“Never forget it!”
Melody picked up the dish of tea, sugar, and cream from the service area before heading back out into the dining room. She served the Duke and steward with a polite smile on her face. “There you are. Your lunch should be soon to follow.”
“I don’t suppose that darling cook could join us?” Caleb cooed.
“I’m afraid she is hard at work preparing for dinner,” Melody informed him, mildly amused. It was adorable to see a man so taken with Betsy.
“Very well,” he grumbled. “Could I send her back a glass of wine?”
Melody let out one laugh before catching herself, needing to compose herself. “I need my head cook sober, Mr. Ridlington.”
“Yes, good man. Get a handle on yourself,” Zachariah chuckled to his friend before looking at Melody. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“It is no trouble. Let me know when you are ready to head to your room,” she nodded.
Melody then retreated back to her desk, continuing her paperwork. Her mind was preoccupied with the nobility sitting in her dining room. She was curious as to how the men had found their way back to her inn so soon. There was, of course, Caleb’s infatuation with Betsy, but would the Duke be so entertained by his friend’s fancy to dedicate so much time to it? There was no telling, and Melody tried to dismiss her curiosity.
Quite some time passed before the two men emerged from the dining room. Melody stood immediately and nodded at the Duke, “Follow me.” She guided them up to their room, just as she had in their previous stay. “You will find the room just the same as last time. If there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, do not hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Miss Balfour,” Zachariah nodded. “We will be back down for dinner.”
Caleb sighed heavily as he sank down onto the chaise lounge. “Do you think that Miss Lovell will join us for dinner?”
“I don’t know,” Zachariah replied, sitting down at the desk as he had last time they were in the inn. “Can you focus on nothing more than your idle infatuations? We are in the midst of a massive discovery, old man.”
“The discovery of what? It is not as if Miss Balfour is operating in secrecy.”
“While that may be true,” Zachariah began, “that does not mean she has been discovered. Think about it. You yourself have said that you have never met a female innkeeper.”
“This is true,” Caleb grumbled, clearly not enthused to speak on any subject matter that wasn’t Betsy Lovell. “It does not mean that she is a discovery, however.”
“I beg to disagree. There is a great deal we will learn here, Caleb,” Zachariah sighed.
“What shall we learn then?”
“That is not for me to decide,” he shook his head. “It is up to Miss Balfour what she is willing to share.”
Zachariah’s mind fell back to the ball just a few nights earlier, and how vapid the women had been. Not one had held his interest as deeply as Melody had. He longed for an independent woman like Melody. Perhaps, if Adelaide proved to be different from her counterparts, even despite their staggering age difference, Zachariah’s interest would have been piqued.
The men busied themselves for the evening with reading their papers and discussing the politics of the day, doing what they would have done even if they were back at the Livingston estate. It was dreadfully boring, bur required to maintain the business of the dukedom.
Both men alike counted down the hours for dinner, waiting for their bellies to rumble before they would descend back down to the dining room. “I am so utterly bored,” Zachariah moaned.
“What is the matter, old chap, not used to the commoners’ conditions?”
“Do not pull class rank on me,” he grumbled. “How am I not meant to be bored when we are locked inside of a room, with all business discussed?”
“Why don’t we go down to the dining room and have a drink before dinner?” Caleb suggested.
Zachariah contemplated the idea. He was a man fond of nursing a glass of wine or gin in the evening. It would be a good time to sip a fine liquor while soaking in the atmosphere of the female owned and operated inn. “I cannot think of anything better to do,” the Duke nodded.
The two men rose from their positions and headed down the stairs. As they moved through the building, he took note of the environment. It would be too easy to call the inn cozy. It had a worn character to it that told the story of years of use. Zachariah entertained himself with thoughts of the generations before him lingering within, people wandering up and down its halls, calling the inn home for days at a time while folks traveled through the area.
It was sundown when the two appeared once more in the dining room, and dinner service was in full swing. The Duke and steward moved to the bar, settling in at the far side of the counter, leaving several stools available between them and the next person.
“Look at us, mingling with the commoners,” Caleb teased.
“What will you have?” Melody asked, not looking at them as she poured several drinks of gin for other patrons.
Zachariah found himself admiring her focus, caring more for the folks who provided her usual business than waiting hand and foot on the nobility in her presence. “A glass of wine for myself,” Zachariah called to her.
“I would fancy a spot of whiskey, myself,” Caleb added on.
Her gaze never fell to them as she retrieved the proper glasses and poured them their drinks, sliding them across the polished countertop before continuing about her duties. Zachariah swirled the red wine that he was served before taking a sip. He was welcomed by the warm notes of cherries and plums. “Decadent,” he commented as he lowered his glass.
“She does have some mighty fine beverages, does she not?” Caleb chuckled.
