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Sarah sighed. “Eight in the morning.” She put down her book and looked into her father’s warm eyes. If only the two of them could carry on as they were. Marriage would ruin all that.
***
Bo refused to share his plan until Tim Tom brought him his second pint of ale. Once it arrived, he spoke.
“I’d wager that if Patrick attends that fancy ball of the Duke of Faversham’s, dressed as a lord, not one peer would believe him to be of high birth.”
Patrick knitted his brow. This whole conversation was nonsense, but once a challenge was set before him, he had to take it.
“I’m confident that they would think I was a lord. It would be easy. Fancy clothes, a coach; I’d have them convinced within moments.”
Bo laughed. “So, you want to make a bet of it?”
Jimmy said, “This is utter nonsense. We’ll be working ourselves to the bone all week.”
Bo shrugged his shoulders. “But we need a bit of excitement, don’t we?”
“What are you proposing?” Patrick asked.
Before Bo could answer, he motioned towards Tim Tom. “My friend, another round of chips.”
“Quite the appetites on you four,” Tim Tom replied.
Bo turned his head to look at the Duke of Faversham, seated in the back of the tavern, holding court with a group of distinguished men.
Once he turned back to Patrick, Bo’s eyes were already bloodshot from the ale, the heavy food, and the excitement. “If you pass as a lord, all three of us will give you half of our wages from this week.” Bo looked towards Ned and Jimmy.
“And if I don’t pass?”
“Then you pay us half your wages for the next two weeks.”
Patrick smiled. “That is if we can even find employment next week.”
Bo sipped his ale. “That’s a sound point.”
Although Patrick didn’t think any of them should be betting their money, considering they were almost entirely broke, he could never turn down an exciting challenge, particularly when it entailed doing something he’d never done before—attending a ball.
Patrick slammed his fist down upon the wooden bar. “I’m in.”
Bo and Ned cheered, but Jimmy seemed disgruntled. No doubt, he didn’t wish to give up his earnings, either.
Still, the prospect of pulling it off and making some extra income to boot was exciting for Patrick. And deep down, he was confident he could do it. Patrick had a way of blending into whatever environment he found himself in. And for whatever mysterious reason, he sensed that there was a nobleman in him somewhere, just waiting to come out.
The men ordered another round of ale and clinked their glasses. Several hours of carousing and jollity ensued, and by the time they settled up their tab with Tim Tom, all four of the men were considerably drunk.
As they exited the Hound’s Bone, they sang songs, wrapped arms around each others’ necks, and stumbled their way back to Anders’ farm. The journey that was previously a quarter of an hour now took half an hour, as the men swayed and laughed. Ned was the first to fall to the ground, and Jimmy helped him up. Patrick proved yet again that he could hold his drink best because he observed his drunken friends with a great deal of amusement.
Once they arrived at the farm, Anders must have heard their approach from a mile away, for he sat on his porch with a pipe. Upon seeing the drunken men, he shook his head in displeasure.
“I can see that you’ve had a fine evening,” Anders said.
Bo raised his hand. “Anders, my dear old man!”
“Get on to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”
Jimmy put a hand over Bo’s mouth. “We sure will, sir.”
Going around the back of the house to the barn, the four men entered, and Patrick sighed to himself. When would the day come where he didn’t have to sleep on a pile of hay? Still, he was so weary that it wouldn’t matter to him. Patrick laid down his head and fell fast asleep.
