A Rose in Winter (31 page)

Lord Saxton's voice was like a breath of winter's north wind as he spoke. "You sold her too cheaply, mayor. The sum of five thousand pounds was but a mere pittance of what I was willing to pay." The brief chuckle that came held no humor. "But then, that is your loss. The matter is done with, and I have what I want."

Avery slowly sank into the chair behind him and closed his gaping mouth. "Ye mean... ye would o'... paid more for the twit?"

"I would easily have doubled the amount."

The mayor cast a glance about the room, feeling suddenly miserable. "Why... I'da been a rich man."

"I wouldn't feel too badly if I were you. It probably would not have lasted too long."

Avery peered at him closely, unable to mark the insult clearly. "If ye weren't intendin' ter bend me ear with complaints, why'd ye come?"

"I wanted to report an attack on my carriage." Lord Saxton saw the surprise of the other and further explained. "I was returning from Wirkinton with my wife when highwaymen tried to overtake us. Fortunately I was prepared for them."

"Yer coach, milord?"

"Aye! My coach."

"Ye say ye were expectin' 'em?"

"Not at that moment, but I had guessed that sooner or later they would try to take my coach."

"Seein's as how ye're here ter tell about it, I s'pect ye did 'em some damage."

"Two of the highwaymen were killed, and I would guess the rest were badly shaken."

"I ain't heard a word about it."

"For a mayor, you're not very well informed."

Avery blustered in hot anger until he felt the cold, unfaltering stare that seemed to pierce him through, and he promptly lost courage. " 'Tis the sheriff's duty ter tell me what happens here."

"Then perhaps I should have sought the sheriff out instead." Lord Saxton's voice had grown no warmer. "But I thought you might be interested in learning that Erienne is safe."

"Ah... well, she always seems ter do all right for herself. I never worry much about her. She's strong ... and willful."

The glove hand tightened on the handle of the cane long betore Lord Saxton chose to reply. " 'Tis a rare father who shows such confidence in his daughter." He issued a brief, derisive laugh. "Why, one could easily mistake it for lack of concern."

"Huh?" Avery was momentarily perplexed.

"Never mind." Lord Saxton rose to his feet. "I shall be going now. I have business to attend to in York."

"Ah . . . gov'na," Avery began and cleared his throat sharply. "I was wonderin' if maybe, seein's as ye're me girl's husband and all, ye could spare a few quid for her poor family. We've been down on our luck, the boy and me, and we narrowly have a coin ter our name. We had ter sell ol' Socrates . . . and since ye said ye were willin' ter pay more..."

"I have set aside an allowance for your daughter." His lordship's tone was harsh. "If she chooses to help you, she may, but I will give nothing more to you without her approval."

"Ye let a woman run yer affairs?" Avery blurted in surprise.

"Her family is her affair," Lord Saxton answered brusquely.

"She's got a powerful mean heart toward me since I sold her."

"That, Mayor, is your problem, not mine."

Barely an hour after Lord Saxton's landau departed on the eastern road leading to York, the travel-worn Christopher Seton entered town on the south road from Wirkinton. He led his equally road-weary horse to the stable at the rear of the inn, where he bade the boy take extra care with the animal and for a reward tossed him a bright tuppence.

Christopher had no more than stepped out from the stable doorway when he felt fingers plucking at his sleeve. He glanced aside to find Ben scuttling along beside him, a wide and partly toothless grin on his ruddy face.

" 'Hain't seen ye in a week or so, gov'na," the old tar chortled. "Ol' Ben was afeared ye'd met wit' yer Maker. Ye been keepin' yerself busy?"

"I had to see to my ship in Wirkinton." Christopher did not halt or slow his pace but laughed as he pushed open the back door of the inn. "Only the good die young, Ben. You and I will be around after many suns have set."

They navigated the short hall that led into the common room and moved toward the table near the window. Molly's eyes lit up when she recognized the tall form. She shrugged her blouse off her shoulders, letting it sag low over her bosom, and gave Christopher a coy smile as he motioned for two mugs. In a moment she was there, sliding the brimming tankards onto the table.

