Page 10 of For The Love Of A Widow

The coach driver—and the barkeep—were mistaken, or Lord Percival was losing his senses. Something Daniel didn’t want to contemplate. He had much yet to learn from the older man.

His fist tightened and then released. Rushing to conclusions would help no one, especially Daniel.

Daniel pivoted toward the inn to locate someone who could give him answers or direct him to the nearest mail coach stop. The last several months working with Lord Percival had filled a part of him that had been empty for many years. It had given him purpose, and a reason to wake up each day for something other than finding a high-stakes gaming hell and a bottle of scotch. It was almost like having his father back. He’d spent much time with both men in his youth, as his father and the earl had been close friends, sharing everything from hunting trips to holiday celebrations. And, in turn, Daniel and the earl’s daughter had spent years gallivanting about their country estates and exploring the gardens of their townhomes.

He was uncertain what had brought the woman to mind as she’d been away from London many years.

The crowd from the stagecoach had settled, with anyone who hadn’t departed the inn courtyard immediately was seated and enjoying a meal or a tankard of ale. A barmaid assisted the man behind the counter, carrying plates to and fro.

Daniel spotted the driver in a dimly lit corner of the room, his face lowered as he continued to scrutinize and write in his log.

He’d gained the same answer from the barkeep earlier, so Daniel turned, continuing into the foyer of the inn in search of someone with useful information.

An elderly woman, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, and her greying hair tied back in a severe knot, stood behind the counter, a welcoming smile of greeting on her face. “Good day, sir. I am the proprietor’s wife. Do you need a room?”

“No.” Daniel returned her smile, pushing a lock of black hair behind his ear. “I was sent to collect a package coming from Dover. However, the barkeep informed me The George is not expecting the mail coach, only the stagecoach today, and the driver told me he only had passengers and luggage.”

“That is true,” she confirmed. “The mail coach does not stop here. I am sorry you were misinformed.”

“That is not your fault, ma’am.” Daniel nodded in thanks. “One last question. Does the mail coach stop anywhere near here?”

The woman tapped her finger against her chin in thought. “We drop our mail off at a building about fifteen minutes’ walk north of here, past the market.” She grabbed a paper and a nub, hurriedly noting an address. “Here. The footman in the courtyard can get you headed in the right direction.”

Daniel took the paper she held out to him. “Thank you again.” He inspected the address while the woman hurried back to her duties. The name and direction of a solicitor’s office greeted him. Percival was not the type to confuse something as simple as the location of a delivery, though Daniel need remember that the man was aging by the day. Even more so since seeing his only daughter off to war when she’d decided to follow her new husband. A prickle of sorrow bubbled up. Daniel was quick to press it back down where it belonged. It only gave way to the betrayal he’d thought he conqueror long ago, rising and sparking his anger and disappointment with a woman he’d thought he knew—until she left with little more than a half-hearted explanation. No, he would not think of the past…especially her.

“I believe the package you were sent to collect is I, Daniel.”

He froze, afraid to turn and dispel the hope that suddenly overtook him and extinguished his anger. It was as if a pail of icy water had been dumped over his head. It could not be her. Percival would have told him if she’d returned to England. His lungs burned, begging for air to relieve the strain from his frantically beating heart.

If he turned and was not greeted by the angelic, heart-shaped face framed by brown curls and featuring intense, deep blue eyes, he’d perish on the spot. Despite his heartache and unease, he wanted nothing as much as he wanted to turn and see her standing behind him. How many times had he thought he’d spotted her across a crowded ballroom, or traveling in a passing carriage down Bond Street, or promenading in Hyde Park?

He’d lost count of the number of times he’d pushed his way through a flock of people or turned his horse about and given chase on his way to the racetrack—but every time had resulted in the same end. A startled woman, and Daniel appearing the lunatic on his way to Bedlam.

Not today—in this crowded inn. He would not appear the man lacking in senses and cause a spectacle of himself.

Daniel had aged since Lettie had fled England, that fate was not reserved solely for her father. As the years passed, his longing for her—for the connection and bond they were supposed to have—erased the old him, only adding to his sense of loneliness.

Slowly, he turned…certain that disappointment once again awaited him.

CHAPTER 4

L ettie pulled at her bonnet, attempting to hide her shorn locks from his view and then tugged at her coat, a size too small for her. It had been so long since she’d felt even a prickling of doubt with regards to her appearance. On the battlefield, no one gave her a second glance as long as she tended to the wounded, kept the cooking fire blazing, and mended uniforms.

Unthinkable that the mere presence of a man from her past would have Lettie acting the insecure debutante of her misguided youth. Not misguided, never misguided, she chastised herself.

There was nothing more she could do about her haphazard appearance. She was a soldier’s wife—was being the operative word. Now, she was nothing more than a soldier’s widow. She’d experienced things far worse than a crowded taproom at The George and faced harrowing circumstances far greater than the scrutiny of these strangers.

She would not be ashamed of her appearance; yet still, embarrassment heated her cheeks.

Even standing here before a man she’d once thought she would spend her life with, she should not hide herself in shame.

Lettie straightened her shoulders. Confronting the man she’d jilted did not frighten her. She had no regrets about her choice to marry Gregory and follow him into battle. In fact, at the tender age of twenty, it had been the only thing she’d been certain of.

The man before her was a drunkard, a scoundrel, and a gambler—or he had been when she left.

Daniel Greaves, Lord Linwood, her childhood friend and confidante, turned with agonizing slowness.

When his glare settled on her, she noted the stiff line of his jaw and the tense set of his shoulders. Lettie didn’t remember him being so…hardened. He’d been untroubled and lighthearted in their youth, only concerned with things that affected him. He’d spent each day in search of pleasure and fun, ignoring his duties and her.