Page 4 of No Ordinary Lady

Sunday’s expression turned even more disapproving. “I’ve had a word with the cook and have arranged for your dinner to be served in your chambers tonight. There’s no private dining room. It’s only mutton stew, probably bereft of mutton, by the way. You would eat better if only we went home tonight.”

“It’s good enough for one night,” he decided. “Sunday, you’ve become truly persnickety in your old age.”

Sunday was only three and twenty. A few years younger than Daniel, but much more conservative in his opinions and expectations for service. He’d entered Daniel’s employ at the tender age of twelve, as a temporary valet, and had never left the position. Over the years of living in London, though, Sunday had gained an appreciation for the finer things in life and always expected Daniel to want the same.

But unlike Sunday, Daniel had had his old granny in his ear, pleading with him to never let his title or wealth go to his head. Granny said if he was too proper, too concerned with his own consequence, he’d miss out on all the fun. So that had compelled Daniel to seek adventure anywhere and everywhere. Gaming hell, brothel, or high society ball.

Daniel had had a surfeit of fun over the years following Granny’s advice, much to his mother’s chagrin. That was why he was finally ready to settle down. He couldn’t think of anything more that was left to experience in the world. Marriage would be his last grand adventure, he supposed. Whether it was fun or not was up to him and his future wife to come to terms with.

He reentered the tavern and sat down at the table by the window, noticing the tankards he’d not finished before were empty. Someone had relieved him of his ale in his absence from the tavern. It was his own damn fault for leaving it behind, of course. But he still threw a scowl at the few occupants in the room now before he ordered another pair of tankards from the innkeeper.

He pulled the tankards close when they arrived. He would not be distracted from them again.

After all, it was to be his last night of total freedom before becoming engaged, and he intended to finish his bachelorhood on his own terms.

He glanced around the room at the other occupants once more and sighed at the obvious lack of potential entertainment and female companionship. There was not even a handsome servant woman who might smile his way tonight or flirt with him.

Daniel slouched in his chair, sipping his ale, but his mind turned to the past and all the women he’d known. He was not sorry to have left them behind, really. He regretted mostly that he’d not found the one woman he might turn heaven and earth over for. Some said love was worth any sacrifice. Daniel would have to wait to find out if that was true or not.

Perhaps he would fall in love with his future wife when he saw her again. It had been a long time since he’d seen Amy, and she was only now old enough to make a marriage.

He finished his ale in solitude and then looked around to see Sunday had returned. “Your dinner is ready.”

“Good.” Daniel stood and trudged upstairs alone, Sunday disappearing to the stables where he’d spend the night in Daniel’s comfortable carriage, probably grumbling or dreaming of being home again in his own feather bed.

He let himself inside his chamber and looked around. A bed, chair and table, and a fire. Almost everything a bachelor could need. A woman in that bed would have completed the picture.

But there would not be one last wild night of abandon here.

He went directly to the small, battered table by the window and sat himself down with a heavy sigh. He found the promised mutton stew and a hard bread roll beside it. He wasn’t as fussy as Sunday and knew it would be enough, but he had to admit that his last meal and night as a bachelor was turning out to be a severe disappointment.

Chapter Two

“Did we get everything?” Marian asked as she joined the others after taking the long way to their camp so she couldn’t be followed. She glanced at the table and grinned. “Pocket watch, pearl-handled knife, and the rest of the coin he carried,” she noted with approval, dropping onto a log beside her uncle. But the second gold sovereign the fellow had given them was suspicious by its absence. But Marian knew better than to question her uncle about that. Uncle always put a bit aside for a rainy day.

“Yes, well done, everyone,” Uncle Crossman murmured as he pulled it all toward himself and began a careful inspection of each item. He tucked some away in his pockets, others were left out, but as he lifted the gold sovereign, his frown grew. “Was this really all he carried?”

Marian looked around at the youngest member of their troupe, Billy, who nodded vigorously. He was young but already well skilled at picking pockets without detection.

Marian liked young Billy, but she also worried about him. He didn’t speak, and no amount of prompting could make him utter a single sound. But he was small and nimble and carried out orders without complaint, so Uncle used him as often as needed.

Uncle and Tommy, a strapping young man in their wandering troupe, planned to take the rich man’s carriage on the road tomorrow. Today, they’d tested how deep their target’s pockets might be with that little farce between her and Uncle outside the Wraxall Inn.

They were all certain he had more to steal, but the last time they’d met someone like him on the road, it had been an ugly business. Blood was shed, and that wasn’t usual for their troupe and something Marian would like to avoid happening ever again.

When she’d seen her chance to perhaps avoid unpleasantness tomorrow, she’d signaled to Billy to crash into the young man. Billy had emptied his pockets with no trouble or hesitation, and it proved he wasn’t as well off as they’d all imagined. He certainly didn’t act like any of the wealthy toffs she’d ever met on the road.

“I would have thought with the way his valet carried on about the shabby state of the inn that his master would have carried more upon him.” Uncle pursed his lips and glanced over at Billy. “Are you sure this is all of it, boy?”

Billy nodded vigorously and inched toward Marian, so she spoke for him. “He never felt a thing.”

Beatrice chortled. “Maybe he enjoyed having a strange little boy hold on to him for so long. Maybe Billy should run back and try again.”

Billy leaned harder into her side, and Marian put her arm about him. Beatrice could be cruel toward Billy and often said horrible things that often frightened him. Marian scowled at Beatrice. “Leave him be. He did well today.”

“Yes, well done, Billy,” Uncle Crossman said, smiling fondly at the boy.

Marian ruffled his hair and grinned. She knew so little about Billy’s past, but he’d clearly suffered mistreatment at the hands of others before they’d found him. He was afraid of most men, especially men as large as Tommy, yet he’d trusted Uncle Crossman and her from the moment they’d met.