Romancing a Wallflower Page 11

  “Thank you, Lydia.” Lilian checked that the brake was set and then called for Cooper. The little dog had ventured around the partition but came running back when she whistled. She patted her lap, and he jumped into it. For a few long minutes, she looked around at the familiar sights. Her sister’s mare usually stayed in the next stall. She thought about visiting Ginger as she was leaving but decided to let Cooper become better acquainted with Danby first. Reaching up, she fondled her horse’s nose; he had, by then, turned from his manger and was leaning as far around the heel post as possible to whiffle at her. “Mind you do not get your legs caught in the chain, Danby, or Barney will put your headstall on. It seems that this will be a shorter visit than I had planned, but I will come again tomorrow and shall read to you.

  There was a thud as something heavy fell off the wall at the entrance of the stable. Cooper began to bark, interspersing his barking with a strange whine.

  “Stay,” she directed Cooper, but he had already run off in the direction of the sound.

  “I must see what that was, m’lady. I will be back in a moment.” Barney hurried to investigate the noise and soon returned, carrying the small dog. The groom stood before her, looking puzzled and scratching his head. “’Twas strange. I have never known the lantern to fall off the wall afore. Lucky for us it were out, or we could have had a fire. I secured it back, but I shall check it again before I relight it. Yon dog seemed most distressed, m’lady. Kept jumping up and down like a flea…then he brought this piece of paper to me.”

  “May I see that?” She reached for the weathered piece of paper. It had writing on it, but it was so faded, she could not make out the letters. The letters she could decipher were either muddled from the weather or maybe smeared by the hand that wrote it. “I cannot make this out. Are you able to read anything?”

  She waited for the groom to look. Barney shook his head, clearly distressed, and handed the note back to her. She remembered he did not know how to read, and her face burned at the realization of her thoughtlessness.

  “It was fortuitous it happened in daylight when the lantern is unlit,” she murmured aloud. An involuntary shudder shook her when she thought about what could have ensued. She was being foolish, she chastised herself. No harm had been done; Danby and all of the horses were safe. Nothing had happened. That cross would be too hard to bear. Lilian gave further thought to what Barney had said. “It does seem rather strange, Barney. I thought that one was too heavy to lift. I have never seen them moved. Grandpapa had it made just for the stable.”

  “No, m’lady. We can lift them, but I ’ave never had an occasion to do so.”

  “Would you please push my chair to the house? I think it might be difficult to push it myself back up the slope.” She offered a weak smile. “I fear my arm muscles have slackened while in London.”

  “Yes, of course, m’lady.” Barney took the brake off and pushed Lilian and Cooper to the rear portico, where Winston was already waiting. Barney gave a polite nod and headed back towards the stable.

  The door slowly swung closed behind them as Winston rolled her toward the dining room, where she then joined her family.

  No one noticed the dark-haired, moustached man, garbed in black, step from behind the shrubs. He put a pencil in his pocket and stared at the door for a moment before turning to leave.

  Chapter 12

  Harlow was glad he had not been alone on this journey to Cornwall. It was nice to have Max with him. Nearly four days on horseback reminded him of the vastness of his country. Luckily, his valet, Haydon, had ridden ahead and reserved accommodations at all the inns en route. Having rooms secured was a tremendous boon. With the Season ending, many families were returning to their country estates for a respite from the haze of London. He estimated they had fewer than five miles still to cover and should be there by ten of the clock despite these last miles being some of the hardest.

  “It is fortuitous that we have seen no signs of highwaymen during this ride. With many of the titled heading to their country homes, that has been a pleasant surprise,” he remarked to Max.

  “Very.” Max’s response sounded automatic. He glanced at his friend, assuring himself Max had not nodded off. “Max, Tintagel is but a few miles ahead. I propose we rest for a few hours when we arrive and then go out to the lookout site.” Max shot him a look of surprise that confirmed his friend’s mind had been elsewhere. “A penny for your thoughts,” he coaxed.