Zachariah eyed Melody as she buzzed about her guests. “It is mighty curious how a woman has come into possession of such fine drinks.”
“Even the proudest distillery has their price,” Caleb speculated.
His own heart faltered at the thought, figuring that Melody had to pay more than any other innkeeper for her liquors and wines for no other reason but that she was a woman.
The men made idle chatter as they nursed their drinks, but Zachariah’s focus was on Melody, watching as she hopped table to table to tend to the regulars. She struck up such warm conversation with them all, knowing the name of each patrons’ parents and children. He was certain if he lingered about long enough, he would discover she knew the name of their horses as well.
Melody was becoming ever more curious about Zachariah and his own fascination with the struggles of womankind. As he watched her hold her own against a litany of guests, Zachariah could not quite make sense of the notion that women could not hold their own.
The evening eventually led to rumbling bellies. Without guidance, the men walked to their usual table and waited for service. “I certainly hope Miss Lovell can join us,” Caleb sighed.
“I am sure that they will entertain your boyish fancy once more,” Zachariah chuckled.
Melody came around, filling their glasses with wine as she said, “Your dinner will soon be served. It is smoked duck in a red wine sauce with plums, green beans, and a jam roly-poly for dessert.”
“Sounds absolutely decadent,” Caleb grinned.
Melody was preoccupied, giving them a nod as she turned to the call, “Oh, dovey pie!”
“If you will excuse me,” she murmured before walking away.
The two men raised their glasses of wine, self-satisfied smirks on their face as they clanked glasses. Their focus was then disrupted by a gasp and a hush falling over the dining room.
Chapter 6
“You need dinner first, Obadiah,” Melody had pleaded with the drunk.
“I am sick of you women trying to manage my every move,” he slurred.
“You have been in here all day, drinking away all of our sherry without more than a few mouthfuls of food,” Melody protested, shaking her head.
“Do you no
t know your place?” he huffed.
Obadiah gave her a challenging look before a disgusting grin dominated his old face. Melody took a deep breath and once more, tried to reason with him. “I know my place, Obadiah. I am the innkeeper of this establishment—”
A firm hand gripped her bottom, a gasp escaping her and those at the surrounding tables. “You may be parading as an innkeeper, but you are nothing more than a sweet piece of—”
Melody pinched his ear and raised him from the table, “I will not be disrespected in my own inn. You have clearly had too much sherry to use your senses.”
Obadiah’s grin only grew, “You cannot keep your hands off me, can you, Melody?”
“It is Miss Balfour to the likes of you,” she hissed.
Before she could say more, Obadiah bravely pressed his hands to her chest with a hungry, ravenous look in his eye. She gasped and reared back a hand, slapping him across the face.
“How dare you! I have been nothing but kind to you, Obadiah. You must leave at once,” she ordered, pushing him to the door. “You do not come back again. You need to sober up and return to your senses before you find yourself in anymore trouble. I have never been more offended than I have in this moment! You have embarrassed me in front of a dining room full of paying customers.”
“You act so coy,” he grumbled, fumbling to fight against her pushing. “You know you want me, Melody. Do you want me to slither into your room tonight? Warm those sheets in ways they have not been in years?”
“You are a sick old man,” she spat, pushing him to the door. “I once again say, do not return! I have had enough of your antics, Obadiah. You have now gone too far. You have caused me enough embarrassment for one day. One lifetime!”
Two footmen sitting nearby jumped to her assistance, grabbing the arms of Obadiah and dragging him through the door and carrying him out to the street. When they returned, Melody expressed her thanks and ordered a maid, “Bring these good men a drink of their choice.”
Melody turned on a heel and headed back into the dining room, cheeks reddened by the display which her lovely patrons had borne witness to. Never, in all her years of being an innkeeper, had she faced such horrible embarrassment than Obadiah had just forced her to endure. She headed for the kitchen, needing to voice her frustrations and humiliation to Betsy. As she headed on her path, she witnessed the Duke staring in her direction, wide-eyed as he scrambled to his feet.
In her confused haze, Melody turned around. She gasped at the sight of Obadiah rushing toward her with a vase in hand. Her hands raised to block her face as he closed the distance. Then, in a dizzying fashion, she witnessed Zachariah grab the vase from Obadiah and push him back with a single shove on his chest.
“I suggest you leave at once before I have you arrested for public indecency and harassment,” the Duke stated to the man, more evenly than Melody would have been able to vocalize in such a calm manner.
Obadiah eyed Zachariah, huffing in disbelief. He began toward Melody once more, and the Duke put a hand on his chest to stop him.
“Leave. At once!”
