Aaron leapt from the carriage and tethered the horses’ reins to a post. With his greatcoat flapping in the breeze and his Hessian boots crunching on the gravel underfoot, he walked around the carriage with hardly a noticeable limp. Stretching up his arms, he waited to assist her down from the high perch of the phaeton.
Emma slid with graceful ease into his arms, and as her body pressed against the solid wall of his broad chest, she could feel the hard, muscular strength of his embrace envelop her. For a brief second, he held her close, and it was all that was needed for a flame of desire to be ignited deep within. An intense heat invaded her. It was a burning hotness that she’d never known before, and it stirred her longing to discover more.
Aaron released his hold.
“I happen to know Lord Stratton.” He sounded distracted, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. “He is thought to be quite handsome and not a bad sort of chap once you get to know him. In my opinion, he is not at all like the person you have described. He is also considered to be an extremely eligible catch and has most of London’s debutants chasing him to the altar. I know for a fact he cannot step inside Almack’s without mothers and matrons seeking his hand for their daughters and protégés. You should be honored he has proposed.”
“Honored be damned, sir.” With defiance, Emma tilted her chin on high. Why did men think a woman had to be grateful for a proposal? She felt no spark of desire for Lord Stratton and could see no reason to feel honored. “A merchant’s daughter I might be, but I’m not a commodity to be bartered with. And I know that is how Lord Stratton sees me. It is obvious he is only offering me a title in exchange for the substantial dowry my mother left me. I might add that he is also interested in the prospect of inheriting some of my father’s fortune.”
Aaron pulled her portmanteau and a bandbox from the carriage. As he did so, she glanced briefly down at his leg. He might walk with a limp, but he was certainly not incapacitated.
“Can you manage?” she asked, concerned.
He ignored her question. “I’ll ask Griffin or one of the stable hands to fetch the remainder of your luggage. Is there anything essential amongst the baggage that you will need for tonight?”
“No, thank you. What I have in the portmanteau you are holding will suffice.”
With careful steps, they walked across the yard and entered the inn.
Although it was early summer, a roaring log fire burned in the hearth and candles had been lit about the tavern. Evening was drawing in. It would soon be dusk, and Emma hoped Gresham was able to stable the horses before darkness fell.
Mr. Griffin, knowing money was coming his way, greeted them with a warm welcome and informed both lodgers that their rooms were prepared and ready for use.
Aaron shrugged off his greatcoat and tossed it carelessly onto a chair.
“Miss Brentry, will you join me for supper?” Aaron asked.
For a split-second, Emma hesitated. Then deciding no one of any consequence would discover they had spent the night under the same roof, or that while staying at The Stag and Hounds she had shared a meal with Aaron in the tavern’s public ale room, she readily accepted his offer.
“Yes, please. I would be delighted to take supper with you. But would you mind if I changed first? The dust from the road has made me quite filthy, and I should like to go to my room and dress in something that is clean.”
“Then if that is the case, I’ll carry your baggage to your room,” Aaron offered.
Emma looked hesitatingly at his leg. “Oh, no…please do not trouble yourself. I’m sure Mr. Griffin will oblige me by carrying my portmanteau. Will you not, Mr. Griffin?”
“Certainly, miss. I’d do anything to spare the major from carrying such a heavy load upstairs. Especially after what he’s done for his country.”
Emma thought it an intriguing comment but didn’t venture to question Mr. Griffin further. Instead, leaving Aaron in the taproom, she followed the landlord to her bedchamber. The stairs leading to the upper floors were rickety and narrow, and the floorboards on the landing squeaked with the weight of the landlord’s ample girth as they made their way along the passage.
As they passed a door, Mr. Griffin pointed to it and said, “Major Trent will be sleeping in here, miss. And you’ve been given the room next door.”
The room she was shown wasn’t overly large, but she thought it would do for the night. A three-quarter bed was against one wall, and beneath the window were a chair and table of sorts. In one corner of the room was a chest of drawers, upon which was an enormous, round, porcelain washbasin along with fresh towels and a jug of hot, steamy water. On the night table beside the bed, a candle holder, a flint, and a wax candle had been left for her to use.
