No wife stood in the doorway, just Watson.
All the air in Felton’s lungs leached out in a frustrated sigh. “Yes.”
“Sorry, sir. I checked again. All the rooms are rented. There’s truly no room at the inn.”
“Not your fault, Watson.”
He flicked dust from the braiding of his jacket. “Lady Gantry remains downstairs in the dining room. She won’t be able to stay there long. I can let her stay in the carriage or she’ll have to be in the barn with the others.”
“Well, she might prefer that, sleeping with the calf she now owns. Good job on that.”
“Just lucky, my lord, that a woman was transporting the beast. That was none of my doing.”
Felton picked up his greatcoat. “Lady Gantry is always cold. Might as well make sure she’s warm and safe tonight.”
“You’re going to sleep in the barn?”
Chuckling, he slipped on his coat. “I’ve slept in worst places.”
“But this room, Lord Gantry, it shouldn’t go to waste.”
“No, it shouldn’t. You stay, Watson. You had too long a night last night awaiting me at the theatre. Sleep well. Just have the room ready for Lady Gantry to refresh herself at eight in the morning.”
The man looked as if he was about to jump onto the bed but held still. “You sure, sir?”
Felton looked at the cozy room. The lovely fire in the hearth, the warm bath that would’ve been fine for friends or a reuniting husband and wife. “You sleep well tonight. I have a calf and an estranged wife to attend.”
He headed down the stairs toward his dining room. Looking over the railing he saw the crowded tables being emptied. If this were Grenada or Jamaica, he’d have a remote hut or an out-of-the-way house ready and available.
Head shaking, he went into the private dining room. Cecilia was facedown near her plate. Well, plates. She did finish the beefsteak. “Why are you so stubborn?”
She startled. “Felton?”
“Looks like they are out of rooms for me too. May I escort you to the stables? Let me meet your cow.”
“Moomoo?”
“Yes, Moomoo Lance, as Amelia would say.”
Her eyes shifted and pure pleasure crossed her face. Her lips curled into the easiest smile he’d seen since they stepped onto the boat leaving Demerara.
“If I’d known a cow was what it took to give you joy, you would’ve had one by now.”
Her lips bloomed into a grin, and she laughed, gentle and soulful like a brass bell.
“You’re sleep deprived.” Suddenly, he didn’t feel so stupid for giving up his bed. “Come along, my dear. We may have to negotiate haystacks.”
When she stood, he wrapped her up in her abused purple redingote. His blueberry was in need of a new one.
Arm in arm, they made it out of the inn and onto the path heading to the barn.
“Normally, I would sleep for a day after a big commission.”
He stopped. Under the starlit sky, he found nothing better to do than pause and look at how everything reflected in her eyes.
“How many commissions have you done since returning from Demerara?”
“Four, counting the King’s Theatre and Drury Lane.”
