He floundered to a halt. It probably wasn’t a good idea to name the property to which they were heading, or give any hint that it belonged to him, or the man might guess who he was. And then the tale of what had befallen him this past few days would be all over the county in no time.
He’d be a laughing stock.
‘A likely tale,’ the farmer said. ‘Do you take me for an idiot? Come on—up you get,’ he said, jerking the gun in an up and down motion. ‘We’ll see what Jeffers has to say about this.’
Jeffers? Oh, no. He couldn’t risk being hauled up before the local magistrate. He’d had the wretched man over to dine once or twice when he’d been staying down here before.
‘Oh, no, please—there is no need for that,’ said Prudence plaintively. Then she elbowed him in the ribs. ‘I don’t know why you needed to make up such a silly story, darling.’
Darling? He turned to stare at her.
‘The truth is...’ She clasped her hands at her chest and gazed up at the man with the gun earnestly. ‘We are runaway lovers.’
‘Well, I dunno if that ain’t as bad,’ said the farmer. Although he did lower his gun just a touch.
‘I know—you must think we are wicked. But we are so very much in love. And my guardians are so strict. And, yes, it is rather shocking of us to defy them all, but we haven’t broken a single law. Except perhaps for trespassing on your land. And if only we could pay for spending the night in your barn we would. But, you see, we did get robbed. That part of Gregory’s story is true. So we haven’t a penny between us. However, we are perfectly happy to work for you for an hour or so to repay you for spending the night here. Aren’t we, darling?’
She turned and gave him a look loaded with meaning.
‘Work?’ The farmer tucked his gun under his arm and gave them a speculative look.
‘Well,’ said Prudence. ‘I’m sure you are a very busy man. Farms don’t run themselves, do they? And wouldn’t it be better to make us pay for our stay here than waste time running to fetch the local constable?’
‘Ar...’ said the farmer, scratching his chin. ‘There is that. And I can tell from yer voice that yer a lady. No beggarwoman I ever knew of spoke like you. Even though you are dressed like that.’ His eyes flicked over her rumpled dress, down to her bare feet. And narrowed.
‘You ain’t used to walking nowheres, either, are yer?’
Was Gregory imagining it, or did the farmer look as though he was starting to feel sorry for her?
‘No,’ she said plaintively, shaking her head.
He was. The farmer was definitely looking sorry for her. But then the state of her feet was enough to melt the hardest of hearts.
‘You’d best get up to the house, then, miss,’ said the farmer, albeit rather gruffly, ‘and get them feet seen to.’
‘Oh, that’s very kind of you, but—’
‘This ’ere chap of yourn can do some chores to pay for flattening what’s left of my hay.’
‘Oh, but—’
‘He’s right, P... darling.’ He glared at her warningly, hoping she’d get his hint not to reveal their names. Though she’d already called him Gregory, hadn’t she?
Thank goodness she didn’t know any of his other names, or they might all have come tumbling out.
‘Let me do some work while you get your blisters seen to. They robbed us in the night, you see,’ he informed the farmer. ‘At the last inn. Took all our luggage. My poor love has no stockings to wear and—’
‘I don’t want to hear about that sort of thing,’ said the farmer, taking a shocked step back at the mention of Prudence’s undergarments. ‘What I do want to know is what kind of work you can do. Don’t want you blundering about causing damage as I’ll have to clear up after.’
‘I have done a bit of work about the stables,’ he admitted, after only the briefest of pauses while he searched frantically for some skill he possessed which might be of use to a farmer.
The farmer glowered at him. Then at Prudence. ‘Run off with yer groom, have yer?’ He clucked his tongue. ‘Well, ain’t none of my business, I s’pose. Too late to do anything about it now, anyhow.’ He glanced meaningfully at the crushed hay, at the way Gregory’s arm stayed protectively round Prudence’s shoulder, and the way she leaned into him, one hand resting trustingly against his chest.
‘Come on, you,’ he said, pointing a stubby, gnarled finger at Gregory. ‘Let’s see what yer made of.’
The farmer’s voice was loaded with contempt. He might have some sympathy for Prudence, but he’d obviously cast Gregory in the role of evil seducer. For the second time in as many days he was being accused of the one thing he hadn’t done.