Chapter Twelve

Red had said they could not take the thief's wagon unfortunately which meant by the time they had caught a stagecoach to St Austell, her feet and back were sore. The wagon would have only saved them some two miles, but he'd told Hannah it was likely stolen and they would not want to drive through the town with a stolen horse. Besides the horse was an old withered thing. Better to let the man awaken and travel on his way, Red had said.

Hannah folded her arms and lowered her chin. Red was giving a lot of orders. It should not bother her. After all, what else was he here for but to get her safely to London? Admittedly the journey had not been as smooth as she had hoped so far, but they were both safe, tucked into the stagecoach on their way once more and after all, she was no weak lady. She had climbed mountains with her father. A few miles on foot were nothing.

The day was wearing on so that the confines of the coach grew shadowed. She could not see the woman opposite so much as hear and smell her. Hannah had observed her well enough earlier to know that the noise came from heavy silk skirts and feathers atop her head. And the scent was symptomatic of her being too liberal with her scent—a deep, musky fragrance that she supposed was likely recommended for older ladies but was not pleasant to anyone.

In Hannah's own muddy gown with no fragrance or plumes of feathers, she hardly looked like she belonged in the stagecoach. Were it not for Red, they likely would not have let her board. Somehow the man looked every bit the gentleman, in spite of their adventures.

The other gentleman travelling with them—the woman's husband, she assumed—dressed as well as Red, albeit in a slightly neater fashion. Their three children had started the journey rambunctious, throwing themselves about the seats until they were too tired to do anything other than slump onto their parents' laps.

She glanced at Red's profile, his expression uninterested and vague. He showed no signs of tiredness outwardly, but she suspected by the occasional movement in his body, he was feeling as stiff and as sore as she.

The occupants of the carriage exhaled a combined sigh of relief as they drew into the town, and the stagecoach came to a stop outside the coaching inn. The link-boys dashed out, holding out their lit torches and allowing them all to exit the coach easily in the darkening evening. Next came a bustle of movement as a maid clambered down from on top of the coach and the driver and footman began unloading the luggage. Hannah had insisted the stone remain with them so they only had to collect their meagre bags before finding themselves a room.

Having only existed on a light meal at the last town, her stomach grumbled at the scent of cooked food as they entered the inn. She ducked under one very low beam and glanced back to see Red do the same, although he had to force himself much lower.

"Let us find a room, then we shall eat."

She nodded, happy with the plan and too weary to comment. Red arranged for a room, declaring them to be brother and sister before requesting a private dining room. She did find herself the subject of a quick glance over which was quickly distilled by Red handing over a sizeable sum of money for their best service. The innkeeper tucked it quickly away into his stained apron and handed over a key. He leaned in.

"We've got a washer woman who can have that dress cleaned," he hissed. "She's as good as any you'll find in town."

Red nodded and thanked the man. Hannah's cheeks flamed. She must look worse than she thought. Her mortification lasted even as Red unlocked the door to a modest-sized room with two beds that were neatly made with blankets and surprisingly fluffy pillows. Two windows looked over the courtyard. She looked out and saw the men stowing away the stagecoach and unhitching the horses for the night. She rather envied them already being tucked away in a stable and brushed down. Goodness knows, her hair likely needed a good brush, and she certainly desired a quick wash,

Red arranged their bags and lit the candles upon the fireplace before propping the stone up against one wall. The low eaves of the roof forced him to duck throughout most of this. "I'll get a maid to light the fire once we eat. It is a cold night." He motioned up and down her. "Do you wish to change?"

"That is very diplomatic of you."

"It is?"

"Well, it's a polite way of saying I am an utter mess and in need of clean clothes."

"You are in need of clean clothes." He ran his gaze over her. "But you are not an utter mess."

She puffed a breath over her face in an attempt to dispel the heat in her cheeks that had not left since the innkeeper had commented on her appearance. The hint of a smile on Red's generous mouth made her insides buckle. Gone was any hunger, replaced with the oddest warm, bubbling sensation.

She turned away before he could see her embarrassment. "If you give me a moment, I shall wash and join you downstairs."

He nodded and stepped out wordlessly. She hastened over to the wash bowl resting on a washstand lined with blue and white tiles and poured out some water. Resisting the urge to dunk her head into it, she splashed some of the cool water over her face and chest and drew in a long breath. She peeked into the mirror above and grimaced. Considering the candle-light was flattering, she looked terrible. What she would look like in full daylight, she did not want to consider.

Hannah took the time to wash her body and change into her last clean gown. The one from the previous night was crinkled and stained from the rain and mud. She hoped this washer woman was as good as the innkeeper had implied.

