Page 13 of Black and Silver

“Whyever not?” Lawrence asked, confused. “It looks to be a right cheery place.”

Lady Minerva shook her head, then stared at him in thought for a few seconds. Then she said, “No, we cannot stay there. See the sign?”

Lawrence swallowed awkwardly, then turned back to the inn. There was a sign on the door, but he’d assumed it was something having to do with the name of the inn, or perhaps a menu, or a schedule of coaches that traveled through the town. He could see it wasn’t a timetable of any sort, but the more he squinted at it, the more jumbled the letters became for him.

“It says that the inn is under quarantine because of a fever,” Lady Minerva whispered to him. “It urges us to seek out rooms in the inn across the way.”

Embarrassment that skated closer to alarm shot through Lawrence. What might have happened if he’d ignored the sign and gone into the inn hosting a fever? He shuddered to think about the perils of putting Lady Minerva in danger like that.

“We’ll check the other inn, then,” he said with a smile that hid his shame over his shortcomings. “I only hope everyone else traveling this way hasn’t had the same thought.”

“It looks as though public coaches might be passing this town by entirely,” Lady Minerva said as they crossed the street to the other inn after waiting for a speeding coach to rush past them.

“Do not be distressed, Lord Lawrence,” Lady Minerva went on as they approached the inn’s door. “If this inn has a fever raging within it as well, then I’m certain we will both catch it and die magnificently romantic deaths. Particularly if we are cast out to die in the stable or along the side of the road.”

Lawrence laughed, and patted Lady Minerva’s hand, then stepped ahead of her to open the other inn’s door.

Inwardly, he worried. He was all but certain Lady Minerva was suspicious of his abilities, or his lack thereof. He just prayed that if she found out, she would not despise him. Not when he was coming to like her as much as he did.

Chapter Five

Something was amiss with Lord Lawrence Godwin. Minerva was certain of it as she pulled back the bedclothes on the small bed in her room at the inn that night to make certain they had actually been cleaned for her use. She was reasonably satisfied with the room and the bed, though not quite as amused with the crack at the bottom of the wall that enabled her not only to hear Lord Lawrence shuffling about in the room adjacent to hers, but allowed her to see a sliver of light from his lamp once she snuggled into bed and blew out her own. The rooms had obviously been one at some point, but had since been divided by a hastily constructed wall to make more rooms and therefore more profit.

Minnie did not mind that so much. It was clever and enterprising, and as long as the room she’d been given was kept clean, its size was inconsequential. What bothered her more was the mystery of what could be wrong with Lord Lawrence.

Her first thought was that he was blind or partially blind, but had not told anyone. A sculptor did not need the use of his eyes if he was to practice his art.

Then again, Lord Lawrence worked in marble, which required the use of tools, unlike clay, and he mentioned that he sketched his subjects before committing them to stone. Additionally, his eyes were quite intent in their focus, both as he observed the countryside they passed through on their journey, and when he gazed at her.

Lord Lawrence had beautiful eyes. They were dark and mischievous, with crow’s feet at the edges to show he’d spent most of his life so far smiling. They were inviting and had a sparkle to them that made him seem years younger, canceling out the occasional wrinkle that dared mar his handsome face. In fact, when he glanced across the carriage to Minnie, grinning at something she’d said or plotting some silliness that he was about to say, he veritably shone with—

Minnie let out a breath and brought her fist down on the bedcovers beside her. What was she doing, extoling Lord Lawrence’s virtues when she should have been attempting to discern his faults? There was no point at all in her taking any sort of a fancy to the man. He was a means to an end, and though she would not treat him cruelly because of it, she had no interest in befriending him.

Except, she was certain Lord Lawrence would be a wonderful friend to have. Perhaps even more than a friend. It had been ages since she’d had a lover, and she quite missed some of the benefits of keeping a man in that way.

But no, she needed to puzzle out whatever was the matter with the man.

Her second thought was that he could not read. More than a few noblemen of her acquaintance had been lazy students, neverbothering to learn what they felt they did not really need to know.

But then, she’d handed Lord Lawrence the book of poetry earlier, and he’d spent the better part of the afternoon’s journey reading it. He’d even recited some of it to her, though he’d been silly and changed the words for comedic effect.

Then again, he’d misread Constance and Harland’s gravestone a few days before, mistaking one name for another.

By the time Minnie fell asleep, she’d decided that either Lord Lawrence’s eyesight was beginning to fail, but no so much that he could not function, or he somehow could not read particularly well.

In the morning, she was handed an ideal opportunity to test her theory about Lord Lawrence’s reading comprehension.

“Here’s the bill,” the innkeeper said, sliding a list of items across the table where Minnie and Lord Lawrence sat breaking their fast as Silas prepared the carriage for departure. “I’ll ask that you settle up now so you can be on your way without encumbrance.”

“Very well,” Lord Lawrence said, staring briefly at the bill before reaching into his pocket.

Minnie was alarmed by the total they were being charged, but it all made sense once she spotted several ridiculous items that were clearly added to the ones they’d legitimately incurred. She cleared her throat, staring hard at Lord Lawrence until he met her eyes.

Lord Lawrence looked back at her, puzzled. “Is something amiss?”

Minne rested a hand on the bill and tapped her finger on the paper.

Beside the table, the innkeeper shuffled, looking nervous.

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