  “I was thinking about Maggie. Her birthday will be in three weeks. I am hoping to be there to celebrate it with her.” Max patted his pocket. “I have a present for her.”

  “I know you miss Maggie and baby Nathan. Did you buy jewellery?” he enquired. “A ring, perhaps?” He sounded inquisitive and was chafed by his own questions. The look of testiness on his friend’s face encouraged him to clarify his thoughts. “Considering our commission, I would ask if that was wise to bring on the road?” Max narrowed his eyes, and Harlow immediately regretted his admonishing tone. “I apologize. Forget what I said. No one would dare challenge you for your baubles, my friend.”

  Max gave a dismissive shrug of the shoulders.

  Without doubt, the gift would be jewellery. The man was besotted. A twinge of jealousy coursed through Harlow when he realized he had no birthdays, apart from his mother’s, to fret over.

  “You are wrong with what you are thinking—on both counts,” Max interrupted Harlow’s self-pity. “This is not jewellery, and I do not want to misplace it. It has happened before, so I am being careful with this gift.”

  “Now you have my attention. What could be small enough to have in your pocket, yet not a trinket?”

  “I penned her a poem, if you must know. It is simple enough. She challenged me to write one last year, and I have not done so until now. I plan to surprise her. Maggie has every jewel she could want.” Max gave Harlow a bemused smile and stared off into the distance. “The sun is peering through the clouds. It looks as if it will be a glorious day. It has been a lucky circumstance that the rain has come only at night these past days. Willow hates travelling in the rain, and I agree with her.”

  “Wait! You wrote your wife a poem?” Harlow asked, unable to hide his amusement. “Let me guess! Roses are red, violets are blue, you are my honey and I love you!” he remarked, pleased at his quip.

  “I would never have thought you a romantic, but that is good, Harlow. You have turned into Lord Byron before my eyes,” Max replied, his voice mocking. “Luckily, I need not copy that poem. I have created my own.”

  “I wait to hear this with bated breath.” Harlow laughed as he spoke.

  “Very well. I can share.” Max slid out the message, unfolded it and held it out in front of him. “I want you to know it is only because you are like a brother to me that I feel like sharing this. I swear, if you scoff at me…”

  “Get on with it,” Harlow cut in, smiling. The two men slowed their horses to a trot.

  Max drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Keep in mind, Harlow, I have never done this before…”

  ’Twas a night like the one when we first met,

  I can, for my life, I will never forget.

  Bright stars in the sky, they twinkled above,

  When we danced and kissed, and our hearts found love.

  They sent you from my life,

  My future, my love, it was spurned,

  My lips and my heart,

  Oh, the misery, it burned.

  Until the day that I found you,

  When our wounds were so deep,

  I fought to ignore you,

  The price—my heart, was too steep.

  Stars and moonlight lit up the sky,

  I found you, broken of body,

  A small dog by your side.

  A stalwart defender he was,

  My admiration it grew,

  Two hearts led the way, we finally knew,

  My life, my love,

  Maggie, so true, forever my bride.

  Harlow r
emained silent for a long moment. “Your wife will love it, Max.”

  “Thank you. Nonetheless, I had better still come home with a trinket for her,” he joked. “She will expect that.” He folded the paper and placed the poem in his pocket. “I can deny her nothing.”

  “Your poem tells your story. Maggie disappeared with nary a word and broke your heart. You found her when she needed a hero,” Harlow added, hoping he sounded consoling.

  Max smiled. The two men urged their mounts to go a little faster, but stayed at a reasonable pace, allowing conversation.

  “It has been nearly a year,” Harlow remarked, “yet it still baffles the mind that you found each other again.” He gave a hollow laugh. “I cannot mock your poem. I wish I had someone who would beg me for one.” His throat squeezed. He wanted to wish for love, but fear of scaring a ladylove stayed his heart.

  “I believe that anything is possible, Harlow,” Max whispered. “I think being leg-shackled to the right person could help heal your soul. It would seem your heart has already decided, so your mind may have to become accustomed to the notion.”

