Page 79 of Only a Mistress Will Do

He chuckled and slid her back into her seat. “I fear we must abate our ardor for the moment, my love.”

The trap opened and the coachman peered down at them. “The Black Horse Inn, my lord.”

Chapter 30

Tris forced himself to calm. His major worry since leaving Harper’s Grange was Violet’s reputation. If a simple lie would suffice, he could proclaim them man and wife. Unfortunately, he was somewhat known in the area, so gossip would bubble up. He could say she was his sister and since they’d be in different rooms, it might serve. However, if she was known in the area as governess to Lord Downing’s granddaughter, there would be hell to pay in the rumor mill. Of course, honesty was likely the best policy, but even that was never a sure thing. Guess he’d have to take this one on the fly.

He scarcely waited for the carriage to stop before jumping to the muddy ground and handing Violet down the step. Grasping her waist, hardly bigger than his hands’ span, he whirled her off the step onto the less muddy cobbles of the doorway.

Just touching her, even through layers of clothing and cloak, set his cock to aching. She had ever afflicted him thus. It had been so long since they had been together, just themselves in an embrace that stretched forever. His blood raced hotly through his veins, igniting a fire within him he never wanted to quench save in her sweet self.

“What are you going to tell them?” Violet whispered when he lifted her.

“Allow me to handle it all, my dear.” Firmly, he put the distraction of her presence aside. He must concentrate on securing two rooms with no harm to her reputation. Given her lack of a maid, this could be a challenge. He strode to the bar in the Black Horse’s taproom and raised his voice. “Innkeeper?”

A moment later a familiar thin, older woman appeared from somewhere in the shadowy recesses of the inn, a mug in one hand, a towel in the other. “May I help you, my lord?” Her eyebrows rose. “Lord Trevor. An honor, milord.” She gazed first at Violet, then back to him, a sly smile on her lips. “How may I help you?”

Tris could see the wheels turning in her greedy little mind. How much she could charge for her silence and how much she could sell the information for. He’d squash that directly. Summoning all his charm, he smiled at her. “How kind of you to remember me. I require two rooms and a parlor, if you please, for myself and my ward, Miss Carlton.” He spoke with deliberation. “I will also require the services of one of your maids for the night.”

The wild look the woman shot him made him bite back a laugh. Oh, yes, she’d be telling tales the moment he headed to his room.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, my lord. The Black Horse is a respectable inn.” She managed to sound outraged, although the excitement showed plainly in her wide eyes and raised brows. She tapped the bar with her towel.

“My ward has lost her maid due to an injury.” A stretching of the truth, but still a plausible lie. “She will require the services of one of your maids to fill the breech until other arrangements can be made. Do you have such a girl you can spare for the evening?”

“Oh, ah, well.” The woman cut her eyes from him to Violet once more, clearly puzzled. “I s’pose I could spare Betsy for the night. ‘Specially as how we’re not full up.” She shrugged and handed him a key. “I’ll send her out to show you to your rooms. Dinner’s past, but I’ve got some keeping hot in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Roast chicken with a ragout of vegetables, potatoes en croute, and there’s still some apple tart.”

Food was the last thing on his mind, but Violet might need something to fortify her. One glance at her told him she was nearing the end of her strength. She’d stood this entire time, speechless, almost in a trance, a vacant look on her usually animated face.

“That sounds delicious, doesn’t it, my dear? And apple tart is your favorite, isn’t it?”

Violet nodded vigorously, a frozen smile and glassy eyes heightening his concern.

“We will be down directly we refresh ourselves and change.” Thank goodness the taproom held only a handful of men sipping ale and talking quietly.

“You don’t want to dine in your parlor? Privately?” The woman cocked her head. Her beady eyes flicked from him to Violet.

Tris would love nothing better. What he truly wanted to feast on was not chicken and vegetables. But for the sake of Violet’s reputation, the game must be played out down here. “I believe we would enjoy a little company this evening, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Carlton?” He affected a careless demeanor, all the while willing her to agree.

“I…” She cleared her throat. “I think I would like that, my lord.”

Sighing in relief, he beamed at Violet. “Then it’s settled, Mrs.…”

“Cheeley, my lord. Mrs. Elmira Cheeley. My husband’s the innkeeper, but he’s been called away to his grandda’s funeral and left me to run things.” Mrs. Cheeley bobbed her head, a new respect in her eyes.

“My condolences to your husband. If you would be so kind as to fetch Betsy and some warm water for washing, we can be back down by the time you’ve set our places.” Tris allowed himself to relax a trifle as the woman headed into the kitchen, calling for Betsy in a shrill voice. He returned his attention to Violet, who stared at him, wry amusement on her drawn face.

“Your ward?”

“The best I could think of when the woman recognized me.”

“How?”

“Downing and I stopped here once for a drink on our way from London. I thought it had been the Black Swan, which is why I told Stokes to make for the Black Horse. I was unfortunately mistaken. I’d rather not be known, but I believe it will be all right.” He helped her off with her cloak, breathing in the soft jasmine scent of her hair. Soothing and exciting in the same instant.

“What will be all right? And why are you engaging a maid for me?” Her eyes flashed a deeper amber, almost golden in the uneven light. She must be recovering her faculties. “I don’t need a maid, especially when I want to be with you tonight.”

“And I with you, my love.” He ran his hand down her arm and shuddered as the need to enfold her almost overtook him. “If we wish to preserve our reputations, however, we must wait a little longer and play out this blasted charade.”