Page 1 of A Scandalous Proposition
Chapter One
Southern England, 1809
Major Lord Adam Fitzroy closed the door to the private parlour he’d taken at the Three Feathers, obliterating the curious glances directed his way by the occupants of the tap room. With a weary sigh, he unfastened the tattered green tunic that identified him as a serving officer with the 95th Rifles and sank into a chair next to the fire. He rested his dusty boots on the table in front of it, unsure whether he was annoyed or relieved at the disruption to his plans. Eyes closed, he pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to relieve the tension that had been steadily building as he got closer to home.
His first action upon opening them again was to take a long swallow from the tankard resting at his elbow. He felt the warm ale trickle slowly down his insides and waited for it to soothe away his recurring memories of Corunna and the privations suffered by his men in the ensuing retreat. It would require something a deal stronger than the local ale to achieve that ambition. But he took another draught anyway, forcing himself to relax.
He listened with a half an ear to the bustle outside as the stage prepared to leave. The coachman’s voice was discernible above the hubbub, exhorting his passengers to take their seats quickly because he had a schedule to keep. He displayed scant sympathy for the plight of an elderly lady who’d misplaced her reticule.
The door opened and the landlord appeared with a fresh jug of foaming ale.
‘Thought you might be in need of a refill, Major.’ Without waiting for a reply he topped up Adam’s tankard. ‘I dare say you saw action at Corunna.’ Adam inclined his head. ‘I knew it! I said to my wife, there’s a gent wot’s seen a thing or two in the services of his country. You’re a hero, that’s wot you are, sir.’
Adam’s lips twisted into a mirthless parody of a smile. The only heroes associated with the entire fiasco had been the ones who’d made the ultimate sacrifice. Before he could think of a suitable response, the door opened again and the landlord’s wife bustled in with a laden tray.
‘Here we are, Major.’ He helped his wife to unload copious amounts of food onto the table that had recently acted as Adam’s footrest. ‘My wife’s mutton stew, fresh bread and boiled potatoes. You won’t find an establishment wot keeps a better table hereabouts, even as I do say so myself.’ He beamed and refilled Adam’s tankard for a third time.
‘Thank you.’ Adam eyed the mountain of food with apprehension. There was enough there to feed four men and he had no appetite to speak of.
‘I dare say it’s been a while since you sampled honest English fare, but nothing’s too good for our heroes, that’s wot I say. And I won’t be taking a penny from you for all this, sir, so there’s no good your thinking as I will.’
‘No, really, I’m well able to pay for my supper.’ The landlord looked shocked, and rather affronted, to have his hospitality thrown back in his face. ‘But if you insist then I thank you.’ Feeling as though he were back in the schoolroom, Adam picked up his knife and fork and reluctantly took a bite of mutton. ‘Delicious!’
The landlord exchanged a satisfied smile with his wife. ‘Wot did I tell you?’ He threw another log on the fire, sending a shower of sparks flying up the chimney and smoke billowing into the room.
‘We’ll leave you to it then, sir, if there’s nothing else you’ll be wanting. You won’t be disturbed in here, so you don’t need to be worrying about that. I can tell you need some privacy and no one’ll bother you or they’ll have me to answer to.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Will you be needing a room for the night, sir?’
Adam would welcome an excuse to delay his return to the Court, as the ducal seat of Southsea Court was universally known, but suspected that any more of the landlord’s hero worship would drive him demented.
What to do? Fortunately there was an establishment close to the Court where a bed and congenial company were always in plentiful supply.
‘I thank you, no. I shall be on my way as soon as my horse has been shod.’
The landlord looked disappointed. ‘Well, sir, the farrier’s here right now and he’ll have your horse sorted in no time flat. But that don’t mean you have to go charging off, not now that you’ve made yourself all comfortable like. So if you change your mind about staying, you just say the word.’
As soon as they left the room, Adam put down his knife and fork and returned his attention to the jug of ale. He’d not taken two swallows before he heard a commotion in the passageway immediately outside his room. Thinking the landlord must be returning, Adam guiltily picked up his cutlery. But when the door opened it wasn’t his host who confronted him but a woman, an overlarge cloak dwarfing her body, the hood covering her hair. She clearly thought the room was empty and started violently when her eyes fell upon Adam.
They regarded one another in silence for a protracted moment. As they did so, Adam felt something slowly unfurling inside him, a dormant feeling he’d never expected or wanted to experience ever again. He shook himself, wondering who the woman was and why she looked so terrified. Annoyingly, her appearance already inclined him towards chivalry and therefore involvement in her affairs when all he really wanted was to be left alone.
The shouting and heavy footsteps drew nearer and stopped outside his door. Adam could hear the landlord’s noisy protests.
‘Here, you can’t go in there, disturbing a returning hero when he’s having his supper.’ Adam couldn’t quite make out what the other man said but the landlord’s response reached him clearly enough. ‘It ain’t right. I won’t let you do it!’
The woman’s eyes darted to Adam’s face and he could see that she was terrified. Without quite knowing why he did it, he nodded towards the table upon which his uneaten supper lay and lifted the floor-length cloth that covered it. The woman didn’t hesitate. In two bounds she was across the room and had crawled beneath the cloth just seconds before the door flew open. Adam, a forkful of mutton halfway to his mouth, kicked the trailing end of her cloak beneath the table and glanced at the intruders.
‘What’s the meaning of this, landlord? You assured me of privacy.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but this gent is looking for his sister and insisted upon checking the private rooms.’
‘Your sister, you say.’ Adam quirked a brow at the bull of a man who’d barrelled into the room behind the landlord. His fleshy, heavily whiskered face was scarlet but whether through anger or as a result of his exertions Adam was unable to decide. The veins in his bulbous nose were thick and prominent, and his chin jutted forward in a pugnacious manner. Adam took him in immediate dislike and was glad he’d impulsively hidden the woman. He didn’t believe for a moment she was unfortunate enough to be related to this brute. ‘And why should I be hiding your sister?’
Adam’s authoritative tone caused the man to hesitate. ‘Beg pardon, sir, but she was seen in this passageway and I thought perhaps she might have?’
‘Have you tried calling her name?’