Stumbling back, Obadiah eyed both of them before hurrying out of the building. Melody smoothed her skirt, her eyes fixated on Zachariah as his stance relaxed slowly and his gaze fell to her. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“As I said, call me Zachariah,” he muttered. He sniffed and straightened his shoulders, clearly trying to shake the unsavory scene from his body. “Would you and Betsy join us for dinner?”
“Of course,” she nodded. “Drinks shall be on the house.”
“That is not necessary—”
“It is after what you have just done,” Melody insisted. “I will not take no for an answer.”
“Very well,” Zachariah muttered. “We shall await your company.”
They parted ways, Melody headed into the kitchen. “Betsy!” she cried. The bustling kitchen came to a standstill for a moment until her eyes fell onto her head cook. She hurried over to her, her hands flat against the worktop. “Obadiah just put his hands on me! Then he snuck up from behind and tried to bash my head in with the flower vase by the front door—I am sure that he dumped all the water and flowers themselves onto the foyer floor. Can you believe that terrible old man?”
“My heavens,” Betsy said, awed. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine,” Melody huffed. “The Duke actually disarmed the man. As I know a man of nobility has grace, I am quite shocked with how well he handled the scene.”
“Sounds like the Duke is your hero,” the cook smirked.
“Indeed,” Melody responded flatly, “Which gets me to my next point. They would like for us to join them for dinner again.”
Betsy eyed her then. “You think I can leave the kitchen on a Saturday night?”
“Come now, Betsy. The man possibly saved my life. Besides that, do you really think we have a choice? He is a Duke.”
Betsy let out a long-winded sigh, wiping her floured hands on her apron. Without a word, Betsy headed out into the dining room, calling back the order for their table on her way out. Melody hurried to catch up to her, sitting down next to her as they joined the nobility.
“I am so glad that you do not have a kitchen resting on your back, or any responsibility other than following the Duke around like a sweet little puppy dog, lapping up dishes of wine and prepared food. If you did, I fear that it might humble you and prevent you from calling a head cook away from her brigade in the middle of a busy dinner service,” Betsy mouthed off, rather breezily, to Caleb as she settled into the table.
“Betsy,” Melody warned under her breath. Betsy lifted a hand and waved off her friend’s plead for peace.
“Don’t be silly, Melody. I have nothing more to do than delight every noble steward who graces the halls of the Gentle Rose.”
With dread, Melody’s attention turned to Caleb and Zachariah. The two men looked at one another as a humored, crooked grin took over Caleb’s face. He placed a hand over his chest, “You do have my sincerest of apologies, Miss Lovell. You must understand my inability to resist feasting upon your beauty while I feast upon your fine cooking.”
He then dared to reach across the table and lift Betsy’s hand, moving to give the back of her hand a chaste kiss. Betsy noticed the advance and snatched her hand away from him. “I will ask for you to contain yourself, Mr. Ridlington.”
He blinked, embarrassed. Melody’s attention flickered to Zachariah, who was failing to wipe the proud look from his face. He seemed approving of Betsy’s behavior, rather than mortified.
What a peculiar man the Duke is. Certainly anyone of his status would have ordered Betsy out of their sight. Not before reminding her of her status and his own, of course.
Melody waved to a maid to request wine for herself and Betsy before addressing the Duke.
“I am afraid that I did not appropriately express my gratitude for your actions, Zachariah.”
Before she could continue on with her appreciation for his interference in the altercation with the drunkard, the Duke put up a hand to silence her platitudes.
“Your company and hospitality this fine evening is enough thanks, Miss Balfour. I only hope that you are all right.”
She nodded, “I am fine. A bit flustered, perhaps.”
“Who was that dreadful man?” Caleb questioned, swirling his wine.
The two women exchanged bemused glances before Melody responded, “Obadiah Caney—the town drunk. I have no idea where he gets his money, as he spends almost as much time in here as I do. He sits about, drinking all the sherry his belly can handle. He has pulled many stunts over the years, but never something as bold and heinous as tonight.”
“What sort of stunts?” Zachariah inquired.
Melody shook her head, pouring a glass of wine from the bottle the maid brought over. “Trying to skip paying his bill—causing a scene in the morning following such a spell of drinking that I had no choice but to send him to a room to sleep it off. He would argue that
he did not request the room so he should not be charged. Once tried to pay for his drinks with the money that another guest had left on their table. Incessantly calls me dovey pie.”
The look on her face expressed her disgust for the nickname.
“Well, hopefully he will remember the account of this evening and will not pester you any longer,” Zachariah stated firmly. “Do you have men that you rely on to handle such matters?”
“No. Only kind-hearted patrons like the men you observed tonight. Though most of the time, I handle the men of Obadiah’s nature on my own.”
“You are a truly remarkable woman, Miss Balfour.”
“If I am to call you Zachariah, then I see it appropriate for you to call me Melody,” she said, sparking a smile on his lips.
Desperately Inn Love with the Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 5
