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“Have there been increased robberies on the roads of England?” she asked, looking at the various occupants. To her complete annoyance, they all laughed, as though she’d said something hilariously funny. She scowled. “You’re the one who mentioned he was a boxer.”
“You’re right,” Priscilla said, covering up her small giggle. “But I only meant that Wyatt and Ralph are training partners and they work out together daily.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why a viscount would need to spar daily while at a funeral, but she decided to abandon the attempt to learn more. She’d been filling the time mostly, and it seemed as though no matter how many questions she asked, she didn’t get any closer to an actual answer that made actual sense.
And so the carriage rumbled on, silence falling once again. The afternoon passed with agonizing silence until they finally stopped for the evening.
The inn was quaint enough, with a bright red door and clean, multipaned windows. The fence about the front gardens was freshly painted a bright white, and perfumed flowers bloomed in the well-tended beds. Clara breathed a sigh of relief to exit the carriage. First, she was tired of riding, and second, the three-day trip was a third of the way complete.
As they made their way inside, Mr. Fitzroy and Viscount Ware enquired about a private dining room and accommodations, while she and Priscilla stood to the side out of the fray.
“So many travelers,” Priscilla murmured. “Do you wonder what their stories might be?”
Clara cocked a brow. “I’m still puzzling over the fourth member of our party. I don’t have room to wonder about other travelers.”
Priscilla blushed a bit. “I wish I could tell you more.”
“Tell me what?” Now her interest truly was piqued. What and why were their secrets about Mr. Fitzroy?
“I’ll tell you all of it when we return to London,” Priscilla whispered before Lord Ware made his way back over to them, Mr. Fitzroy just behind.
“We’ve secured rooms,” Viscount Ware announced as he stopped in front of his wife. “I’ll have our trunks brought upstairs.”
Mr. Fitzroy gave a single nod of acknowledgement before he walked past their party and down the hall that led to the tavern.
Her brows shot up. “Your valet isn’t going to get the bags for you?”
Ware cleared his throat. “He’s never been a particularly good valet.”
No. Indeed he was not. Though to be fair to him, Clara seriously doubted he was a valet at all.
Ralph sat sipping his ale as he enjoyed a brief moment of peace.
This trip was turning out even worse than he’d imagined and that was saying something. He’d expected this errand for the queen to be painful at best and dangerous at worst, but added to the annoyance of being forced to spy, he’d been saddled with the most… He searched for the proper word for Clara Melby.
Troublesome? She hadn’t actually caused any.
Snooty? Her huffs and sighs certainly indicated as much, but she’d not actually insulted him that he could recall.
Vexing…that was the word he searched for.
She fidgeted constantly, she asked a ridiculous number of questions, and she looked like she belonged in one of those renaissance paintings depicting heaven.
He fully realized most wouldn’t think that last point was a flaw. But her blonde hair and light green eyes bordered on distracting. And then there was the perfect symmetry of her delicate features and the flowing swish of her hands.
Add a nice bosom to all of that…
Strictly speaking, he didn’t know if bosoms were angelic. He’d never studied art and he hardly paid attention in church, but if a bosom could be perfect, hers was. Not overly large but not small, either. Just right.
His mood soured further as he realized he sat alone in a tavern considering her chest. What the bloody bollocks was wrong with him?
She was everything he didn’t like: rich, impatient, likely elitist. Though the last one he didn’t know for certain. But the traits often went together.
Why was he thinking of her at all? He ought to be thinking about how he’d learn anything of value from or about the new Earl of Kinross. Besides, a woman like her would never agree with his plan to expose society once he became earl.
As a large man, sneaking wasn’t exactly his strength, so shadowed spying was a limited option. Wyatt would likely help on that front. But Wyatt should be involved in this as little as possible now that he was married and had a family to protect.
Ralph could inquire in the village near the Earl of Kinross’s home. He’d listen to the servants too. He could search rooms, he supposed. But what we he even looking for? There wasn’t likely to be a document that stated I killed my father. He was a complete git.
