Fifteen

FIFTEEN

Boots and Crow Hostelry

A dismal stretch of road between Westerham and London

Quarter past ten in the evening

Huddled beside Roxina on a hard, gouged, and scratched wooden bench beneath a grimy, cobweb-strewn window, Aubriella covertly surveyed the Boots and Crow common room. This far from the insipid fire struggling to cast its meager light and heat beyond the soot-entrenched hearth, the cold seeped into her bones from the flimsy wall behind her.

The other mail coach patrons also clustered as near to the insufficient flames as possible, which was to say, several feet away. Other conveyances, two in the last hour, had sought refuge in the small, rundown inn, and those passengers—some quite unsavory—had settled in for the night. By the time the mail coach limped into the slushy courtyard two hours ago, other guests had claimed the hostelry’s private chambers.

A broken wheel and lame horse sent the coach drivers to the only nearby lodgings. Once they learned nobody could repair the wheel until tomorrow and neither was there a replacement for the lame horse, they’d comforted themselves with tall mugs of dark ale.

Roxina slipped her hand into Aubriella’s and gave a soft squeeze. Leaning close, she whispered, “I don’t like the way those men are looking at us.”

Aubriella didn’t need to ask which men.

An unkempt, bearded pair repeatedly turned their drunken attention toward the women. God only knew how long they had lingered at the corner table, downing bottle after bottle of spirits. Boisterous, crude, and inebriated, they harassed the overworked barmaid, mocked the more refined gentlemen, and unabashedly ogled the women.

Their ribald jokes and coarse language brought blushes to more than one woman’s cheeks and earned glowers from the men, although no one dared to tell the ruffians to mind their manners or shut their mouths.

Aubriella and Roxina could either take refuge in the crowded and smoky common room, reeking of garlic, boiled cabbage, unwashed bodies, stale ale, and a sweet, foul unidentifiable odor or stay in the coach overnight. At least inside the shambles of a building, she and Roxina were at less risk of freezing to death.

Ravishment, on the other hand?

That might’ve been a real possibility if there weren’t so many other patrons sprawled about the taproom. In truth, Aubriella wasn’t certain she and Roxina were safe. Those foul brutes ogling her didn’t seem the type to bother with laws. One wretch, sporting a jagged scar from his eye to where it disappeared into his grungy beard, winked at her and smiled, exposing rotten teeth.

Aubriella averted her gaze, and he guffawed.

Swallowing her fright, she took stock of their situation.

They only needed to get through the night, and they’d be on their way first thing in the morning. Westerham was a mere twenty miles from London. Surely, they’d traveled half that distance today. As long as the roads were passable and no other mishaps befell them, she and Roxina should make London tomorrow midmorning.

She flattened her hand over her churning belly. Her reticule formed a lump where she’d pinned it to her chemise before boarding the coach. Thank God she’d had the foresight to do so. Her gown and cloak draped over her redingote hid the bulge, but given the unsavory characters dispersed around the shabby establishment, fear still tiptoed up and down her spine.

In hindsight, she oughtn’t to have departed Mabel and George’s in such haste. A day or two more wouldn’t have made that much difference to her newly hatched scheme for independence.

In truth, staying and secluding herself would have given her time to plan her escape and future. Unlike her carefully thought out and enacted scheme to sneak into university, for the first time in her life, she’d succumbed to an imprudent, emotional impulse, and now her impetuosity had also endangered her dearest friend.

Lifting her nose and presenting her profile to the obnoxious duo, who continued to leer at her and Roxina, she bit her lip. This unexpected and unfortunate delay in their journey not only put them in an untenable situation, it might prevent their escape to Aunt Astrid’s.

Mayhap, as Aubriella often vanished for hours at house parties, no one would question her absence tonight or tomorrow.

That still left her to get through the night unaccosted.

She’d refused food and drink because there was no way in Hades that she would reveal she possessed a few coins. She wouldn’t put it past the assembled riffraff to rob her in her sleep. Which was why she had no intention of sleeping, or at the very least, she and Roxina would slumber in shifts.

“I’m sorry, Zina.”

Despite her exhaustion and anxiety, Roxina gave her a sharp look. “Whatever for?”

“For dragging you into my muddle.” Aubriella spread a hand to indicate their surroundings. “For this. For not at least asking the cook for a piece of cheese and bread. An apple or two.”

“Fiddlesticks and flimflam.” Roxina squeezed her hand again. “I have a mind of my own. No one could’ve known the weather would wreak havoc on the roads, that the coach wheel would need repairing, or that one horse would go lame. Though I’m not surprised, considering the poor beast had to pull the laden coach through thick snow.”

Everything she said was true, but that didn’t ease Aubriella’s guilt.

Roxina marshaled a smile and changed the subject. “I bet Jack was fit to be tied when you won the wager.”

“I should have known he never intended to honor it.” Closing her eyes, Aubriella leaned her head back, the motion pushing her bonnet forward. This unforeseen delay gave her time to ponder her future and the Ladies of Opportunity .

And to think about Jack.

His handsome face had invaded her mind the second she’d lowered her eyelids.

When had her feelings transferred from irritation and annoyance to something much warmer? Much more dangerous to her heart? She’d never had to guard herself against affection before, and perhaps that was why the wily emotion had sneaked up on her.

What she felt for Jack Matherfield most assuredly was not aggravation or exasperation.

But that didn’t matter.

