Page 13 of The Duke of Ruin
Mrs. Watt’s face fell. “I’m afraid not. It’s beef.”
“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Simon rushed to say, not wishing her to feel bad.
She brightened. “There are turnips and fresh-baked bread, as well as some greens. Oh, and the sauce. Mr. Watt makes an excellent mushroom sauce.”
He arrived again then, bearing another tray with Alby’s ale and other dishes for the table, as well as a bottle of wine and two empty glasses, likely for them. Mr. and Mrs. Watt set to serving everyone from the dishes they’d brought to the table.
Miss Kingman looked at him, her gaze reflecting surprise and uncertainty. Yes, he should have prepared her for this type of meal as well. She likely hadn’t ever dined in this fashion. So far, he wasn’t much of a husband.
“Do tell us how you came to be wed,” Mrs. Watt said as she went around the table pouring sauce on everyone’s beef. She looked at Miss Kingman. “You made an excellent catch. I’m sure there were several broken hearts in your wake, Mr. Byrd.”
“Not very many,” he said. “Or perhaps none at all. I really can’t say. I paid no attention to anyone save my lovely wife. For years and years. Until she finally agreed to marry me.”
Mrs. Watt sat down at the end of the table, next to Miss Kingman, and blinked at the younger woman. “Whyever did you make him wait?” She looked utterly incredulous, and Simon might have found it amusing if he wasn’t tensely awaiting Miss Kingman’s response. He hoped she wasn’t put out by all this, but it was necessary to maintain their ruse.
Miss Kingman gave her a placid smile. “He’s a bit older than me, as you can tell. I simply wished to wait until I felt I was ready for the marital estate.” She turned her head to Simon and fluttered her lashes demurely. “Mr. Byrd was kind enough to be patient,” she said softly.
“I had no choice. There is simply no other woman in the world for me.”
Miss Kingman’s eyes widened briefly, and Simon suspected he’d gone a touch too far. Ah well, it would please Mrs. Watt.
“How romantic,” she said.
“Indeed it is,” Mr. Alby said quietly, surprising Simon, and apparently everyone else since they all directed their attention at him. “I recently lost my wife. We were married for forty-eight years. There was no other woman for me either.” He lifted his cup in a toast. “To our women.”
Simon and Mr. Watt joined him, raising their vessels. “To our women.”
Casting a look at Miss Kingman, Simon sipped his tea. She dropped her gaze to her plate and focused on her meal.
“When were you wed?” Mrs. Watt asked.
“Last week,” Simon said, scooping up some turnips. “This is our wedding trip.”
Mrs. Watt smiled at him and Miss Kingman. “Lovely. Where is your destination?”
“Wales.” Simon wondered how long the interrogation would continue. Perhaps he could divert the conversation. He smiled across the table at Alby. “Where are you going, Mr. Alby?”
“Hounslow, to live with my daughter. Her husband runs a school there. Now that I’m alone, she wants me to come.” He waved a hand. “I agreed since it will make her happy.”
Simon smiled before taking a bite of the delicious beef. Mrs. Watt was right—her husband made an excellent mushroom sauce.
“How nice for all of you to be together,” Miss Kingman said. “Do you have grandchildren?”
“I do.” His tone carried a note of pride. “Two beautiful girls and a strapping lad.”
Miss Kingman smiled, and it was as if the room was granted additional illumination. “They will love having you with them, no doubt.”
Mr. Alby’s eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. “Truth be told, my daughter didn’t have to ask me twice.”
Simon’s heart tugged. To have a family that loved you, hell, that wanted you, was a wonderful thing. He thought of his mother and two older sisters, all of whom had turned their backs on him when Miriam had died. Before that, really, if he’d cared to pay attention. Which he hadn’t. Prior to wedding Miriam, he’d only been concerned with having a grand time, particularly after his father had died.
And just like that, his stomach churned and he lost all interest in his meal. He sipped his tea and cast a longing glance toward the bottle of wine. He didn’t really have an urge to drink it. Just to forget.
Miss Kingman looked to Mrs. Watt. “Do you have children?”
The innkeeper’s wife dabbed at her mouth with her napkin as she nodded. “We do. Our son works as a secretary in London,” she said proudly. “And we’ve a daughter who’s married to a miller in Dunstable.” Mrs. Watt gave Simon a pointed stare. “I hope you’re paying attention to your wife’s interest in children, Mr. Byrd.” Her eyes sparked with merriment, and she exchanged a gleeful glance with her husband at the other end of the table.
Simon peered askance at Miss Kingman. A faint blush stained her neck, but she kept her face carefully averted as she reached for her wineglass. Was she praying for this meal to end?
