AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That might be how they cluck, but it is certainly not how they trill.” I stepped into the corridor and followed him down toward the stairs.
“Are you an expert in chickens, then?”
We took the stairs down to a darkened, quiet taproom. “I happen to have experience with them, yes. Our hostess had chickens in Vienna. It is not much experience, but enough to know the difference between a cluck and a trill.”
Benedict came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs, and I nearly collided with his back. I looked beyond his shoulder and saw two men sitting at a table near the center of the room. I dropped my head immediately, understanding my mistake. I hadn’t disguised my voice at all while coming down the stairs. Benedict angled his body to hide me, and I assumed the position of a serving boy, hunching my shoulders slightly to better hide my chest and training my gaze on the floor.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, setting his hat on his head.
“Morning,” one of them answered.
It wasn’t Peter’s voice, thank the heavens. I hazarded a quick peek, and neither man looked like Peter. They were watching us with curiosity, though, so Benedict and I left the room directly, though at a slower pace than I desired.
I went to fetch Charlie from the stables, and he set about harnessing the horses straight away. When I returned to inform Benedict, as a good servant ought to do, he leaned down to speak softly near my ear. “I will return inside and order breakfast for the road. We need to be on our way. Stay out of sight until Charlie pulls the carriage around. A gentleman passed you and went into the stables a moment ago, and I do not know if he was your friend or not.”
I gave him a curt nod and skirted around the side of the building. Our bags were already stored in the carriage. I could have hidden in there if Benedict hadn’t seen the man go into the stables. This was all too much, and I was suddenly wishing we had never attempted this scheme. It was far better to be a boy than to be thought a hussy, though. We’d passed the halfway mark on our journey yesterday, so we were nearly to Chelton. Only two days of travel remained.
I could do this. For another two days, I could do this.
My thin shirt and breeches were no match for the November chill, and a shudder ran over my skin while I paced slowly along the back of the building. Stone row houses lined the opposite street, and smoke billowed from the chimneys punctuating their shared roof. The sky was beginning to lighten, gray mixing with the dark blues. I turned the corner again and stopped short. A handful of men stood in a small group between the inn’s door and our carriage, speaking to Benedict. He looked up and caught my gaze, then cleared his throat loudly. “I must be off, men.”
“You truly will not remain?” The man who spoke swung an elaborate cane, a clear affectation made obvious by the way he shifted from one foot to the other without use of it. “I had not taken you for a coward, Bradwell.”
I looked at Benedict sharply. Would he allow the man to speak to him in such a way?
A smile spread over Benedict’s face, wide and lazily. “I’m afraid I will always run when my mother beckons me, Keller. I must balance my absences from her house with some decency.”
Some of the men chuckled politely. Benedict bid them farewell and turned to open the carriage door. Once he was inside, I peeked at the handful of men from beneath my cap and found Peter standing among them. Drat. The carriage door sat open, awaiting me, and I scurried over and slipped inside, squeezing against the wall as Benedict reached out and pulled the door closed. He banged his fist against the roof of the carriage and we were off.
“That was a nice leap,” he said hesitantly.
“Peter was there. He was among the group speaking to you.” My chest heaved, my breath coming quickly.
He looked surprised and leaned forward to look out the window. “Which man?”
“Fair-haired. He stood beside the man with the cane.”
“Ah, yes.” He analyzed me a bit longer. “You certainly have a habit of giving him reason to find you suspicious in perfectly ordinary situations.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ducking from the window last night. Running and leaping into the carriage. A typical servant boy would scurry, perhaps, but he would do his best to not be noticed. You, Thea, were anything but sly.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What are the odds that he did not see my face?”
“Referencing wagering, Thea? That is not very ladylike.”
“I am not dressed as a lady. That affords me some leniency, does it not?”
He gave a dry laugh. “Nothing about this journey is very ordinary, I suppose.”
“The odds?” I pressed, using the word to vex him.
Benedict narrowed his eyes, then looked as though he gave the matter some thought. “High, I believe. I doubt he saw your face. You ran too fast for him to do so.”
“And my voice? Do you think he heard me speaking of chickens?”
“I haven’t a clue. I did not see him in the taproom, but he could have been nearby. He could have thought you were a very young boy.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “But your voice, though feminine, is too rich to sound much like a young boy either.”
