttoned his coat and strode out, descending the stairs, as soundsof sobbing rose from the parlor.
