Page 30 of The Duke of Ruin
“Tea, then. I’ll get some tea.” She got up and hurried to the bar, where she asked the innkeeper for a pot of tea. If he found the request odd, he didn’t say so, for which she was relieved. Simon’s drinking habits weren’t normal, but they were perfectly respectable.
She’d heard he didn’t drink spirits, and he’d confirmed that. What they hadn’t discussed was why. The rumor was that it was because of his wife’s death, that he’d been stinking drunk when she’d tumbled down the stairs. If that were true, she could well understand why he would abstain. Why then would he suggest he might want an ale now?
A high-pitched squeal drew her to turn to where Mrs. Taft sat with her daughter at the largest table in the room. The boys were there playing with their soldiers, and a gentleman, perhaps Mr. Taft, seemed to be the reason for the child’s excitement. He had a doll in his hand and was hiding it beneath his jacket only to pull it back out with a grand flourish. He did this three times before delivering her the toy. And each time, she squealed and laughed happily.
Diana made her way back toward the table. Simon had turned his head and was staring at the family again. She sat down and when he still didn’t avert his attention away from them, calmly asked.
“Is there something wrong?”
He looked at her, appearing startled. “No.”
She didn’t believe him. His color was off, and she could tell he was tense. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone who doesn’t know you. Something is definitely wrong. You seem upset.”
“You know me, then?”
“As well as you know me.” Her mind jolted back to Coventry and just how well he’d come to know her. Perhaps shedidn’tknow him as well as he knew her.
“It’s the child.” He turned his gaze away from her, staring out the window into the dark night. “She reminds me of… Never mind. Where’s the tea?”
“It’s coming.” Suddenly, she knew the reason for his distress. The child reminded him of the child he lost. Along with his wife. Though she couldn’t quite fathom the depth of his emotion, she felt a surge of empathy. “I’m so sorry. I think you must have loved your wife very much.” That detail was never part of the tales surrounding his past.
“I did.”
Without hesitation, she reached over and clasped his hand atop the table. His gaze snapped to hers. She said nothing, just gave his fingers a squeeze.
He arched a brow at her. “Careful. You’re behaving like a wife.”
“Or a friend.” She withdrew her hand as the innkeeper deposited a tray with the tea service on the table.
Mr. Woodlawn wiped his hands on his apron. “Dinner will be out in a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” Diana poured their tea.
“You’re managing me,” he said.
“I’m helping. You’re not going to be an arrogant toad, are you?”
He let out a laugh that warmed her. “God, I hope not. You’re welcome to cuff me if I behave in such a manner.”
“I’ll do that.” She wanted to ask about his wife, but, seeing that his mood was starting to pick up, abandoned the topic. Some day there would be an appropriate time for them to discuss what had happened and, more importantly, his feelings about that.
She hoped.
Perhaps they’d part ways before that happened. Wanting him to know she cared, she said, “I’m here should you ever wish to unburden yourself.”
He gave her a saucy look, and it seemed he was back to his regular self. “That could be taken any number of ways, Mrs. Byrd.”
She rolled her eyes as she lifted her teacup. “Here comes our dinner.”
They kept the conversation light as they ate their meal, but she noticed he avoided the children and seemed relieved when the Tafts went upstairs. Not long after, they said good night to the remaining patrons and made their way up to their small second-floor room.
Diana allowed him to help her disrobe, but they were quick about it. He presented his back while she finished dressing for bed, and didn’t turn around until she had the covers pulled up to her chin. The familiar rolled-up blanket was situated between them but she realized she was very near the edge of the narrow bed.
A few minutes later, he climbed in beside her and pulled the blankets up. “Ah, I’m afraid I don’t have much space,” he said gently. “Can you move over a bit?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t.” She winced, knowing what was coming next and frustrated with herself for not having the courage to suggest it first.
“We could remove the blanket. Honestly, it’s cold enough that I think I would appreciate the extra covering. What’s more, combining our body heat without the barrier is probably smart.”
