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“Give me the medicine first and let her do it while I’m asleep.” He flopped backward onto the bed.
Artemisia smiled in bemusement. Wasn’t that just like a man? She made his tincture and summoned the maid with the ghastly pot of blood-sucking worms and removed herself to the inn’s common room to read. All in all, it was a very pleasant way to pass an otherwise dreadful afternoon.
While the storm raged outside, Artemisia mentally went over the list of prospective solutions to her and Henry’s mutual predicament. He was a stranger in Cavalier Cove, which made it unlikely he was known to the lord of the manor, either. He had no money, nothing but the clothes on his back, and didn’t even know his full name.
She sighed. A roll of thunder expressed her thoughts more than adequately.
What was she going to do with him?
4
HENRY
Henry awoke feeling right as the rain steadily dripping down the window. His face felt oddly deflated. The work of the worms, during which he had been blessedly sedated. He rolled out of bed and availed himself of the cramped closet that had been specially dedicated to house the chamber pot. Whatever other luxuries the Mermaid’s Rest lacked, it made up for with this thoughtful convenience.
He poured himself more water, listened to the empty gurgle of his stomach, and laid back down, thinking while he stared at the ceiling.
How did he know that this inn, considered the best in Cavalier Cove—not that there was much competition—was a shabby dump compared to his usual accommodations? There was no logical reason for him to hold such a frankly snobbish viewpoint.
Who was he?
Before he could contemplate the question for long, Mrs. Longwood bustled into the room. “You’re awake,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry.”
“That’s a good sign.”
He was inclined to agree, but more than that, he was keen to get out of this room. They went down to the common room which was full of morose people in varying stages of drunkenness. Some were cheerful and chatty, while most were lamenting their interrupted travel plans.
“Proper squall,” one man grunted, fondling his pint of beer while rain pelted the glass.
Henry pulled out a chair for Artemisia. She took her seat with an unusually pensive expression pinching her lovely features.
“What ails you?”
“Nothing, yet.” She smiled tightly.
“Two ales, please,” he signaled to the barmaid. She offered him a choice of chicken or fish for his supper. He chose the chicken.
“I am worried that I won’t arrive at my cousin’s in time to see her baby born.”
“Are you a midwife?”
“No.” She smiled fleetingly.
“Then I cannot imagine she needs your assistance with the process of birthing.”
“Fair enough.” Artemisia turned to stare out the window. “I like to feel useful, that’s all. New mothers need all the help they can get.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You don’t have children?” she asked.
“No,” he said firmly. “In fact, I’m fairly certain I was adamantly opposed to the prospect of children. Not making them, per se, but the raising and caring for parts...” He shuddered.
“You realize this isn’t very becoming of you.”
“But you appreciate my honesty.” To his gratification, she laughed. “I do like babies. In theory. I’m sure I don’t have any of my own, and yet I must have given the subject a great deal of thought. Recently.” Henry felt his brow pleat as he tried to summon stubborn memories that refused to surface.
