Page 65 of A Problem Princess

He bit down a chuckle and led her to a small table just inside the door that seemed to be the cleanest spot in the room and pulled out a chair, keeping its back toward the wall. She sat but was so excited at being in the filthy, cramped inn that she perched on the edge of her seat and craned her neck to take in every detail of the dark room.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He crossed the room to the counter that served as both bar and guest registration desk. The counter was just as filthy as every other surface in the room despite the large man behind it who was wiping it down with a towel, but the layer of stickiness didn’t stop Clayton from sliding a coin across the board.

“We’re going to need food and drink.” Clayton nodded toward Cordelia at the table. “And two seats on the next stagecoach east.” He didn’t care where the coach was ultimately headed. They’d change at another inn along the way to throw off anyone who might be trailing them from London, although he’d seen no sign of that so far. “When does it leave?”

“In only a few minutes.” The innkeeper flipped the towel over his shoulder and jerked a thumb toward the innyard.

“Then bundle up the food so we can take it with us. We’ll buy two seats if any are still available.”

The man grunted. “Might be, for the right price.”

Clayton grimaced and handed over another coin.

The innkeeper snatched up both coins and barked out orders for food to a bar wench who leaned on her hip against the counter, flirting with a coachman. Most likely she was negotiating more than just his lunch bill. Irritated to be interrupted, she stomped away toward the kitchen.

“I need to send a letter to London,” Clayton added. “Do you have a groom who can ride as a messenger?”

“Aye, but it’ll cost you.”

Of course it would.He tossed over a third coin. “Then I need to use your inkwell and stationery.”

The innkeeper placed the writing supplies on the counter and walked away to call for a groom from the stables. Clayton dipped the quill into the ink and wrote out a coded message to Justice Rivers.

The weather turned bad in London, so we decided to take a holiday until it clears.

Merritt’s father would know exactly what Clayton meant by that. He hoped the judge understood the next bit as well.

The sea looks like a merror here but inn reverse.

In other words, Justice Rivers could contact them via the inn in Mersea.

Write soon to let us know if the weather changes.

—E.

He blotted, folded, and sealed the letter, then scratched out the direction to the Sloane Square terrace house. He handed the note off to the groom who shuffled in from the rear yard and across the straw-strewn floor to the bar.

“Deliver this as fast as you can,” Clayton ordered and placed a coin onto the man’s hand. “Get it there before dark, and you’ll receive a second coin from the man you’re delivering it to.”

“Aye.” With a tug to his cap, the messenger left.

Clayton waited at the counter for the innkeeper to return with news of secured seats on the next stagecoach. He looked around. Pushed up to the bar were men with their tankards of ale and bar wenches with large bosoms that nearly spilled out of their bodices. Laughter and talk boomed through the busy room, but none of it was about recent events in London. Good. That meant information about the town house attack hadn’t yet traveled into the countryside. They’d managed to get ahead of the news before people started to think about missing princesses.Just.

His shoulders eased down as he relaxed. They couldn’t be gone from London for long, and they would have to move on from Mersea before their identities could be discovered. But for now, at least, fate had given them breathing room.

He looked at Cordelia and smiled at the sight of her, although he should have been furious.

Ignoring his orders, she’d slipped off her chair and approached a mother and three children sitting on the wooden bench along the wall. She’d lowered herself down to the children’s eye level, and she was asking the little girl about her rag doll and smiling at the tired mother who had her hands full with the little ones.

Even from across the room, Clayton could see the shine in Cordelia’s eyes and face and the pure joy she took in that small interaction. He’d seen her at the palace in jewels and silks, surrounded by some of the wealthiest and most important people in Europe, and nothing about that brought her the happiness she found in those children.

His heart ached for her. She wanted nothing more than to be a normal person.

Yet she could never be that. Fate sealed her destiny the moment she was born.

“Here you are.” The innkeeper returned and plunked down a bundle of food on the counter. “And two seats are waiting for you on the coach.”