His host’s eyes widened. “Thee and Mrs. North?”
“Aye.”
Richards extended a hand. “Wait till I tell the wife. I suspected as much. She deserves a good man after that Reginald. All the best to thee both.”
Munro accepted the hearty handshake. “I thank ye.”
He left the inn and walked towards the shop. Richards wasn’t a cruel man like Caradog who deliberately exploited his employees. It just seemed to be universally accepted that orphaned waifs were fair game for any task at hand. Society apparently thought it was doing them a favor condemning them to a hard life of long hours and menial labor.
The shop door was locked, as he’d anticipated. He tapped lightly, eagerly hoping he was early enough to break his fast with Sarah and Giles.
The boy appeared at the window, bleary-eyed and hair run amok, but his face lit up with a grin when he saw Munro. He ran off to get the key, throwing himself into Munro’s arms once the door was unlocked. “You won’t regret it. Taking me to Scotland, I mean. I’ll work hard. Much harder than I do now. You won’t regret it. I promise.”
Munro maneuvered them both inside, his heart filled with a sense of rightness. “I ken, laddie. Now, is Mrs. North up?”
Giles took a step back, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. “Before dawn. She’s making preparations to visit you.”
Munro grimaced. “I hope she willna be too annoyed when I arrive upstairs unannounced.”
Giles’ grin returned. “Mum’s the word,” he whispered.
They chuckled like two naughty boys engaged in a conspiracy.
Sarah thought she heard someone knocking at the door. Hopefully, Giles had told the early bird it wasn’t yet opening time. If she didn’t get a move on, it would be too late to visit Munro. “Oatmeal’s ready,” she shouted to Giles.
“I hope there’s enough for three.”
She whirled at the sound of Munro’s voice behind her. How could a man of his size move so quietly? “What are you doing out of bed?”
He took the empty bowls, put them on the table and gathered her into his arms. “I couldna stay away from ye another minute.”
“But—”
He nibbled her lips. “But naught. I want to go to St. Martin’s today.”
“You’ll make yourself sick again,” she murmured half-heartedly, secretly elated to see him looking much better.
“Being with ye is the best medicine. If we hurry, we can both go to see Reverend Grove and get the process underway.”
“I’ll mind the shop for the first while, if needs be,” Giles offered, appearing at the top of the stairs.
Strictly speaking, it was against Guild rules to leave an apprentice in charge, but Munro’s obvious burning desire to wed the undesirable Sarah North overcame her resistance. She might never understand why, but she accepted that he loved her. “I’ll make more porridge,” she replied.
Munro had always been an independent fellow who enjoyed his own company. Walking briskly down Edgbaston Street with Sarah on his arm, he realized he was half a man without her.
They found Reverend Grove in the entryway of the church engaged in conversation with a gentleman clad in expensive raiment.
“Mr. Addison,” Sarah whispered.
Judging by the broad smile on the iron magnate’s face, the news about his son must be good.
“Mrs. North,” Addison gushed, taking her hand in both of his in order to lavish kisses on her knuckles. “How can I ever thank you?”
Munro tamped down the possessive jealousy that suddenly seized him. “I dinna believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said, offering a hand. “Munro Pendray.”
Addison accept the gesture with a limp handshake. He was clearly more interested in talking about his son.
“Justin has been spared the noose,” he told Sarah. “A few months in Peck Lane prison, but I’ll make sure it isn’t too harsh. Of course, Battersby has expelled him, but we’ll find another school.”
Munro couldn’t resist. “I hear there’s a fine institution in Shrewsbury.”
Addison looked directly at him for the first time. “Yes. You’re right.”
Blushing, Sarah squeezed Munro’s hand, but he was unrepentant. The man had said nothing about the other boy implicated in the poisoning.
Grove broke the silence that followed. “And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company so early in the day?”
It was irritating that Addison lingered. However, there was no choice but to continue. “Sarah and I would like you to marry us.”
He swallowed his annoyance when Addison slapped him on the back.
“Wonderful. A fine choice, young man.”
Grove smiled broadly. “It will be my honor. We can announce the first banns Sunday morning.”
“I’d prefer we procure a license.”
The cleric hesitated. “Of course, of course. Licenses are issued by the bishop. I can—”
“I’ll see to it,” the iron magnate announced. “The bishop and I are old friends.”
Munro itched to tell the pompous fellow they didn’t need his interference, but Sarah interrupted. “We really appreciate your help.”
She was right, of course. “Aye,” he agreed. “My thanks.”
Addison raised an eyebrow. “You’re a Scot.”
Munro clenched his jaw. Had the man just noticed his brogue?
Sarah came to his rescue again. “Yes. We plan to move to my fiancé’s estate in Scotland after we’re married.”
Clever lass.
“Estate?”
“Aye,” Munro replied smugly. “I’m Viscount Glenheath of Kilmer.”
Addison gaped, his eyes darting here and there, clearly calculating how this revelation might work to his advantage. “What about the shop? That will only leave your apprentice—”
It gave Munro immense satisfaction to declare, “We intend to foster Giles and take him with us.”
Grove beamed. “God will bless you for your generosity of spirit.”