Not anymore.

Smelling the odoriferous man before he spoke and swallowing a gag, she opened her eyes. He stood a mere two feet in front of her and Roxina.

Lord, above.

When was the last time he’d bathed or donned clean clothing?

A sloppy, drunken grin splitting his unwashed face and bits of food embedded in his crusty beard, he asked, “Would you pretty lad-dees care to join me an’ me friend?” He veered his attention to his table, where his eager chum regarded them with unconcealed lust. “We couldn’t help but notice you ’aven’t eaten. We’d be happy t’ share our meal.”

Hell would freeze over first.

“No, thank you, but your kindness is appreciated.” Aubriella kept her tone coolly pleasant as she forced the insincere words past her lips. She fashioned a small smile. Who knew what might set this blighter off? “We’re waiting for someone. They’ve been delayed.” She waved her hand toward the dusty window. “The inclement weather, you know.”

Taking Aubriella’s cue, Roxina nodded and squinted into the darkness beyond the dirty windowpane. Snow pelted the glass, which didn’t portend well for an early morning departure. “Indeed. They should have arrived by now.”

A sinister sneer replaced his buffoonish grin.

“There ain’t no one meetin’ you. You were on the mail coach.” He loomed over them, hands fisted at his hips. “You think yer too good fer us, uppity wenches?”

Resisting the urge to lick her lower lip, Aubriella scanned the faces of the patrons, nearly all staring in her direction. Not a single person, including the innkeeper, could hold her gaze.

Cowards, the lot.

Heart pounding, Aubriella shrank against the wall as the brute reached for her. Unexpectedly, his eyes rounded in astonishment. He dropped his hand to his side, remaining motionless.

Jack stepped from behind his broad back, a pistol in one hand and a blade pressed against the cur’s bull-like neck. “She told you she was waiting for someone. We’ve arrived.”

Standing in the center of the taproom, apparently not the least bothered that he pointed a pistol at the other infuriated sod, Shelby Tellinger winked at the barmaid. “Be a love and bring a pot of tea, bread, cheese, and whatever else you have on hand that’s fresh and vermin free.”

He waved the pistol toward the other lout. “The Cowen brothers were just leaving, and we’ll take their table.”

How did Shelby know who they were?

The frazzled barmaid gave a cautious nod before disappearing into the kitchen.

Not a single patron moved, their focus fixated on the scene playing out before them.

“The ‘ell we are.” The miscreant half-rose, but Shelby pointed the gun at the bounder’s face, and he slowly lowered himself into his chair again.

“Did I fail to mention my name.?” A lethal tone Aubriella had never heard laced his voice. “Tellinger. Shelby Tellinger.”

The transformation in the men, including the blackguard Jack held at knifepoint, would’ve been comical if Aubriella could have drawn a breath to laugh. Truth be told, terror riveted her to the bench and stalled her breathing. On the other hand, her pulse raced faster than a horse competing in the Royal Ascot.

Evidently, the troublemakers knew something Aubriella did not, for they wasted no time tossing a few coins on the table and skulking from the inn despite the snowfall.

Why had the men reacted the way they had to Shelby?

She slid a gaze to Roxina, staring at Shelby as if he had two heads from which sprouted four scarlet horns. Grinning, Shelby sank onto one of the newly vacated chairs and sent his flinty gaze around the common room. He waved a hand. “As you were.”

The weary patrons went back to their activities, most behaving as if nothing remarkable had just occurred.

Jack didn’t tear his gaze from the duo until the door closed. He crossed his arms and stared at Aubriella, his expression inscrutable. “We are going to warm ourselves and eat, ladies. Then we are leaving. The horses should have rested enough by then. Understood?”

Aubriella opened her mouth to argue, but the thunderous look in Jack’s hazel eyes made her snap her mouth shut. He extended his hands and helped them up. He released Roxina as soon as she stood, but held Aubriella immobile as Roxina crossed to the table and sat.

The serving wench returned with a laden platter. She placed a stretcher with sliced brown bread, cheese, and what appeared to be meat pies on the scarred tabletop. A teapot and chipped teacups followed.

Jack turned his back to the curious travelers. “You shall have the entire ride, seated before me on a horse, Aubrie, to explain your idiotic behavior.”

“I owe you no explanation, Jack.” He wasn’t her keeper, even if he had rescued her. “Besides, don’t you have urgent business in London that demands your attention?”

“I do, and that is why we are not returning to the Templetons but continuing to London tonight.” Jack flared his nostrils, and his cheekbones stood out as harshness contorted the planes of his face. “I am barely keeping my temper under control. You and Roxina were on the verge of being ravished. Your stupidity not only endangered you, but your friend. For once in your life, do not argue with me, or so help me God, I shall find an empty room and paddle your bottom.”

Aubriella couldn’t prevent her jaw from sagging.

How dare he?

Who did he think he was?

She wasn’t a child he could take to task and spank.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She tilted her chin in defiance. “Besides, there are no vacant rooms.”

He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do. Not. Push me, Aubriella. I am at the end of my tether.” His expression softened, and he caressed her cheek. “I was terrified for you, and I blamed myself for your leaving. If anything had happened to you…”

He closed his eyes, his features etched in agony—as if he truly cared.

For once, Aubriella didn’t have a cutting riposte. For as long as she lived, she’d remember his face at that moment. And when he opened his eyes, her soul quivered from the desolation shining there.