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“Because no matter how far I’ve gone beyond the rules of society, I will not defy our Lord’s. I will not sleep with a man who is not my husband,” she snapped, turning away to hide her fright.
The innkeeper grinned, his moustaches parting to show several gaps between pitted, yellow teeth. “Goin’ tae the Green, are ye?” he laughed in his thick brogue. “Yer a good girl y’are, tae make ’im wait ’til the vows is said afore lettin’ ’im ’neath yer skirts! Two rooms it is, then.” He showed them to her room first. “My finest, an’ happy it is I am tae hae the business.”
Sabrina looked around with mild apprehension. She’d never stayed at an inn before. She noted the worn shine on the bed’s wooden posts, and the faded cloth of the canopy and bed hangings. Immediately, she went and examined the mattress. No evidence of infestation, at least. She’d heard horrifying tales of insects that bit one in the night. The hearth was swept clean, and the floor as well.
“It will suffice,” she pronounced.
She listened as Fairford’s valet ordered the maids to bring in his master’s sheets from the carriage and put them on her bed. He then demanded of the innkeeper that the guests in the neighboring room be moved so that his master could take up residence next to his bride—for her protection.
After a quick toilette, Sabrina came down to join her affianced for dinner in the common room. The inn’s other guests sat in the dim corners, covertly eyeing their finery. At one point, she saw Fairford lay a hand on the hilt of the sword hanging at his side and look each man in the eye. There would be no trouble here.
The fare was nothing fancy, despite the owner’s boasts. Roasted capon, new potatoes, and carrots swam in a thin, distinctly unimpressive sauce. Cotters’ food. Still, it was hot, plentiful, and welcome after the long journey. Sabrina finished hers as quickly as manners allowed and then rose. “I am most weary from our travels, my lord. I bid you good night.” She dipped a polite curtsey.
Rising, Fairford bowed. “Are you certain you do not wish me to accompany you?”
Sabrina shook her head. “Thank you, my lord, but you need not trouble yourself. I well remember the way.” It came out rather more sharply than she’d intended.
Stiffly, he bowed acquiescence.
Sabrina fled to her chamber and immediately barred the door behind her, sliding a heavy trunk across the floor to brace against it, for good measure.
A tub of hot water had been brought up while she’d dined, and she availed herself of it with gratitude. An hour and a half later, as she was drying her hair by the fire, the sound of someone entering the room next door made her wonder just how thick the walls were. She recognized Fairford’s voice, along with that of his valet. Their conversation came through with crystal clarity.
“Victory is mine, Grimsby,” said Fairford. “Impertinent chit. She’ll be a pleasure to break, I tell you. By this time tomorrow night, the wench will properly respect her lord and master.”
“Yes, m’lord,” said another voice—Grimsby’s.
Sabrina wrapped a blanket around her and padded cautiously over to the wall, not daring to sit on the bed for fear of making some noise that might be heard on the other side.
“I’ll stick her ’til she begs for mercy,” Fairford boasted, slurring a little. “And when her belly’s full, I’ll find another little sparrow to tickle. Once the babe is born, so long as it’s male, I’ll no longer have need of her.”
“And if it’s a girl?” asked Grimsby.
“Well, I’ll simply have to keep plowing the field until I get a proper result, won’t I?” laughed Fairford.
Though disgusted by his vulgarity, Sabrina reasoned that it was only what she’d expected—wanted, even. He would get her with child and then send her away to live in peace. The delicate clinking of crystal carried through the thin barrier. He must be pouring another drink.
“You should get some rest, m’lord,” said Grimsby. “You’ve not slept since yesterday.”
“Yes, yes, I know! Stop your fussing! You’re worse than an old woman,” Fairford grumbled. “I shan’t disappoint the bride, I assure you. I promise you’ll hear my little redbird sing out tomorrow night when I prick her.”
A loud thump, as of a boot dropping to the floor, sounded, followed by another, and then the sound of creaking wood.
“By the by, speaking of birds, I think my little French nightingale has outlived her usefulness. Her singing is no longer to my taste. Pity. I was going to wait a bit longer, but I’d rather not take any risks just now. See she’s taken care of, Grimsby.”
“Same as the others, m’lord?” Grimsby’s voice had lowered but was still discernible.
The “others”…? Sabrina shifted a bit closer, wondering what Fairford had meant by “taken care of.”
“No,” said Fairford. “The river is off-limits. The last one surfaced after only a few days and sent the whole of London into a bloody panic. People are still talking about it, and the banks are probably being watched more closely now. Even if they aren’t, if another body turns up, there might be an investigation. We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”
Sabrina stood rooted to the spot, hardly able to believe her ears.
“I shall find another means of disposal, m’lord.”
“See that you do. Just to be sure you don’t get careless, I’m only giving you half the money up front. You’ll receive the rest after six weeks have passed without discovery.”
“And what of the Childers woman?” asked Grimsby. “Two might be difficult to get rid of at the same t—”