Slinging the garment over a chair, she moved more quickly as her stomach began to rumble again. That was better. At least she understood what a rumble meant. Far better than that oddly warm sensation in her stomach. She might find Red attractive. Handsome even. She might like the idea of kissing him. However, she did not like her body reacting in ways that she could not control. It was entirely without reason that the disagreeable man should make her stomach do such things.

At least when she joined him in the private dining room, she felt a little more in control with her hair neatened and a clean gown on.

Well, she did for a moment. One brief, lovely moment.

That was, until he smiled at her. Until his gaze ran from her slippers to her carefully pinned up hair. Until his eyes softened.

Then the warm sensation was back with vengeance. It no longer lingered in her stomach but flowed through her, making her feel as though she had just drunk a large quantity of wine. Her limbs were soft and no longer part of her. How she covered the distance between the door and the table, she did not know. When she dropped into the chair, she felt as though she weighed more than a stallion.

"I have ordered food. I hope you don't mind."

Her stomach growled, and she put a hand over it, as though that might stop it.

He chuckled. "I guess you do not."

She smiled away her embarrassment. "It has been a long day."

"And we have not eaten much," he finished. "I am glad to be out of that coach." He smothered a yawn. "If I ever have children, remind me not to travel anywhere with them. Ever."

"It cannot be much fun for them, but they were exhausting."

"Likely because they're not used to their parents disciplining them."

"No, neither of them seemed to have any say over them. They are likely always with a governess and a nanny."

"I had both, but I certainly knew to listen to my father."

Hannah tilted her head to better view the softness that lingered on his face as he spoke of his father. It was one of the few times his lips were not quirked in arrogance or disdainful amusement. "He must have been a good father."

"The best. He was not one to relinquish his duties to others. He took a daily interest in my brother and me."

"I had both a nanny and a governess, but I will confess I did not find much use for a governess. When I was twelve, my fifth governess declared me unteachable and left."

"Unteachable?"

"I corrected her one time too many." Hannah chuckled as she recalled the woman's face dropping in horror as once more, an admittedly pretentious twelve-year-old proved her wrong. She could not deny she still had her moments when she could not help but speak up and correct people, but she was much better at doing it without causing offence these days.

"So you were too clever for them," he commented. "Your father travelled a lot, you said. How did you occupy yourself when he was away?"

"I learned to run the house and of course studied when I could. Father would bring home new books and artifacts all the time. I'm sure I learned more in those years than all the years previous. Sometimes I would be allowed to go with him but usually only to Scotland or Wales."

The warmer memories faded somewhat as she recalled begging her father not to go. She understood his need to find out more, she really did. She could hardly claim to be any less hungry for knowledge, but at the same time, she had so longed for more time with her father. There had to be a better way of balancing it, surely?

The bang of a door jolted her from such thoughts, and she focused on the servant as she brought in two bowls of stew with a great, big wedge of bread on the side. Any thoughts of her father or angry governesses fled as she dipped her spoon into the steaming bowl and brought juicy chunks of beef and carrots to her mouth. Hannah took a delicate sip, only to see Red watching her with mild amusement.

"What is it?"

"There is no need for manners. We are both ravenous, and I can assure you, I intend to eat like a beast." He tore a chunk of bread off, dunked it in the stew and shoved it into his mouth, grinning around the piece as he chewed.

Hannah tentatively tore off a piece of bread too, her stomach giving a squeeze at the feel of soft bread and crumbling crust. She dipped it into the stew and took a bite. When Red's face did not turn into a mask of disgust, she became bolder and took a bigger bite. A groan escaped her.

The way Red's eyes flared startled her. She could not be sure why it happened but his expression turned into something other than amusement, though who knew what it was. Sometimes she wished she had spent less time studying history and more time studying human emotions. At least she would understand people better.

Casting her gaze down, she concentrated on the food until she could be sure his face had turned back to normal. When she looked up again, he was tucking into the bread and stew as though it might vanish it at any moment.

She giggled.

"What is it?"

"If anyone had told me a few weeks ago that I would be eating with an earl—a smuggling earl, no less—and that he was going to be eating like an utter beast, I would have called them a liar."

"Well if anyone had told me I would be trekking across the country carrying a stone with an attractive bluestocking, I would have also called them a liar."

Hannah opened her mouth but whether to protest the bluestocking or attractive part she did not know. She was hardly a ravishing beauty nor was she a beast, and she conceded she was entirely bluestocking material. If that put her in leagues with informed, intelligent women, she could not complain.

When she glanced in his eyes and saw the half-smile on his lips, she knew it had all been intended as a compliment.

How odd.