Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Mason had been to the Bounty Inn once before and remembered it to be a particularly rowdy place. The faded sign was hardly legible above the old awning. Right alongside the river Thames, it was a place for sailors and those who worked at the docks. Precisely the kind of people who might have some ties to the underground society of London.

Inside, the tables were already full to the brim and Mason and Miss Owen found themselves a small table on the far end of the room. Isabella was looking around her as if she had stepped into another country altogether.

It was no surprise to Mason that she'd never been in an establishment like that one before. Her eyes brushed over everything carefully, taking it all in as well as she could.

He would keep a close eye on her. Sailors were not polite company, and Isabella was used to the company of the upper class. So he assumed.

Around them, men swore and laughed loudly, cracking jokes that were never meant for the ears of women. The women who were at the inn that day were not exactly members of high society, either. A lot of them were working women who had just started their shifts.

"I'll take the lead," Mason assured her.

Isabella gave him a silent nod. Mason wanted to push her, to see how far he could go before she pulled out of their deal.

"Excuse me," Mason said, getting the attention of a nearby sailor. "We're the Milburns. We're newlyweds, and we're hoping you could help us discover this beautiful city."

"You sound like you're from London," the man said, eyeing them closely.

"My wife and I are from the country," Mason said. "This is our first time in a large city."

"You've chosen an odd choice for a place to drink," the sailor said.

"Well, we're here for adventure after all, aren't we, honey?" Miss Owen said, taking him by surprise.

The sailor eyed them closely before motioning for Miss Owen to move up before collapsing into the seat beside her with a loud thud.

"You're going to need some drinks," the sailor said, motioning to the barkeep.

Like that, their first conversation for the day took off. Mason wanted to bring up the duke's attempted assassination to see how people responded to it.

"How'd you hear about that?" the sailor asked. "You've just arrived in London."

"Everyone's talking about it," Miss Owen said.

She was pushed to the side by the sailor's large body, and her discomfort was visible on her face. After the first drink, though, she loosened up.

"What am I doing sitting here next to you?" Miss Owen eventually asked. "I should be next to my new husband!"

She wormed her way past the sailor and came to sit down beside Mason. He figured it was the perfect opportunity to push her even further and shuffled as close to her as he could.

"You're an agreeable couple," the sailor said before guzzling the last of his drink.

"Aren't we?" Miss Owen said, keeping up the charade.

She kept it up since then. Miss Owen did not slip up once. She continued to talk about him as if he were her husband, slapping him lightly on the shoulder as she laughed. He was impressed with her. The afternoon was not at all what he expected it to be, but it was quickly becoming quite the adventure.

It wasn't a strange land or a remote forest of some kind. But it was a chance to pretend he had a different life entirely, and he was enjoying it more than he'd anticipated, which left an odd sensation in his mind and heart.

When the barkeep passed them, Miss Owen surprised him yet again by stopping the man.

"Another round for us, please," she ordered.

"Are you sure?" he whispered as he turned his head.

"We're blending in," she answered with a wink.

It wasn't long before they were invited to join another larger table. There, the topic of the assassination attempt was brought up again. Miss Owen blended in with the crowd as best as she could. If she was uncomfortable with anything, she didn't show it.

There was something about them that afternoon that seemed to entice people into starting conversations with them. They moved fluidly through the room joining conversations as if they had always known them. Miss Owen made sure to touch him just often enough to make it seem as if they were a couple.

She spoke easily with everyone around her, and did a good job of pretending as if their behavior and foul language didn't bother her. He had noticed her pinching her skirt a few times beneath the table to stop herself from showing visible shock.

He wondered if he should have felt bad for putting her in that position.

As the conversations progressed, the theories about the assassination became wilder, too.

"I think he arranged it on himself," one man said. "For the publicity."

It took every ounce of self-control for Mason not to burst into laughter then. Thankfully, another man with more brandy in him did it on his behalf.

"You've always been mental," the man said in response. "The Duke of Trent is a good man. He would never take part in such a ridiculous scheme."

Within an hour, the entire inn was talking about it. There wasn't a single table that wasn't discussing possibilities or ideas around the assassination attempt. Mason wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

At least they all seemed to be enjoying it. Even the women were bringing their ideas to the table, feeling free to argue with the men about it. It seemed as if normal boundaries were blurred, which was fun, but Mason also worried about where that might lead if boundaries were blurred any further.

