In Bed With The Duke. ANNIE BURROWS
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for a se’ennight.
Thank goodness she hadn’t been fooled by that charming smile into thinking he was a man she could trust. Which, she admitted, she had started to do. Why, she hadn’t talked to anyone so frankly and freely since her parents had died.
Which wouldn’t do. Because he had secrets, did her uncle Gregory. She’d seen a distinct flash of guilt when he’d spoken the name Willingale.
Which meant he was definitely hiding something.
Perhaps his real name wasn’t Gregory Willingale at all. Perhaps he was using an alias, for some reason. But what could she do about it anyway? Run to the burly bartender with a tale of being abandoned by her aunt and left to the mercy of a man she’d never clapped eyes on until the night before? What would that achieve? Nothing—that was what. She already knew precisely what people who worked in inns thought of girls who went to them with tales of that sort. They thought they were making them up. At least that was what the landlady of the last inn had said. Before lecturing her about her lack of morals and throwing her out.
Earlier this morning she’d thought the woman must be incredibly cruel to do such a thing. But if Prudence had been the landlady of an inn, with a business to run, would she have believed such a fantastic tale? Why, she was living through it and she hardly believed it herself.
She cleared her throat.
‘So, Mr Willingale,’ she said, but only after swallowing the last of the sirloin he’d shared with her. ‘Or should I call you Uncle Willingale? What do you propose we do next?’
Her own next step would depend very much on whatever his plans were. She’d only make up her mind what to do when she’d heard what they were.
‘I am not sure,’ he said through a mouthful of beef. ‘I do not think we are in possession of enough facts.’
Goodness. That was pretty much the same conclusion she’d just drawn.
‘Though I do think,’ he said, scooping up a forkful of onions and depositing it on her plate, ‘that in some way your guardians are attempting to defraud you of your inheritance.’
‘Thank you,’ she said meekly. ‘For the onions, I mean,’ she hastily explained, before spreading them on one of the remaining slices of bread and butter, then folding it into a sort of sandwich.
‘You’re welcome. Though how abandoning you in a small hostelry in the middle of nowhere will serve their purpose I cannot imagine. Surely the disappearance of a wealthy young woman will not go unnoticed wherever it is you come from?’
Since her mouth was full, she shook her head.
‘It might not be noticed,’ she admitted, as soon as her mouth was free to use it for anything other than eating. ‘Not for a very long time anyway. Because we were on our way to Bath.’
‘Bath?’
Why did he look as though he didn’t believe her?
‘Yes, Bath. Why not? I know it isn’t exactly fashionable any more, but we are far from fashionable people. And I did tell you, didn’t I, that Aunt Charity had been trying to get me to marry...? Well, someone I don’t much care for.’
‘A relative of her new husband?’ he said grimly.
‘Yes.’
‘And then she suddenly changed her tack, did she? Offered to take you somewhere you could meet a young man you might actually like?’
‘There’s no need to say it like that!’ Though she had been rather surprised by her aunt’s sudden volte-face. ‘She said she would rather see me married to anyone than have me create talk by moving out of her house to set up home on my own.’
‘My mental powers are growing stronger by the minute,’ Gregory said sarcastically, sawing off another piece of steak. ‘Do go on,’ he said, when she glowered at him over the rim of her teacup. ‘You were about to tell me why nobody will be raising a hue and cry.’
‘I have already told you. Aunt Charity finally saw that nothing on earth would induce me to marry...that toad. So she told everyone she was going to take me to Bath and keep me there until she’d found me a match, since I had turned up my nose at the best Stoketown had to offer.’
‘Stoketown? You hail from Stoketown?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your aunt claimed she was taking you to Bath?’
‘Yes.’
He laid down his knife and fork. ‘You are not very bright, are you?’
‘What? How dare you?’
‘I dare because you were headed in entirely the wrong direction ever to end up in Bath. You should have gone in a south-westerly direction from Stoketown. Instead you had been travelling in completely the opposite direction. Wherever it was your guardians were planning to take you, it most definitely wasn’t Bath.’
‘I don’t believe you. That cannot be true.’ Though why would he say such a thing if he didn’t think it?
‘Would you like me to ask the landlord to bring us a road map?’ he asked her calmly. ‘He probably has one, since this inn is on a staging route.’
‘I’ve had enough of landlords for one day,’ she said bitterly. ‘The less I have to do with the one of this tavern, the better.’
‘So you believe you were not headed in the direction of Bath?’
She turned her cup round and round on its saucer for a few moments, thinking as hard as she could. ‘I cannot think of any reason why you should say that if it weren’t true,’ she said pensively. ‘But then, I cannot think of any reason why Aunt Charity should claim to be taking me there and actually be taking me in the opposite direction, either.’
‘Nor why she should give you something that would make you sleep so soundly you wouldn’t even wake when she carried you to the room of the most disreputable person she could find, undressed you, and put you into bed with him? Aha!’ he cried, slapping the tabletop. ‘Disreputable. That was the word I was searching for.’
‘Do you have to sound so pleased about it?’
‘I can’t help it. You have no idea how irritating it has been, not being able to come up with the words I want,’ he said, wiping the gravy from his plate with the last slice of her bread.
Her bread. The bread she’d ordered.
Though, to be fair, he had shared some of his own meal with her. If he had taken the last slice of her bread, at least he’d made up for it by sharing his steak and onions.
‘I wasn’t talking about that,’ she protested.
‘What, then?’
‘I meant about the conclusions you have drawn.’
‘Well, I’m pleased about them, too. That is that things are becoming clear.’
‘Are they?’
‘Yes.’ He finished the bread, picked up his tankard, emptied that, and sat back with a satisfied sigh. ‘I have ruled Hugo out of the equation. You,’ he said, setting the tankard down on the tabletop with a sort of a flourish, ‘are an heiress. And villains are trying to swindle you out of your inheritance. First of all they told everyone they were going to take you to Bath, and then set off in the opposite direction. Where exactly they planned to take you, and what they planned to do when they got there, we may never know. Because one of the horses went lame and they were obliged to rack up at The Bull. Where they were shown to rooms on the very top floor.’
He leaned forward slightly.
‘There were only three rooms on that floor, if you recall. Yours, mine,