Page 3 of Miss Barton's Mysterious Husband
“So I see,” he responded, the line of his lips turning bitter. Bitterness had been alien to the man she thought she’d known. But then, she’d long ago understood that she hadn’t known Roland Destry at all.
Seeing him stirred a storm of emotions. Shock. Confusion. Anger. Regret, her constant companion since they’d parted.
Anger emerged paramount.
A hundred furious words rushed to her lips, so it was perhaps lucky that her aunt appeared on the landing above. “Charmian, weren’t you fetching hot water for the Whytes in room twelve?”
Charmian suddenly recollected that she was standing in the middle of a crowded inn during a natural disaster. She couldn’t indulge in the luxury of a tantrum, much as she might want to. “Milly, please look after the Whytes.”
Milly bobbed into a curtsy, although it was clear that she’d much rather stay and hear the gossip. “Aye, Miss.. Mrs…”
“Destry,” Roland said in a low voice, without sparing the girl a glance.
He hadn’t looked away from Charmian since he’d first seen her. She couldn’t help wondering what he saw. Since their last meeting, she’d endured three hard years. These days, she approached the world warily, and she knew that showed on her face.
It was unforgivably vain to want him to think that she was still beautiful. If only for her pride’s sake. She couldn’t bear the idea of him feeling sorry for her.
With an incoherent murmur, Milly left as Aunt Janet marched down the steps. “What is it, love?”
Janet mustn’t have heard Roland say Destry. With so many guests, the inn was in uproar.
Charmian gestured toward Roland. “Aunt, this is Sir Roland Destry. Roland, this is Janet Barton, my father’s sister.”
Her aunt was capable and formidable, ready to withstand any challenge that life presented. A woman running a country inn needed to hold her own with patrons and staff. Charmian had seen her face down a pack of drunk bullyboys and triumph purely through force of personality.
Charmian also knew the kind heart beneath the forbidding exterior. That kind heart had provided unfailing support through the last years.
Now she expected to see dislike or disdain on her aunt’s face. How puzzling that Janet’s first reaction seemed to be fear. She wouldn’t have said that Aunt Janet was afraid of anyone.
“Sir Roland,” Aunt Janet bit out, although Charmian couldn’t help thinking that she was apprehensive under the frosty welcome.
Perhaps Roland’s exalted rank overawed her, although her aunt was used to dealing with the upper classes. The Spotted Fox was the only decent public house for miles, so it received patronage from the local gentry as well as travelers and farmers and agricultural workers.
Aunt Janet performed a curtsy so sketchy, it hardly justified the name. Roland’s bow was more elegant, but then, he’d always had perfect manners. No wonder Charmian felt like a complete bumpkin in his company. “Miss Barton. I’m hoping you can offer me a bed tonight.”
“I’m afraid we have no room. If you go back to Sorby, you may find a place.” This was the voice that Aunt Janet used when she threw drunken yokels out at closing time.
Under that tone, yokels turned as quiet as lambs. Roland was made of stouter stuff.
He’d been a charming young man with a sweet nature. Or at least so Charmian had thought until that last catastrophic quarrel. His reply now conveyed nothing sweet. “Sorby is five miles in the wrong direction. My horse is exhausted. It’s a deluge out there. And I’m frozen to the bone.”
Janet folded her arms over her substantial bosom. “Nonetheless, you must go.”
Charmian sent her aunt a questioning look. “I’m sure we could fit Roland in the taproom, even if on a chair.”
“Don’t forget I’m family.” His dry tone indicated that he didn’t feel like family at all.
Janet’s eyes narrowed. “The taproom’s full.”
The conversation paused while the barman passed them, balancing a tray piled with empty tankards. He threw them a curious glance, but didn’t stop. It was all hands on deck tonight. John should have finished at five and gone back to his family for Christmas Eve.
“I’ll take a blanket and sleep in the stables if I have to,” Roland said with a snap of his straight white teeth. “I’m not putting my horse out into that weather again.”
He’d always been kind to animals and children. He’d been kind to her – at least at first. It seemed that hadn’t changed. When it came to animals anyway.
“We can’t help you, Sir Roland.”
Janet’s uncompromising attitude confused Charmian. There were good reasons for her aunt to dislike Roland, but people died in storms like this. Sending Roland away endangered his life. Charmian might have a few bones to pick with her husband, but she certainly didn’t wish him dead.