  “I am still not certain. My nightmares have increased.” Harlow tried to keep his tone light. Inside, he wondered if Max could be right. “Marriage had not entered my mind until you showed me that bet at White’s.”

  “You are saying the bet was a good thing?” Max nudged, taunting.

  “I would not go quite as far as that. I will draw someone’s cork if I find out who owns that bet,” Harlow replied.

  “You would hit the widow? Are your feathers that ruffled?” Max arched a brow, giving a cynical laugh.

  “No, of course I would not. When I find the man who wrote it, however, he will be in the suds.” He urged his horse forward. A large flock of geese suddenly flew from the thick woodland beside them. Max’s talent had fogged his senses. “We were not paying attention, and I fear we are being followed.”

  “The birds?” Max whispered.

  “Only a large animal or person would create such a hasty exodus from the trees. Look, there are hundreds of them. Let us ride, and swiftly. There is a fork under a mile yonder which circles to the left and then back to rejoin the road. I would rather see who is following us.”

  Thick copses of trees hugged the road on each side. It was the perfect place for highwaymen. Of all things, they did not need that distraction. Harlow silently chided himself for not paying attention and becoming preoccupied with his troubles. I should be more knowing than that, he thought. Fortunately, the way ahead promised more grassy pasture interspersed with smaller stands of trees.

  “The fork lies beyond the next bend.” He pointed and mouthed the words.

  Max nodded, and they urged their horses on at a clip. The fork was half a mile, just before Tintagel. They took it, riding across a field of high grasses, keeping dust to a minimum until they spied another large stretch of thick woodland they could use for cover.

  They had barely hidden when a rider in black spurred down the road in front of them, riding a dapple-grey horse. He appeared to be in a hurry; the horse’s neck was outstretched, and foam dripped from its mouth. The rider held his head low, covered by a wide-brimmed black hat. The only feature Harlow was able to see was a thin, distinctive moustache, and yet he felt sure there was something familiar.

  “Did you recognize him?” Harlow asked.

  “No, I did not. His moustache style is rather odd for this area. They are not generally so well-manicured,” Max responded. He angled his head in the rider's direction. “We should follow, I have a suspicion we will see him again.”

  “Agreed.” Harlow urged his horse forward, and the men once again set off at a fast pace, following the dust kicked up by the grey all the way into Tintagel.

  “I see nothing of the rider,” Harlow said as they drew rein outside an inn made of light-coloured stone and dark wood. “However, this is where we are staying. Haydon booked rooms for us here at The Merry Maiden. We should get some rest. De…Cressey is supposed to leave word of where to meet him. I believe it will be an encrypted message or similar.” They urged their horses towards the stable, beside the inn. A tall, thin young man with blond hair walked towards them.

  “Can I take yer horses, m’lords?” he offered. The two men dismounted and handed the reins to the ostler before unhooking their bags from their saddles. “I be Michael, the head ostler,” he continued. “Do you need the shoes checked? Smithy be over there.” He pointed to the blacksmith’s shop where a burly, bald-headed man hammered iron on the anvil with heavy thuds.

  “Thanking you,” Harlow responded. “Yes, have the smith look them over, if you will. Feed and water them as well. We may require them in a few hours, so they need to be well rested. Oh, and give them a rub down too, please.”

  “Yes, m’lords.” He stood there, waiting.

  “Here you go,” Harlow added, realizing that the boy was waiting for coin. He gave him a shilling. “Take good care of them.”

  “I will do that, m’lords.” Michael tugged the brim of his hat. Pocketing the largesse, he walked the two horses into the stable.

  “I hope Haydon booked two rooms. He set off shortly after DeLacey left to join his family, so he should have had time. If not, he was to leave me a note here, with instructions on where he secured lodgings instead,” Harlow commented as they walked towards the rear entrance of the inn.

  Max nudged him. “Do not turn around until we reach the door, but the grey horse we just chased is tied at the tavern across the street.”

