AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Dukes don’t sleep in haylofts. You shall share my room. And we shall retirenow.” He did not follow as she lifted her own plate and made for the rear stairway. When she noticed, she turned back, the hood of her cloak hiding her eyes as she prompted, “Your Grace?”
The title shook him free. He straightened his spine. Something had changed, and she was hiding it from him. He considered the tavern, finding nothing amiss. A newcomer had taken a seat at the bar, back to them. The farmer and his beauty were growing more indecent by the moment. The trio of young women in the corner were laughing and shouting for ale.
She shook her head, looking to Gwen. “It’s too warm down here.”
Gwen nodded. “You know how fires are, impossible to keep a place comfortable.”
“It’s not at all warm in here,” he said, feeling as though he was in a stage performance without his lines.
“That is how people sometimes feel when they are extremely warm,” Adelaide said, spinning away from the table. “They mistake it for cold.”
“That’s the opposite of what happens,” he said. “People mistake cold for heat. Take their clothes off and die of exposure.”
“The man’s talking of removing his clothes, Adelaide. You’d best get him upstairs before he offends the whole place,” Gwen interjected.
That was an impossibility, he was sure. Although he shouldn’t be discussing clothing within earshot of women. It simply wasn’t done.
None of this was done, come to think of it.
He froze. No matter what games he played, he remained the Duke of Clayborn. Which meant that when something was not done, it was not doneby him.
Adelaide barely turned, her face shadowed by the edge of her hood.Hidden.From what? Fromwhom? Someday, he’d have a chance to look at this woman in full daylight, without barriers between them, and ask her questions she would answer.
“Now, Duke.”
He blinked, unaccustomed to receiving orders. “Now?”
“Now,” she said softly, before she was gone, disappearing into the crowd, toward the stairs leading up to the rooms of the inn.
He shouldn’t be doing any of this.
Shouldn’t be eating with her, or conversing with her, or following her from inn to inn.
And hecertainlyshouldn’t be following her across a taproom, to a staircase that would take him up to private rooms.
Room. A single, private room.And bed.
But that damn vision was back. That bed. Adelaide in it with her hair spread out in silken waves. And it wasdifficult to refuse an opportunity to see it made real. Certainly, hewouldrefuse it. Just as soon as he found the words.
Just as soon as he was through imagining it.
Except there were more people in the tavern than he’d initially thought, and she had already disappeared, expecting him to follow.
No, came a whisper at the back of his mind.Not disappeared.
Fled.
Which meant someone was chasing her. Someone other than himself.
And he couldn’t have that.
Chapter Six
When they reached the top of the rear stairs of the Hawk and Hedgehog, Adelaide told herself her heart was pounding because of the possibility of discovery below.
Alfie Trumbull hadn’t built one of the largest criminal gangs in London without knowing a thing or two about tracking people outside the city. If a peer was looking for a less than savory solution to a problem, The Bully Boys would handle it—for a hefty price.
Watching her father build his empire had inspired Adelaide to bring the idea of a network of safe taverns to Duchess and the Belles. Now, more than twenty called the Duchess of Trevescan a patron, and were serviced by Mithra Singh and her crew of brewers and messengers.
