“No need to be. I enjoyed it. I rarely have a warm, fragrant body leaning against me on a long, tedious journey.”
Her eyes widened with alarm at the blatant admission. Did he think she was a loose woman? Or was he laughing at her, which seemed almost as bad? She studied him carefully in the mid-morning sunlight. His white-toothed smile softened his face. An array of fine lines radiated from the corners of his eyes, which she discovered on closer inspection had striations of deep blue amid the gray. “I’m better now. It won’t happen again. I shall eat in the inn dining room, thank you.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and fussed with the hat, which had slid to one side as she’d slept.
A dark eyebrow lifted as his gaze ran over her. “Do you really expect this disguise to hold up under scrutiny in the dining room? I think not. Your virtue is safe with me, Lady Prudence, if that is what you fear. I am hungry and bone weary. And I’m anxious to reach London before nightfall, for an important appointment.”
She blushed, ashamed of how ungracious she’d been after he’d so generously come to her aid. “I am most dreadfully hungry myself.”
“Then I shall order a hearty breakfast.” When he grinned, the brackets beside his mouth deepened, adding to his attractiveness. She tried to remain unaffected by this charming rake but feared she might lose the battle.
He drove the curricle into the forecourt of a prosperous-lookingcoaching inn built of redbrick, with ivy growing up the walls to the upper stories. An ostler hurried out to the horses’ heads.
Lord Hereford paid him, and he led the horses away. They entered the inn, where delicious smells wafted from the dining room. The innkeeper apparently knew Lord Hereford and welcomed him warmly. With nary a glance at Prue, he quickly had the private parlor readied for them.
Directed to an upstairs chamber, Prue used the commode and washed her face and hands. Before a mirror, she removed the hat and stared dismally at her disheveled locks disturbed as she’d slept. With few pins left and no brush, there was little she could do other than pull her hair back into a long braid, reminiscent of an old-fashioned queue, like one of their ancestors in a portrait hanging in the gallery. Prue grimaced. How odd she looked in her father’s clothes. As she settled the hat on her head again, planning to remove it once they were alone at the table, she was sorely tempted to change into the gown she’d tucked into her portmanteau. For some indefinable reason, she wanted to look pretty. But Lord Hereford would become annoyed if he had to wait for her. And he did say it was safer for her to continue in this disguise. She knew he was eager to reach Richmond and deposit her with Gramma before continuing on his way.
As she went down to the parlor, it occurred to her that when he left her with her great-grandmother, it would probably be the last time she would see him. There would be very few of thetonremaining in London now the Season had ended. Society would have retreated to their country estates for shooting parties and hunt balls, and some would visit the Harrogate Spa. Prue would like to see him again. If only to learn what he might discover about her father’s murder, for she intended to ask him to look into it.
Prue entered the small parlor. Lord Hereford stood beside a blazing fire, a glass of wine in his hand. His glance from her head to her toes caused her to fuss with her hat. He made no comment, walkingover to pull out the chair at the table for her.
“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering to hasten matters,” he said as she sat. “I hope it meets with your approval.” He took his seat and rasped his hand over his strong jaw, shadowed with dark stubble. “Would you care for a glass of Madeira?”
“No, coffee, thank you.” Prue needed to keep a clear head. While she looked dreadfully unattractive in her odd costume, and he had been kind, it would have been unwise for her to trust how personable he seemed.
Two young serving maids entered carrying flavorsome dishes and fragrant coffee. Prue kept her head lowered as they unloaded plates of kidneys, bacon, sausage and eggs, a basket of warm bread rolls, and coffee cups onto the table.
When the servants left, Prue, smelling the aroma of fried bacon, discovered she was ravenous, pulled off her hat, seized her knife and fork, and tucked in. It tasted as good as it looked.
“That’s better. Now I can see your pretty face.” He eyed her with amusement as he stirred a lump of sugar into his coffee. Under his scrutiny, heat burned in her cheeks. “I approve of this way of wearing your hair, but your appearance would fool no one.”
She raised her hand to pat her hair, then quickly dropped it, not wanting him to know how his words affected her. “I’ll put my hat on again before we leave.”
“Pity.”
She concentrated on buttering a roll.
“Are you sure your great-grandmother will help you? I doubt she could stand up to Mr. Stanton, should he choose to be difficult.”
Prue swallowed the piece of bacon she’d been enjoying. “I’m sure he won’t behave badly in Gramma’s presence. Her loyal servants would come to her aid, should it be necessary.” She shrugged. “Roland can hardly remove me forcibly from her care when I refuse to go with him. And my great-grandmama isn’t easily cowed.” Prue recalled thattime in Bond Street when she’d been ten years old and a gentleman pushed past her on the crowded footpath, jostling her, making her stumble and drop her package. Outraged, Gramma had struck him on the arm with her parasol. He’d apologized profusely. “While I stay with her, I’ll have time to decide what action to take.”
Lord Hereford paused in the act of slicing his eggs to study her thoughtfully. “‘Action’? Surely, you don’t intend to involve yourself in your father’s murder?”
She sipped from her coffee cup. Perhaps she should keep her own counsel. He was far too perceptive and might try to prevent her. But she was determined to question him. “My lord, do you have any idea who could have killed my father? The gunman rode up to the house and shot Papa through the library window before anyone could prevent him. Such a bold attack was surely not the act of a disgruntled farmer, and I know of no such local man who might carry a grudge against my father.”
“I don’t. You saw the fellow?”
“Yes. He wore a hat, the brim pulled low. I couldn’t see him clearly. His face was in shadow, and the morning sunlight was in my eyes.”
“Do you think he might have seen you?”
“With the sun behind him, perhaps he caught sight of me at the window.”
His heavy black eyebrows met over troubled eyes. “Might your life be in peril, too?”
Prue rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms. “He was too far away and might have thought me a housemaid. Why should he consider me a threat? I couldn’t identify him. And whatever reason he had for this horrific act, I know nothing of it.”
She’d brought the cryptic note she had found with her.Meddle and suffer the consequences. What’s done cannot be undone.
Prue hesitated, deliberating whether or not to tell the viscount about it. There seemed no harm in discussing it with him. And itmight make him agree to help her. “My father recently took steps to improve security at his estate, arming the grooms and footmen.”
