Page 49 of Lord of Fortune
Chapter 9
The journeythrough the Cotswolds was beautiful, and though Penn had made it dozens of times, he felt as though he were seeing it through new eyes with Amelia. When they’d stopped for a brief refreshment, he’d convinced her to join him in his coach. Since then, the day had passed quickly as their conversation had mostly focused on Penn’s travels and exploits.
Egg was serving as coachman for the trip, a job he sometimes undertook on the rare occasion they took a coach instead of just horses. Penn typically preferred to travel lightly and quickly. The former ensured the latter.
However, this journey was different. He was content not to be in a rush and to enjoy his companion’s company. What the hell was wrong with him?
He should be eager to talk to his father about the dagger and the White Book of Hergest—and he was. Yet, he was also eager to spend this time with Amelia.
And that was troubling.
Why, because he’d dreamed of her the night before? Yes. When he dreamed of women, they were faceless, nameless, completely without an anchor in reality. Amelia was quite real and sitting next to him as they pulled into the yard of The Falcon.
As the coach rumbled to a stop, Penn realized he hadn’t discussed the particulars of their stay with Amelia. He turned to her as she yawned and stretched.
She blushed faintly. “My apologies. I’ll be glad to be out of the coach.”
He yawned in response, quickly covering his mouth with his fingers. “I will be too.” He grinned. “I stay here quite often as I travel between Oxford and my parents’ home in Monmouth. Mr. Jessup runs an excellent facility. There are four rooms, and I’ll ask for two of them.” He watched for her reaction, but there was none.
What had he expected? Disappointment? Did he think she’d wanted to share a chamber with him? Hell,hewas the one dreaming ofher, not the other way around. At least as far as he knew. She’d seemed to enjoy kissing him. Perhaps it wasn’t too far-fetched to think she might dream of him too—
“Penn?”
He realized, belatedly and embarrassingly, that he’d gone completely lost for a moment. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I asked if it would be improper that we’re traveling together.”
“Not at all. You have your maid, and since you’re a widow, I daresay there will be few eyebrows raised.” Honestly, he paid a minimum amount of attention to societal guidelines. He had no need for them in the life he led.
“I suppose that will suffice.”
Penn stepped out of the coach into the early summer evening. The scent of roses and sweet pea clung to the air, as did the chirps of a family of birds and the gentle wings of some flying insect. He turned to help Amelia down, then escorted her into the inn.
Mr. Jessup came from the back, his face splitting into a wide grin. He was short of stature with a balding pate and a generous sense of humor. “Good evening, Penn. It’s good to see you.” His gaze darted to Amelia.
“Allow me to present Mrs. Amelia Forrest,” Penn said, reluctantly taking his arm from hers. “She is traveling to Monmouth with me on an errand of intellectual investigation.”
Jessup’s dark brows collected over his eyes. “I see.” He executed a quick, smart bow. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Forrest. Do you have a maid with you? If not, my daughter could provide any assistance you may need.”
Amelia gave him a warm smile. “My maid is just outside, but I do thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Jessup.”
The innkeeper’s gaze moved past them to the door. “Ah, this must be her now.” He looked back to Amelia. “I’ve just the room for you. Cozy and inviting with fresh flowers Henrietta just cut.” He called out for his daughter. “Etta, come show our guests to their rooms.
Etta came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She smiled at Penn. “Good to see you, Penn.”
“Good evening, Etta,” he said. “This is my associate, Mrs. Forrest.”
Etta dipped a brief curtsey. “Welcome to The Falcon.”
“Etta, please show Mrs. Forrest and her maid to the room overlooking the garden.”
“Of course. Right this way.” She turned and went to the stairs in the back right corner of the room.
“Come and have an ale with me in the kitchen,” Jessup offered. “I should keep an eye on things while Etta’s upstairs.” He turned without waiting for Penn’s reply. Likely because Penn never refused his invitations to join him for ale.
Penn trailed him through the doorway that led to the kitchen at the back of the inn. Jessup stirred something on the stove before fetching tankards of ale for the both of them. He handed Penn his cup and offered a toast. “To a blessed summer.”
Penn lifted his ale in acknowledgment before taking a long, deep draught. He closed his eyes briefly. “Still the best ale in England. And Wales.”