  Harlow peripherally peered across the street as they opened the door to the inn and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to Max. They entered the inn and stood for a moment allowing their eyes to adjust to the dim light. Dark panelling covered the walls. Small-paned windows obscured by red curtains, allowed only partial light to enter. The smell of cheap tallow and ale greeted them.

  “Welcome to The Merry Maiden, m’lords!” A lanky, bespectacled innkeeper greeted them. His head was mostly bald except for a shock of white-blond hair that was combed over the front of his head. “’Ow can ’Oi assist ye this fine afternoon?”

  “Lord Harlow and Lord Worsley, landlord. I believe you have rooms in our names?” The innkeeper stepped behind the waist-high desk behind him and opened a ledger. He leaned low into the page, squinting to see the entries, travelling down the page with the tip of his finger.

  “Ah! Here it is. Me misses is upstairs cleaning ’er rooms. She will be down directly. Your man said ye would be here by this evening.”

  “Thank you. Have you a private parlour? We would appreciate a meal if you have anything suitable for two hungry travellers?” Max queried.

  “Yes, we do, sirs. Please to follow me. There is a lady using it. She is eating alone, but there are two large tables and ye can ’ave yer own. Will that be acceptable to ye?” the innkeeper inquired.

  “As long as she can tolerate our dusty appearance, we have no objection. Bring a pitcher of ale and two glasses, will you?” Harlow added. “What are you serving today?”

  “’Tis our day for stargazy pie; if ye like pilchards, ye will find this tasty. We also have fresh Cornish pasty and clam soup.”

  Harlow glanced at Max, who shrugged. “We will take the stargazy pie, and the Cornish pasty, and a platter of your yarg cheese and crackers.” He had discovered the yarg cheese on their last visit and enjoyed its light, creamy, cheddar taste.

  The innkeeper bobbed his head in deference and pointed to the door next to him. “I will let ye know when yer rooms are ready.”

  The two men entered the room. Harlow saw a flash of red satin, blonde hair and a black hat feather as another door across the room closed. They looked at one another. Although behind him, Max had seen the disappearing figure too. His eyebrows rose. Harlow scrambled across the room, banging into the chairs as he reached the door to look. Another door to the outside closed, and he ran quickly to open it. There was no sign of the woman.

  “Damnation, I see nothing.” H
e stared at Max, puzzled. “I was certain that was her. Perhaps I am placing more significance on these events than there can possibly be.” He closed the door, shaking his head. However, he could not ignore the chill that crossed his shoulders.

  “I know what you will say, Harlow. I thought that. Our horses may be being shod. If she is here, we will find out why later.” Max spoke slowly, “We do not want to draw undue attention to ourselves by haring through the streets.”

  “It seems too coincidental. I cannot shake the menacing feeling her presence just gave me. I am convinced that was her…” Harlow shook his head, trying to clear it. “You are right, as usual. We need to eat and rest. She cannot have seen us, which makes me believe the widow knows we are here but is unaware we have spotted her.”

  “If that was indeed her.” Max corrected.

  “As you will. We both saw the same, did we not? We know that figure was she. The thing we do not yet grasp is why the widow is here. DeLacey will meet with us soon. He may have more information. I believe we should discuss this further in our room after we eat.” Harlow dropped his voice to a low murmur. Fatigue was catching up with him.

  He pulled out a chair and sat down. Max followed. The door opened and what looked to be the innkeeper’s wife walked in with a maid behind her, both carrying trays. The maid looked to be an older child and stayed close to the woman.

  “M’girl, Lizzy, will serve ye yer ale, while I set your dinner, good sirs. Yer room is ready. Cleaned it meself. Yer things ’ave been taken upstairs. Your chambers be the third and fourth doors on the right. My, trade ’as been brisk today,” she added, smiling. “We ‘ave a small party in this day and are a bit behindhand. My apologies fer any inconvenience. The rooms all latch from the inside.” The short, pudgy woman helped Lizzy set the table.