Averil climbed down, stumbling a little, her legs stiff. ‘It seems very busy.’ As she spoke another carriage clattered into the yard, ostlers ran out with a change of horses and several people walked in from the street. ‘Perhaps I had better check they have accommodation before you unharness the horses in case we must try another inn.’
He touched his forelock and she started to cross the yard. From the door a big man with an apron stretched across his belly bowed to her. The landlord, no doubt. On the far side men lounged, talking, several of them in navy-blue uniforms. She kept walking towards the landlord, ignoring them as a lady should, Waters at her heels.
‘Good evening, ma’am. Would you be requiring a room?’
‘Indeed, and with a private parlour if you have one available.’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s just the one bedchamber left—quiet, though on the small side. But all the parlours are taken.’
That would mean dining in the common room. Averil bit her lip—was it better to stay here where the host seemed respectable and she was sure of a room at least, or carry on and risk another inn?
‘The lady may have my rooms,’ a voice said. ‘I have no pressing need for a parlour.’
She was tired and imagining things. Averil turned. A tall naval officer, his cocked hat under his arm exposing his neatly barbered black head, bowed. ‘Your servant, ma’am. Landlord, please have my traps shifted at once. The bed—’ the amused grey eyes lifted to Averil’s face ‘—has not been slept in.’
‘Captain d’Aunay.’ There was no breath left in her lungs for questions.
‘My pleasure, ma’am.’ He bowed again and walked away without a second glance. The perfect gentleman.
‘Well, that’s all right then,’ the landlord said, his delight at being able to satisfy both customers apparent. ‘I’ll show you up at once, ma’am.’
My pleasure … The bed has not been slept in. Yet.
‘This was fortunate, miss, the captain being here.’ Waters looked with approval at the meal the servant had set out on the round table in the parlour. ‘Nice rooms, and quiet, too.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ They were ideal, Averil told herself. A trundle bed for Waters to sleep on in the same chamber as herself and no way to the bedchamber except through the parlour door, which had a stout lock on the inside. What did she think was going to happen? That Luc would stroll in, evict her maid and ravish her? Or that she would lose all self-control and go and seek him out? Either was unthinkable.
Averil eyed the door again, wishing she could lock it now, but the servant would be in and out while they were eating and afterwards to clear the table. She would think Averil had run mad if she had to have the door unlocked every time.
‘I didn’t recognise Captain d’Aunay for a moment, miss. Scrubs up well, doesn’t he?’ Waters chatted away. ‘Not that he’ll ever be handsome, exactly, not with that nose and that stubborn chin. Wasn’t it a coincidence, him being here?’
The girl was not making snide remarks, Averil decided, it was simply her own conscience nagging, telling her that this could not possibly be chance.
‘He is a fighting man, not a courtier,’ she said. ‘Doubtless a prominent nose is no handicap at sea. Eat up, Waters, before your dinner gets cold.’
‘Yes, miss.’ Waters attacked the steak-and-oyster pie with relish. ‘What sort of house has Lord Bradon got, miss?’ she asked after a few minutes.
‘He is the heir, so the properties actually belong to his father, the earl,’ Averil explained, trying to recall the details. ‘There is a large town house in Mayfair and then Kingsbury, the country seat in Buckinghamshire. And I believe there is a shooting box somewhere as well.’
‘And one day you’ll be the countess.’ Waters pursued a piece of carrot round the plate. ‘That’s wonderful, miss.’
‘Yes.’ Indeed it was. Her great-grandfather had sold fruit and vegetables, her grandfather had opened a shop selling tea and coffee and her father had built on that start and become a wealthy merchant with a knighthood. Now he wanted connections and influence in England for his sons, her brothers. Mark and John were not expected to soil their hands with commerce but to become English landed gentry. With her help they would make good marriages, buy estates, become part of the establishment.
Averil had never had to do a hand’s turn of work in her life, only to live in the lap of luxury and become a lady. Now it was her duty to make her contribution to the family fortunes. But she could not take marriage vows and deceive her new husband.
A tap on the door heralded the servant who cleared the plates and dishes and left an apple tart and a jug of cream in their place. Averil ate, absently listening to Waters’s wistful hopes that Lord Bradon might have a place for her in his establishment.
The door behind creaked open. ‘Thank you, we have finished. You may clear now and bring a pot of tea in about an hour,’ Averil said as she folded her napkin and stood up.
There was no sign of the servant. Luc stood in the open doorway, filling it.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Captain d’Aunay. Is there something you wish to say to me?’ How calm she sounded. It was as though someone else entirely was speaking, not the woman whose pulse was racing and whose mouth had suddenly lost all moisture.
He smiled and the maid jumped to her feet. ‘I’ll go and—’
‘Stay here, Waters.’ Averil gestured to a chair on one side of the empty fireplace. ‘Sit there, if you please.’