Munro got carried away. “And Luke as well,” he added, relieved when Sarah linked arms with him and nodded.
“Luke?” the minister asked.
Munro realized he didn’t even know the boy’s surname. “At The Swan.”
“Ah, the Harrison boy.”
Butterflies
Time passed in a happy blur for Sarah. Optimism for the future was an unfamiliar, heady feeling. Even the prospect of marrying Reginald and beginning a new life in Birmingham had been tinged with a strange sense of foreboding. Perhaps, she’d sensed his underlying cruelty.
Munro busied himself doing odd jobs that had been put off for a long while. He fixed the temperamental pump in the yard, mended a couple of cupboards with broken hinges and helped Giles clean out the coal bunker. “You two look like chimney sweeps,” she teased, but the easy relationship between them warmed her heart.
Giles at first seemed hesitant about the idea of Luke joining their little family.
“’Tis to be expected,” Munro told her. “He’ll come round.”
He asked for the boy’s help making a second pallet in the workroom for Luke. Giles was soon hammering away enthusiastically. “I always wanted a baby brother,” he kept saying.
She and Munro limited their contact to chaste kisses and cuddles. He returned to The Swan every evening, admitting the close quarters of the shop made it difficult to keep his hands to himself. However, he was determined to postpone their ultimate union until they were married. The waiting and wanting was unbearable.
The day after their conversation with Grove and Addison, the two men appeared in the shop. The handful of customers back away respectfully to allow them access to the counter. Sarah got the feeling everyone knew the reason for their visit.
“True to his word,” the cleric announced, brandishing a piece of paper, “Mr. Addison has procured your license in record time.”
The customers applauded, some slapping the grinning Giles on the back, confirming her suspicio
ns the entire neighborhood was happy for them and knew of their plans for the boy.
Much to Munro’s sniggering amusement, the magnate blushed, “The bishop and I are old friends, as I mentioned.”
“This means you can be married as soon as you like,” Grove declared.
Everyone looked expectantly at Munro.
“The morrow sounds good to me.”
His wink sent tendrils of longing spiraling into Sarah’s womb. It would mean closing the shop for a day, but she had no intention of letting that detail get in the way of her happiness. “Me too,” she replied.
Munro returned to The Swan, glad the morrow would bring an end to his bachelor state. He had never craved a woman like he craved Sarah. She’d endured a difficult past. Unpleasant memories had a way of rearing their ugly heads when a body least expected it. Once Sarah was his, he’d be able to help her through those times.
He was also looking forward to the responsibilities that came with fostering two young boys. Who would have thought it? Munro Pendray—instant father. He paused in the doorway of the inn and inhaled the chilly air, aware he was taking on an awesome task. But Sarah had been abandoned as a bairn. She understood better than he did.
Richards hailed him. “I hear the date’s set for the morrow.”
Munro chuckled. “Aye. News travels fast.”
“Birmingham might be a growing town, but this is a close-knit community.”
“Will ye join me for a tankard of ale?” Munro asked. “I’ve things to discuss with ye.”
“I’ll fetch it through to the dining room.”
Minutes later, they sat across a scarred wooden table in the empty room.
“I expect thou’ll want a wedding feast served here?” Richards began. “We can do ploughman’s lunch, or—”
“Aye, that sounds fine, but first I need to talk about Luke.”
The innkeeper took a swig of his ale. “Luke?”
“Aye, is he indentured to ye?”
“No. I paid the orphanage to take him off their hands, but the understanding is he’ll go back there eventually. Growing lads become too expensive to feed and clothe.”
Munro resisted the urge to punch the fellow in the nose. He wondered how many other boys had been sent back to the orphanage when they became too costly to take care of. However, Richards was just a hard-working man facing the financial realities of running a demanding business. “Sarah and I want to foster him,” he explained. “We’ll recompense ye for yer outlay.”
The landlord took another swig of ale. “I thought thy intention was to move to Scotland.”
“We’ll take Luke with us. We can give him a better life.”
“True. But I’ll have to find another lad.”
It was on the tip of Munro’s tongue to offer to accompany him to the institution to arrange for another boy, but he might end up fostering every orphan in their care. “We’ll see ye dinna suffer in that regard.”
The landlord drummed his thick fingers on the table. “I’ll need Luke if I’m to cater a banquet for thee.”
Munro itched to tell the boy the good news this very moment. His pallet was ready. God only knew where he slept in the inn, probably in the stables. But he couldn’t just turn up back at the shop with him. Sarah was preparing for her wedding day. “We’ll tell him on the morrow.”
Rubbing his smooth chin like an old graybeard, Giles thoughtfully perused the three outfits Sarah had laid out on the bed after clearing the table.
She grew impatient. “What do you think?”
“The red.”
She exhaled. “I was hoping you’d choose that one. I was wearing it when I first met Munro.”
“Perfect,” he agreed.
“With the long-sleeved linen smock underneath the jacket,” she suggested. “And a linen coif, instead of a bonnet.”
He nodded. “I’m getting excited.”
Excitement didn’t begin to describe Sarah’s emotions. “I’ve got butterflies in my tummy.”