Mr. Griffin left her to settle in, and as soon as the door was closed, she began making preparations for the evening ahead.
Washing her face and dressing in a simply styled gown, Emma was soon ready to join Aaron. She thought the blue, velvet, half-dress she was wearing more suited to The Stag and Hounds’ clientele than an evening dress of silk brocade she usually wore when dining at home with her father.
With a final look in the mirror, and pleased with what she saw reflected back, Emma opened the door of her bedchamber and made her way down the darkened stairwell. She was met at the foot of the stairs by the landlady, Mrs. Griffin.
“Evening, miss,” Mrs. Griffin bobbed a curtsy. “Mr. Trent has asked me to escort you to our best parlor. He said I was to wait for you to come downstairs and to make sure you didn’t return to the taproom.”
“The parlor?”
“Yes. Mr. Trent has hired our best parlor for the evening so you can both have supper in private. He didn’t want you bothered by that drunken crowd in there.” Mrs. Griffin pointed her thumb in the direction of the noisy taproom as they passed a closed door.
“It is very considerate of Mr. Trent to think of my needs.” Emma followed closely behind the landlady. “But I insist you let me have the reckoning for my own expenses in the morning, for I would not wish Mr. Trent to incur any costs on my behalf.”
Mrs. Griffin nodded. “In all the years I’ve known that gentleman, he’s never been tight-fisted with his blunt. He’s generous to a fault. Whenever he stops at the inn, he asks for the best and pays handsomely for it too.”
“If Mr. Trent decides to be generous with his purse, that is his choice. However, I still must insist on paying my own way. Mrs. Griffin, I think you will understand when I say I do not wish to be beholden to Mr. Trent, or any other gentleman, for my board and lodging.”
“Say no more. I understand completely, miss. When the need arises, Mr. Griffin and I can be as discrete as a man of the cloth in a confessional. No one needs to know that the two of you have lodged here.”
Not accustomed to explaining her actions to servants or innkeepers, Emma decided that in this instance, she would have to offer an account of the day’s happenings to Mrs. Griffin and make it absolutely clear that she and Mr. Trent were not known to one another.
“I can assure you this is a chance encounter,” Emma said. “I had not planned for the wheel of my carriage to break, nor had I intended to stay overnight at your excellent inn.”
Emma supposed that like Aaron, she too would have to be generous with payment. If she wished to ensure her reputation wasn’t sullied beyond repair and that Mr. and Mrs. Griffin’s lips were sealed, a lavish gratuity would have to be given.
Leading the way to the back of the inn, Mrs. Griffin reached a room, and with a work-worn hand, pushed open an oak door. Giving a curtsy in Mr. Trent’s direction, Mrs. Griffin stepped aside, allowing Emma to enter.
The room was of a reasonable size, and the few items within, especially the colorful Oriental rug before the inglenook fireplace, hinted of money having been spent. It seemed the Griffins were able to afford a little luxury in their lives.
Aaron was seated at a polished, oval table with his back to the flickering flames of the fire burning in the hearth, but
when Emma entered the room, he stood and bowed in greeting. In the dim light of the candles, Emma saw that he too had changed from daywear into evening attire. Now dressed in a tailcoat of cobalt blue under which an elaborately embroidered waistcoat was worn, he looked particularly handsome. And his silk pantaloons, tucked into polished Hessian boots, added elegance to his immaculate appearance. But it was the crisp, white, linen shirt, with its high points, and a freshly starched cravat tied to perfection in an intricate waterfall configuration that was the crowning glory.
Aaron looked resplendent, and realizing he had made an effort when dressing for supper, Emma felt slightly underdressed in comparison. Perhaps she ought to have worn her fine silks and donned her diamond-studded jewels after all.
In a rugged sort of way, Aaron was handsomely attractive. Even with the long, jagged scar running down the left side of his face, he could still be considered extremely fine-looking―at least by some ladies.