Miss Owen was charming and friendly and pretty to look at. It was the perfect combination to liven up a room filled with men.

What it did for Mason was make him feel some sense of pride for being at her side. As far as the men in that room were concerned, he was her husband. And many men had already stopped by to tell him how fortunate he was.

"You got really lucky with this one," a man said quietly to him. "She's got it all. Don't hold it against me."

"I won't, but tread carefully," Mason warned him. And he felt as if he meant it.

There was a protective nature within him that he hadn't anticipated, and it had complicated his evening. He had hoped his plans for the day would push her away, but she seemed to be throwing herself into it, and that meant he was responsible for her since he'd been the one to bring her there.

"I think we need to move on to the next place," Mason said quietly. "We're drawing too much attention here."

"I don't think we've been here long enough," Miss Owen disagreed. "If these people have a few more drinks, they'll start talking more freely."

"There's no reason to believe they even have any information," Mason argued.

"Some of them have been suspicious, and you know it," she said. "Besides, a few more people just walked through the door, and we need to speak with them, too."

She was having too much fun. So much fun that she didn't want to leave and that was a potential problem. He couldn't speak too strongly against her as it might ruin their faade of being husband and wife.

Whatever he was going to say, he needed to be gentle. He didn't get the chance.

"You two!" a man called from a nearby game of cards. "We have two slots open, and you seem like the perfect candidates."

Mason was about to decline when Miss Owen agreed. She took his hand and pulled him toward the table. The moment their skin touched it was as if all concerned thought had been siphoned from his mind.

He followed her happily then and took his seat beside her at the table where the game was taking place. There were major risks, but she seemed to have him under a spell then.

"Right," the man said. "Let's get to it, then."

Mason watched Miss Owen carefully as she took her cards and contemplated them. Just as she had been a great actress, pretending to be his wife, she played Whist perfectly, too. She clearly knew what she was doing.

It wasn't long before the man in front of them regretted asking her to join their game at all.

"This is fun," Miss Owen said quietly.

"It is," Mason agreed. "But we need to get to the next place."

"Oh, honey!" she said louder with a chuckle. "You're just such a sore loser."

Miss Owen revealed her cards that made her the winner of that round. The room filled with the perfect mix of quiet cheers and groans. They'd already had a few drinks since they'd arrived, and he heard the effects of that when she laughed.

He could feel the effects of their errand, too. While it was far less than he usually drank at inns like those, there was something about the atmosphere that gave him a buzz. He might have liked to stay that way, but they weren't getting any information.

"Have you had your fun then?" he asked as the game came to an end.

"Yes, thank you," she said politely.

Miss Owen flashed him a cheeky smirk. One that made him smile, too. A genuine smile. Like one he hadn't worn in some time. It reminded him of one of his best nights when he was still a member of the infantry.

"Hope to see you around then," one man said as they headed for the door.

"You're a hit," Mason commented, the words slipping from him before he could think about them again.

"This is a fun place," Miss Owen responded. "Do you come here often?"

"I've been here once or twice," he said.

As soon as they were out the door, her act came to an end. She took a step away from him, and all her usual manners came back. She was no longer his wife, and they were no longer a happy couple. He instantly missed the false relationship they'd had for the last few hours.

"Where are we going next?" she asked. "I'd be disappointed to end this afternoon with no useful information. Especially after all this effort."

"I have a place in mind, but when I say we need to leave, I need you to trust me," Mason pressed. "I mean it."

"Why should I trust you any more than the men in there?" she asked as she approached the carriage. "We don't know each other very well. I think I've already shown you a fair amount of trust, don't you?"

She had a point, but Mason refused to accept it. He hated the idea that anybody might find him untrustworthy. He had hoped she would be safe with him, but he had pushed her to the point of distrust when he'd lied about their plans for that day. And, when he reflected, he understood that he'd taken her somewhere unsafe.

"You can trust me," he assured her.

The driver opened the carriage door, and Miss Owen helped herself inside.

"Then prove it," she said. "Look at where you've brought me. You lied to me about having tea, too. You've given me little reason to trust you."

"Then why did you come?" he pressed. "If you don't trust me, why did you agree to any of this?"

"Because despite the lack of reason, I do trust you," she said. "Now I'm hoping you didn't prove me wrong."