“My new cape will make me look like a gentleman,” he said.
It was a sudden reminder of her mother. “I wish Mama was still here to see us wed.”
“Mrs. Ward knew it would happen,” he reassured her.
“You’re too old for your years,” she quipped, tousling his hair. “Now, get some sleep. We’ve a big day ahead of us.”
He put his arms around her waist. “I love you,” he murmured before disappearing down the stairs.
Sarah had to sit on the edge of the bed as tears welled. Life had changed completely. It was difficult to understand how it had come about so rapidly. Loneliness, degradation, and resentment—the love of a good man had banished them all. Thank goodness he’d been persistent in the face of her rejection. Now, she had received a gift she’d despaired of ever having—the love of a child.
She undressed and hung all her clothes on the peg. After tomorrow, she’d have to find room for Munro’s belongings. Survival with Reginald in the cramped space had been achieved principally by avoiding him as much as possible. She was drawn to Munro like a moth to the flame and hoped they didn’t get on each other’s nerves once the magic wore off.
She snorted. That wasn’t likely to happen for many a year, if ever.
However, a solution to the dilemma of the shop had to be found sooner rather than later.
She climbed into bed alone for the last time. She’d found a great love, just like her mother, but she grieved that Mary Ward and Henry Marten had been denied the right to marry.
On A Wink And A Prayer
Munro slept fitfully, the events of the past weeks playing over and over in his mind. Things might easily have turned out differently, but Fate had taken a hand to ensure he and Sarah would be joined in matrimony.
The landlord had gladly agreed to leave the washtub in his room. “A man should smell sweet for his own wedding,” Richards declared.
It was true, but Munro was loathe to burden Luke again.
Shortly after dawn, the boy appeared with a pail of hot water.
“Can ye nay ask one o’ the scullery lads to help ye?” Munro asked.
It was the first time he’d seen the boy sulk. “This is the last day I’ll have the chance to serve thee,” he replied. “I want to do it myself.”
A quarter hour later, he stepped into the tub. It took a few minutes before he managed to soap the signet ring off his little finger. It was a gift from his parents in honor of his twenty-first birthday, but it was all he had to give Sarah for the moment. He was soaking in three inches of rapidly cooling water when Luke reappeared with clean shirts and his boots. “I made sure Mrs. Richards had them ready for thee today, and I polished thy boots.”
The lad stayed to help him dress, chatting enthusiastically about the impending nuptials. It was more than tempting to blurt out his hopes for the boy who took pride in his work, menial as it was, but all he said was, “Ye’ve the makings of a fine valet, young mon.”
Luke smiled. “Someday, mayhap.”
“What do ye think?” he asked, standing in front of the mirror. “These togs are travel-worn, to say the least.”
“Mrs. North won’t care about that,” Luke replied. “She loves thee.”
When Munro arrived downstairs for breakfast, Richards winked at him so often, he feared the man might have something stuck in his eye. “Preparations are well under way for luncheon,” the innkeeper assured him, glancing surreptitiously at Luke coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of oatmeal. “Haven’t said naught.”
He was surprised when every other patron in the crowded dining room wished him well and offered congratulations. Many were regular patrons with whom he’d barely exchanged a word, yet they seemed genuinely glad for him—and Sarah. She was obviously well-respected in the neighborhood.
A cheer went up as he left the dining room after finishing his oatmeal.
“I want to be early,” he told Richards. “Just to make sure all is in readiness at St. Martin’s.”
“I can’t leave the inn, but Mrs. Richards’ll fetch the lad to see thee wed.”
Elated, he shook the man’s hand. “I appreciate that, and so will Sarah.”
“Only right,” he replied.
Luke appeared with his cloak and hat. “Good luck, Mr. Pendray.”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he fished in his pocket and gave the lad a shilling.
Luke shook his head. “It’s too much,” he protested, gawking at the coin in his palm.
Munro closed little fingers over the silver and enveloped the small fist with his own. “Nay, ‘tisna near enough.”
Luke glanced at his employer, secreting the coin in his pocket only when Richards nodded—and winked at Munro yet again.
He set off down Edgbaston Street. It took willpower, but he didn’t call in at the shop.
Panting, Giles arrived at the top of the stairs to the apartment. “Mr. Pendray just went by on his way to the church,” he announced.
Sitting on the edge of the bed she’d made and remade twice with fresh linens, Sarah swallowed hard. She’d been washed, dressed and ready for two hours, too nervous to eat or even move, lest she spill something on her dress, or get sweaty, or scuff the boots Giles had polished to a shine they’d never had when they were new.
As if sensing her reluctance to tackle the last task, the lad brought her comb and coif. “Shall I do it?” he asked.
Tugging a bone comb through her snarled curls was an exasperating and painful task, but no one had ever offered to do it for her before. “Please,” she replied.
She closed her eyes when he knelt behind her on the bed, wishing she’d caught a glimpse of Munro as he passed.
“First time I ever combed a lady’s hair,” he quipped.
His touch was so gentle, she hadn’t noticed he’d begun. “Feels good,” she murmured.
Kingslayer's Daughter (The House of Pendray Book 2) Page 20