"Thought ye might o' left ol' Mawbry for good, gov'na," she crooned as she braced her hands on the table and leaned forward, giving him a very personal review of her ripe bosom. "I'da been mighty sad if ye hadn't come back."

Christopher glanced up, briefly noting the immodest display that bared her large nipples. He leaned back in his chair and tossed down several coins. "Just the ale, Molly. Nothing else."

Miffed, she straightened and flounced away. She didn't know whose petticoats he was getting beneath, but whoever the woman was, she had to be sapping his strength with her demands. Why else would such a stalwart, virile-looking man deny a generous offer when it was placed before his naked eyes?

Ben licked his lips in eager anticipation as he took up his tankard. "Gov'na, ye're as good as me own muther, God rest her soul." He dispatched a goodly share of the brew before he lowered it again. With a deep sigh of appreciation, he wiped his sleeve across his mouth. "So! Ye've been away, ye 'ave, an' ye gone an' missed all the 'appenin's 'ereabouts."

"Happenings?" Christopher leisurely quaffed his ale as he regarded his companion with patient expectation.

"Aye, gov'na." Ben relished the opportunity to brief his benefactor. " 'At Lord Saxton, he's up and married the mayor's daughter, and just yesterday almost got hisself waylaid by a bunch o' bloody pirates, he did."

Christopher's brows came together in a worried frown. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Oh, his missus was with him, all right." Ben snickered knowingly and leaned closer. "But ye needn't concern yerselt 'bout her. It were only 'em thieves what got hurt. His lordship killed a couple an' set the rest ter their heels." Ben's voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. "I hears as how there ain't a one o' 'em ken walk without a hitch."

Christopher digested the information in silence until a drum of hoofbeats broke into his musings. Ben rose and peeked out the front window. Just as quickly he was back.

"I'll... uh... see ye later, gov'na."

Ben guzzled the contents of his mug before fading back into the shadows at the rear of the room. He propped a chair against the wall and seemed to doze almost as soon as he settled into it.

A moment later the door burst open, and Timmy Sears stomped into the inn. Treading on his heels, Haggard glanced happily about, then almost jumped out of his shoes when he saw Christopher at the table near the window. He caught Timmy's arm and frantically gestured, seeming to have difficulty finding the words to speak. His companion turned to see what was troubling him, and the red brows shot up as he found the reason for Haggard's dither.

"I'm wounded," Timmy declared, hastily sweeping his cloak aside to reveal an arm hanging in a sling.

"So I see," Christopher calmly replied while he further appraised the man's condition. Timmy's woolen coat was short in sleeves and length and was stretched taut across the broad shoulders. His clothes were wrinkled, as if he had put them on too soon after a washing, while his boots had a slightly dampish look and were turned up at the toes.

Molly was curious and beat a hasty path to his side. " 'Ere now, Timmy dear. Ye look like ye were trampled by a herd o' swine."

"Almost was, Molly." He slipped his good arm about her shoulders and mumbled beneath his breath. "Bunch o' witless fools." He cleared his throat and spoke so all could hear. "Nah! Me crazy ol' nag took a cropper on a patch o' ice and sent me sailin'."

Keeping a wary eye on the Yankee, Haggard sidled to the bar and chortled nervously. "Wish I'da seen ye."

Timmy glared at his companion, then dismissed him from mind as he lifted the bandaged wing. " 'Tain't broke, just a bit stiff. Hah, busted me mount, though. Had ter put another shot into him."

"Another shot?" Molly looked up at him innocently.

"I mean as how he busted his leg, and I had ter finish him off."

"How'd ye get here, then, if ye plinked him?"

"Got me another one." Timmy drew himself up. "A better one than that old nag."

"Hah, I'll bet!" Molly said, laughing. "An' who'd ye steal it from this time?"

Timmy's face took on a dark look, and he scowled at her. "If ye thinks I'd stoop ter thievery . . . Why, here . . ." He fished with two fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat. "Look what I brought ye."

He held a pair of gold earrings and dangled them in front of her eyes, which immediately grew large and soft. Molly forgot all about teasing him and even put Christopher Seton out of mind for the moment.