Mrs. Griffin bobbed another curtsy. “I’ll see supper is served straight away, sir. It shouldn’t take too long. And while you and Miss Brentry are eating, I’ll have the fires lit in your bedchambers so the rooms will be nice and warm for you when you both retire.”
“Thank you, that sounds most promising, Mrs. Griffin. And I’m sure Miss Brentry would like a warming pan in her bed to make sure the sheets are not damp. We would not wish her to take a chill from her night spent at The Stag and Hounds, would we?”
“Mr. Trent,” Mrs. Griffin said, aghast. “You ought to know me well enough to realize my sheets are always aired properly. But it shall be seen to. The young miss shall have a warming pan, just as you wish.”
Mrs. Griffin looked affronted at having her skills as an innkeeper questioned, and Emma, hastening to make amends for Aaron’s blunder, tried to clarify the matter.
“Mrs. Griffin, I’m sure Mr. Trent did not mean to offend in any way. And I am also sure your bedding is clean and aired. In fact, I know it is, for I have already been to the bedchamber and seen for myself how immaculate the room looks. You seem to be a woman who takes great pride in her home, and I see by the way this parlor has been so tastefully decorated, you would not skimp in your duties as a host.”
Emma suspected half of this conciliatory speech was lost on the landlady, but she hoped Mrs. Griffin realized she had faith in her ability to provide dry sheets and warm bedding.
When Mrs. Griffin at last left, Aaron pulled out a chair for Emma, and once seated at the table, they fell into conversation.
“I thought you showed good sense this afternoon, Miss Brentry.”
Aaron poured a glass of wine and passed it across the table. Placing the dark liquid to her lips, Emma took a sip of the heady spirit. It tasted sweet.
Sitting back in her chair and resting her arms casually upon the armrests, she smiled at Aaron and raised a brow questioningly.
“Really, sir? Enlighten me. In what way did I show good sense?”
Twirling the stem of his glass slowly between his long, slender fingers, Aaron glanced up and looked deep into her eyes.
“In deciding to spend the night at this inn…with me. When we met, night was already drawing in, and I can assure you, you would not have made it to Bath before darkness had fallen.”
“True, especially as my carriage has a wheel that is broken and cannot be moved. And do not forget that the eastbound stagecoach had also departed.”
Aaron nodded. “The Stag and Hounds might not be the best of posting houses in which to spend the night, but it is comfortable, and the Griffins are honest people. Having stayed here once before, I can assure you that you are not likely to be robbed in your sleep.”
“Mr. Trent.” She laughed. “If you are trying to reassure me, I must tell you that you are not succeeding. I have never stayed in an establishment such as this, and although the Griffins might be decent people, I intend to sleep with my eyes open and my pistol at my side.”
“You have a pistol?”
“Indeed I do. Ever since my father and I were held at gunpoint and robbed of a fortune and some prized family jewels, I always carry a pistol. I have been tutored in the art of marksmanship, and I assure you, I can hold my own.”
Emma reached for her reticule and was about to show Aaron her modest weapon when Mrs. Griffin appeared once again.
Mrs. Griffin entered the parlor room, only this time, she’d brought with her a serving girl carrying a tray laden with the makings of their supper. Having placed the food on the table, among which were large off-cuts of ham and beef, and thick wedges of cheeses to be eaten with chunks of warm, crusty bread, the girl then left the parlor.
Mrs. Griffin bobbed a curtsy. “Excuse me, Mr. Trent, but Mr. Griffin asked me to mention that the young lady’s horses have arrived and they’ve been stabled next to yours. They’re safe in the stalls with fresh hay and are bedded down for the night. Gresham is bunking with our ostlers in the shed behind the inn. He begged leave to tell his mistress that as soon as the sun’s up, he’ll ride to Saltford in search of a wheelwright.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Griffin. That will be all for now,” Aaron said with a nod of dismissal. “However, if you could, please tell Gresham that before retiring for the night, I shall visit the stables to make sure our horses have settled. I’m sure that will put his mind at rest.”
“Of course, sir.” The landlady was still standing in the doorway and was about to leave.
