She avoided James throughout dinner, choosing instead to sit with Mrs. Grant, Mrs. Grant’s father, and Arthur. Mr. Ashcombe, a merchant from Sussex, joined their group. He was a kind, elderly man with a tuft of white hair that refused to stayput, no matter how many times he tried to tame it. He was a lively dinner companion who entertained them with stories from his adventures at sea.
“I remember one time we ferried a load of livestock, and when the French sailors were unloading, an ornery goat made off with one of their hats.” His face brightened at the memory, and Arthur laughed in delight. “The sailor chased him down, but I don’t believe he ever caught the creature.”
He clearly relished the audience, and Kate found herself equally absorbed. “And then there was all the mysterious cargo,” he said. “We were often paid to deliver crates of goods without ever being told what was inside.”
“What do you think might have been in the crates?” Arthur asked with wide eyes. “Gold? Or jewels?”
Mr. Ashcombe chuckled. “Could be, my lad. I never had proof of it, but anything is possible. A manifest may say one thing and the hold another. Most men see only paper. Sailors know better.”
They listened to his tales until Arthur could no longer hide his yawns. “If you will excuse us,” Mrs. Grant said to the small party, “I believe we will retire for the evening.” The family rose.
“Yes, I will retire as well,” Mr. Ashcombe said with a muffled yawn. “These old bones need all the sleep they can get.” After bidding one another good night, Mrs. Grant and her family climbed the stairs to their own quarters while Mr. Ashcombe made his way outside to the stables where most of the men were sleeping.
Kate gathered up a few items the serving girl was unable to carry to the kitchen. Her small task was completed, but she was not weary enough to retire to her room. Tess had gone upstairs to see to their things, leaving Kate briefly alone. She grimaced at Belinda’s laugh behind her. She certainly had no desire to be near James. That left only one option.
She retrieved her warmest cloak from the pegs beside the door and slipped out the rear of the inn, ignoring the hum of conversation and the twittering laughter behind her. The crisp, cold air was a welcome respite from the stuffy inn. She lifted her eyes heavenward. The sky was clear, the twinkling stars scattered bright against the deep velvet. She walked out into the dark, moonlight and starlight her only guides as she made her way toward a small patch that likely served as a garden during the warmer months.
Kate pulled her cloak tight as she settled onto the weather-beaten bench resting against the inn’s back wall, hoping the stillness of the night would help her control her scattered thoughts. She was in the most peculiar situation of her life, yet she had never felt so alive. Free and purposeful. She had made a choice, possibly reckless, definitely deliberate. But most importantly, it was hers. Some of the tension eased from her chest. Perhaps there was a way to live within the confines of society’s expectations and remain herself.
She shifted on the bench and leaned back against the wall. Soft rustling in the trees beyond the garden made Kate snap upright. She strained to see through the darkness. Apprehension stirred as she realized how alone she truly was. A cold breeze reached under her cloak and raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
A twig snapped, and she rose quickly from the bench. Perhaps it was time to retire after all. But was someone else outside? She could not see past the shadows of the inn.
“Do you remember when Hugh convinced us to sneak out after dark?” a low voice murmured, drawing nearer with each word as his footsteps crunched the dead leaves strewn along the garden path. Then her mind placed the familiar voice. Relief came first. Then something she refused to name followed whenhe broke from the shadows, the dim light of the moon revealing his face.James.
He wore a weary smile that asked her not to run from him or from their overdue conversation. She took a slow breath, summoning her courage before she spoke.
“Do you mean the time he desperately wanted a new puppy and was convinced that if we wished upon a falling star, he would get one?” James took another step toward her. “We sat in that garden gazebo for hours waiting for a star to pass, and when one finally did, poor Hugh had fallen asleep.”
They exchanged a warm glance rich with old memories. He gestured toward the bench. When she sat, he joined her, the edge of her red cloak brushing his breeches.
“You never told me what you wished for that night, Kate.”
“Did I not? I wanted to travel to London with Mother and Father so I could visit Vauxhall. I had read about the music and the lanterns, but they insisted I was too young.”
“I don’t remember you traveling to London that year.”
“In the end, they went without me.”
“I am sorry, Kate.” He gently took her hand.
He looked across the night sky and the twinkling stars, then turned back to her. “And if there were a falling star tonight, what would you wish for?”
“You would like to know my wishes?”
“I would like to know everything about you.”
She turned away from his scrutiny, the stars a convenient excuse. “I am surprised you have found the time to ask. You seem to be quite busy with Miss Tolliver.”
“Why, Kate,” he said when his laughter finally subsided. When she kept her attention on the sky, he nudged her shoulder with his. “I did not think you were the jealous type.”
“I am not,” she insisted. “I have simply observed that you have often been in her company.”
He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “I have no feelings toward Miss Tolliver. Only irritation at her constant presence and the headache her laugh inspires.”
Relief softened her, and she had a little more charity toward the lady now that she knew she did not hold James’s interest.
“Is Miss Tolliver the only reason you have been avoiding me?” James asked.
