Page 14 of Bound By The Christmastide Moon

Without another thought, she collected her cloak from the wardrobe and rushed from her room, down the servant’s stairs, and out the back door by the kitchens to the stables beyond. Blessed was she that her dear friends, Felicity and Tressa, had spent so many years showing her ways to get around Tetbery without being noticed. Even if her aunt or a servant caught her, Mallory had no intention of slowing down.

She needed to follow Lord Lichfield and discover exactly why he’d lied to her…and what else he hid from her.

She crossed the garden quickly, the early-afternoon wind catching her curls and pulling them out behind her as she ran. By the time she reached the stables—and the warmth within—she’d slipped her arms into her cloak and was fastening the buttons.

“Lady Mallory,” a young stable hand stuttered, obviously taken aback by her appearance. “M’lady, what can I do ye for?”

“I need a horse.”

The boy only stood, gawking at her as if she’d asked for an elephant to be readied.

“You do have a horse I can ride, do you not?” she prodded. “Miss Felicity told me—”

At the mention of his mistress, the lad jumped into action. “O’course. Where ye be need’n ta go?”

“I thought I’d see about purchasing a Christmastide gift for my mother,” Mallory said. Not a complete fib as she’d thought to stop in one of the larger towns on the way to her family estate to collect a few gifts for her family. “I know the village is near, but I rarely visited town during my stays in Bocka Morrow.”

“It be that way, m’lady.” He nodded in the direction Lord Lichfield had ridden. It was just as Mallory guessed. “’Bout a ten-minute ride, it be. I can prepare the carriage for ye.”

“No, that is not necessary.” And would garner far more attention than Mallory wanted. Her aunt would not allow her to follow Lord Lichfield. “Just a horse will do.”

If the stable hand had any qualms about sending a lady into the Cornwall countryside—alone—he did not speak of it. Mallory silently thanked Felicity and Tressa for their independent ways as the servants were likely used to women going about unchaperoned.

In quick order, a light brown mare was led into the main room of the stables, and a block set down to assist her onto the sidesaddle. Again, she counted her blessings that Aunt Hettie approved of women on horseback. She was proficient atop a horse and would have little trouble making it to town. She need only catch up to the earl.

Losing sight of him during his ride would only make matters difficult.

Properly mounted, Mallory turned to the stable hand below.

“Sir.” She smiled, hoping her charms would be enough.

“Yes, m’lady?” he asked readily.

“I won’t be gone long. If you’d be so kind as to keep mention of my departure to yourself, I would be ever so grateful.” When the lad’s stare darkened in question, she continued, “You see, I am going to town to buy a gift for my aunt, as well, and I desperately wish to surprise her.”

“I see,” he whispered back as if they shared a grand secret. “I won’t be breath’n so much as a word ta no one, m’lady.”

“Very good,” she said, taking the reins from him. “I shall return as quickly as possible.”

The lad nodded, and Mallory nudged at the mare, pulling at the reins until they were out of the stables and starting across the meadow—not toward the castle but the seaside town of Bocka Morrow.

Chapter 6

Bocka Morrow’s tiny tavern was nestled in the heart of the fishing district close to the docks with its sullied white paint peeling from the siding, and the good cheers and lighthearted conversations floating outside to where Silas stood waiting for the groom to take his horse. The salty sea breeze of the waterfront pushed the clouds toward the far horizon and away from Tetbery Estate. And within the dim confines of the local public house, The Crown & Anchor, Silas suspected he’d find what he sought—at least for the moment.

Everything about the lowly tavern screamed for Silas to beware.

But what was a man to do when he was in a foreign fishing village, a long way from home, and in need of lodging?

The Mermaid’s Kiss had been full to brimming with the ton coming from far and wide to witness his cousins’—Lady Tamsyn and Lady Morgan—wed, and he’d been turned away outright. Which was likely preferable, as his coin would gain him much more at The Crown & Anchor anyways.

He only hoped it wasn’t a knife in his back or bed mites under his skin.

A lad ran forth from the side of the tavern, his hair tussled and in need of a trim, his shirt with more holes than the cheese Silas had dined on the previous evening, and no boots to speak of. The elements alone in Bocka Morrow were enough to have Silas thanking the heavens above he’d brought his thick wool coat as opposed to only his finely tailored jackets. The boy was certain to catch his death and be in need of a physician before long.

“Welcome back, m’lord,” the groom called with a toothy grin. “Old Havers be give’n away a right fine gin in the tavern.”

Silas wanted to ask what the boy knew of “right fine gin”—but the question went unspoken in favor of a far more vital one. “Where are your boots and coat, lad?”