“This supper looks lovely, Mrs. Griffin,” said Emma. “Once again, I must thank you for making a room ready for me on such short notice. I will see you in the morning and shall settle the bill for my board and lodging before setting off for Bath.”
“Yes, miss. And I’m sure that should you accidentally forget to do so, Mr. Trent will oblige and see us right.”
With a wink and a toothless grin that was practically identical to that of her husband’s, Mrs. Griffin was gone, leaving Emma in the seclusion of the parlor with Aaron.
Chapter 4
Stabbing into the beef joint vigorously with a pronged fork in one hand, Aaron picked up a carving knife in the other and began slicing through the meat.
“I assume beef is to your liking, or would you prefer ham?” he asked. “The ham looks a little dry to me, but if you would like it with some cheese, I can cut you some.”
“Thank you, beef will do,” she said.
It felt strange dining alone with a man. Having a meal with her father didn’t count. But dining intimately with Aaron felt wickedly deceitful.
Aaron placed a few slices of beef on a platter and passed it to her.
“Oh, dear,” she exclaimed. “I just realized I forgot to ask Mrs. Griffin if she knows what time the stagecoach leaves for Bath in the morning. Do you happen to know? Does the coach arrive before or after noon?”
“And why would you wish to know that?” Aaron asked.
“Well, as my carriage cannot be repaired any time soon, and as I have to reach Bath by tomorrow, I have decided that come morning, I must complete my journey by stagecoach.”
“Stagecoach?” Aaron’s tapered fingers reached for a quizzing glass that was attached to a long, black ribbon tied around his neck. He raised the monocle to his eye and surveyed her with seemingly mock distaste.
Emma felt decidedly uncomfortable by his intense scrutiny, and shifting in her chair, she tried to avoid his teasing stare.
“Miss Brentry,” he said. Even in the dim light of the room, with only the glow from the fire and the few candles that were burning, she could see a hint of amusement shining in his eyes and his lips twitch with suppressed laughter. “If you should travel by stagecoach, I can assure you, your reputation will be well and truly ruined. The disgrace of spending the night with me at The Stag and Hounds will be nothing compared to the outrage you will receive if you travel by common stage. Arriving in Bath, alone, and on public transportation, you will be disowned by your father and ostracized by society.”
She thought the man obviously had a ridiculous sense of h
umor.
“Sir, I will not be spending the night with you—at least, not literally. And as for using the stagecoach, I agree, it will be somewhat unrefined to do so. So pray do tell me, what are my options?” She tilted her chin high and smiled.
“Well, I had considered offering you a ride in my phaeton. But only if you think it permissible. I would not wish to place you in an awkward predicament simply because we were to travel to Bath together. In doing so, you might be left open to criticism and the gossip of Bath’s notorious scandalmongers.”
“I think my reputation will survive such an event. Especially as I have no reputation to maintain or worry about.”
“Lord Stratton might think differently.”
Aaron leaned forward and reached for a chunk of bread. As he did so, his hand brushed casually against her arm. Emma didn’t know if his touch had been accidental or not, but it was certainly unexpected and unforeseen. Excited by his nearness, she tried in vain to control her fluttering heart.
“Mr. Trent, I have explained the situation between Lord Stratton and myself, and it need not concern you further. If what you say is true, that his lordship is considered to be an eligible catch and debutants swoon at the mere thought of becoming his wife, more than likely, he has already found another upon which to shower his attention. Perhaps I need not worry about his lordship’s pursuit of me.”
“Perhaps not…but I think you should. Lord Stratton can be very determined when he wants something…as can I.”
Emma laid her cutlery down and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Tell me, sir, I’m curious to know—what has brought you to The Stag and Hounds, and why are you lodging here tonight? Forgive me for saying, but you do not seem to be the sort of gentleman to frequent a place such as this. Also, why did Mr. Griffin call you Major?”
Aaron lifted his glass and took a hefty gulp of wine. Setting the glass down, he rose from his chair and went over to the hearth. The fire in the inglenook had died down, and kicking the smoldering logs with a polished Hessian boot, the embers were stirred and the fire sprang to life once again.
A Merchant's Daughter Page 3
