Page 33 of Aurelia

“Good day, Mary.”

“My lord.” She curtsied and gave the earl a smile that seemed extremely friendly and glanced curiously at Aurelia. “I was just about to send a messenger up to the castle, my lord. Lizzy Levitt gave birth not even an hour ago—another fine boy—and Des is inside celebratin’.”

Lord Crewe turned to Aurelia. “Let us go inside and drink to the child’s health.” He dismounted and Aurelia followed suit, sliding down clumsily before he could come around and lift her down. A lad seemed to spring up from nowhere to take their reins.

The taproom was crowded with celebrants of both genders and there was a murmur of welcome for the earl and more than a few inquisitive looks in Aurelia’s direction.

Lord Crewe strode toward a young man and clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Desmond. A fine son, I hear.”

“Aye. Thank ye, me lord.” The young man grinned dazedly up at the earl, making Aurelia suspect the glass in his hand wasn’t the first.

“And how are Lizzy and the babe?”

“Fit as a fiddle, sir. The wee’un, as well.”

Lord Crewe turned to the man behind the bar. “Two gins, Marcus. And another round for everyone.”

He handed one of the glasses to Aurelia and said in a quiet voice, “It is extremely potent, so have a care.” He lifted his own glass and said in a loud voice, “To Des, Lizzy, and—” he turned to the proud father and raised an eyebrow. “What is the lad’s name?”

“Er, we’ve named him Daniel, my lord.”

“—and Daniel!” The earl took a drink and so did all the others.

Aurelia had tasted gin on occasion and didn’t really care for it. But she knew it would be rude not to have any, so she took a small sip.

“How do you like it?” his lordship asked.

“It is… interesting.”

“A few sips only or I will have to carry you back on my horse with me, Miss Burton.”

Aurelia compressed her lips, as if that would stop the foolish leaping in her belly at his ridiculous threat. “I have had spirits before, my lord.”

“Pah! Southern spirits—mild like your fair clime,” he said, his eye sparkling. “This is proper island gin, distilled from sweet kelp.”

“Kelp? Is this another tall tale like the ducking stool, my lord?”

He laughed. “No. I promised no more teasing today, remember? Kelp gin is a specialty of the islands and there are as many recipes—slavishly guarded—as there are people who brew it.”

The woman who’d greeted them outside drifted up to their table.

“Mary, this is Miss Burton, my new artist. Miss Burton, this is Mrs. Mary Neel, the proprietress of the Sea Hag.”

Aurelia started at the name Neel. So, this was the earl’s lover.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Neel,” Aurelia said.

“How do ye like the homebrew, Miss Burton?” The older woman’s eyes crawled over Aurelia with more curiosity than politeness.

“It is delicious,” Aurelia lied, lifting the glass again and taking another tiny sip.

Mary Neel turned to his lordship, “I was wonderin’ if you’d given some thought to Mick and the cottage, my lord?”

“I will see him along with everyone else on my public day.”

“But, sir—”

“Not today, Mary.”