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Chapter 4
Leaving the Hamel Haberdashery and Millinery, Patrick felt optimistic that he’d be up for the challenge. There were several used items that the proprietor sold to them, and even though they were in good condition, Patrick purchased a needle and thread to make some amendments.
Bo said, “I think this is cause to celebrate. The Hound’s Bone, anyone?”
Patrick rolled his eyes, still carrying the packages from the shop. “Don’t you think it’s a tad early, old chap?”
“I awoke at five in the morning. What do you mean, a tad early? We’ve been up all day.”
The other men nodded in agreement. Patrick had to relent, considering that it was a huge accomplishment to pool all their funds to procure the garb. And what’s more, they did make a great deal of progress on Anders’ farmhouse that morning, making many key repairs that set them on the right track to conclude by the end of the week.
Bo threw his hands in the air. “Here we go then!”
The tavern was only a few streets down from the haberdashery, and even at that early hour in the afternoon, it was already packed with men. Luckily for them, their now familiar spot at the bar was free, and they went and sat, Tim Tom approaching immediately.
“You sorry lot,” Tim Tom said. “Didn’t have your fill last night?”
Jimmy replied, “Absolutely not. We have cause for celebration.”
Tim Tom leaned his elbow on the bar. “And what’s that?”
“Our friend here is going to be an earl.” Jimmy clapped Patrick on the back.
“You don’t say?”
Ned chimed in. “It’s true. He’s accepted the wager to attend the Duke of Faversham’s ball. Now he just needs a good name. Any thoughts, Patrick?”
All eyes turned towards him. It was something that Patrick had been thinking of all day. What would his alias be? The best idea that came to mind had a rather interesting story attached to it.
“I have it all planned,” Patrick said, not revealing it till that moment.
“Before you elaborate,” Bo said. “We’re going to need four pints, Tim Tom. And whatever your luncheon special is today.”
“Sausage and peppers on brown bread.”
“That sounds fine, my friend.”
Once the order was placed, Bo, Ned, and Jimmy returned their attention to Patrick.
“I am to be Lord Reginald Simmons, Earl of Buckland, from Wales.”
Ned asked, “However did you come up with such a monicker?”
Patrick smiled mischievously. “Well, as I was growing up, my mother was in the employment of Lord Percival Simmons, who was earl at the time. Reginald was his son and exactly my age. As I’m told, the former earl has passed away, and his son, Lord Reginald, now carries the title of the Earl of Buckland. But you see, the boy was quite the recluse growing up. I remember observing him since we were so close in age. I believe that the earl shall never leave Wales, and no one will suspect a thing.”
Jimmy scratched his chin. “It’s a rather sound plan.”
“Now, considering that the earl is a recluse, I think that it’s in my best interests to play the part so that anyone who might know of the earl will never suspect.”
Ned asked, “So, you’re going to remain quiet and moody in the corner all night long?”
The men laughed. It was a humorous prospect.
“Let me amend that idea,” Patrick said. “I shall be quiet and mysterious. Create intrigue.”
The drinks arrived, and Bo took a hearty sip. “You’ll make all the ladies fall in love with you; that much is certain!”
“Hear, hear!” the men said, lifting their glasses and clinking them together.