"Ohhh, Timmy, ye're too good ter me. Always bringin' me trinkets an' whatnots." She took one from him and held it to her ear. "Want ter come up," she indicated the stairs with a tilt of her head, "an'... uh... see how they look on me?"

"Don't know," Timmy replied casually. "Where'd ye have it in mind to wear 'em?"

"Why, in me room, o' course." Molly stared at him with a puzzled frown, then thumped his shoulder with a light blow, eliciting a wince of pain. "Awwwh, Timmy, yer allays funnin'. Come on."

Molly hitched up her skirt and took the stairs in a prim gallop. Timmy needed no further urging to lope at her heels.

The night was dark, and Timmy Sears was restless. His life had not been much fun lately. He had been well battered and bruised. He had been shamed in front of his friends. And if that was not enough, his wife had begun making demands on him. One of his companions, maybe that blundering lickspittle Haggard, had made a casual comment comparing his hundred quid to the five thousand laid out at the roup. His wife had quickly seized upon the fact that he had money. There followed a verbal listing of nigh unto a thousand things they needed. New tiles for the roof. New dishes for the table. Indeed, a new table and chairs to replace the good, sturdy bench they had shared these many years. A bolt of cloth, threads, needles. Some of this and a little of that. A new pot for the hearth, since the old one was perilously thin at the bottom. And on... and on... and on...

Timmy sat up in bed and ran his hands through his shaggy hair. What did the woman think he was made of, anyway, that he could support her in the lap of luxury like some . . . some . . .
Christopher Seton!
The name surged through his mind, and around it his woes seethed.

"Sneakin' around and disturbin' the peace o' Mawbry homes," he mumbled. "Woundin' young lads and accusin' the mayor hisself o' cheatin', then snatchin' the money for the girl right from under the old man's nose. Why, Avery didn't even have enough left for a good toot."

Sears chuckled to himself and sucked his teeth in sheer envy. "How'd the Yankee do it? The way he sports about, one might get the idea he has as much power as Lord Talbot, or that highfalutin Saxton..."

Timmy's chin jutted, and his brows beetled in ponderous thought. "Now, that's another one." He rubbed his arm as the memory of his plunge into the icy water was brought painfully to mind. He had been so close to dealing a blow to the rumors that the man was a ghost, but his plan had been rudely cheated. Now he felt a need for revenge. "One way or the other, he'll pay."

Timmy climbed from the bed carefully so as not to rouse his spouse. She had grown most amorous of late, and he was a bit weary of her unwarranted attention. Besides, she had lost another tooth just that morning, and he was not used to her lopsided smile yet.

His stomach rumbled as the greasy stew from supper changed its angle of attack and shifted across his belly. He eased open the back door and made his way toward the privy, being careful where he placed his bare feet. His hounds had a way of littering the countryside with all manner of debris, and he'd just as soon avoid getting his toes tangled in something.

The distance of the privy from the cottage compromised convenience with comfort in the form of the prevailing breezes. He made his way unhindered and swung open the creaky door. He settled himself inside, and a few moments later sank into a dreamy half-awake state. Something stirred outside, and he blinked himself to attention until he caught the sound again. It was like a horse stamping an impatient hoof. He stood up and leaned forward to push the door wide, then peered out.

The night's depth of darkness was impenetrable, then a breeze stirred, and the clouds allowed a shaft of moonlight to sweep across the yard. Sears' breath sucked in with a ragged, wheezing sound, but a shriek of pure terror caught in his throat. There, standing in the silvered light, was a huge black horse whose eyes seemed to blaze with white fire, and on his back was a shadowed being with great wings spread out from his shoulders, as if he were making ready to launch himself from the steed's back.

A hoarse, squawking scream tore itself from Timmy's throat, and he whirled, leaping. His foot struck upon the seat, and he hardly paused as with the strength of three men he burst through the thin boards that sheathed the rear of the privy. Before his feet touched earth, his legs were already driving in a fearsome pace. They carried him without hesitation toward a mass of thornbushes several rods away.