Page 148 of Oddity of the Ton
A plump, ruddy-faced man appeared at the doorway—the same man who’d ushered Monty inside last night when he climbed out of the mail coach.
“Oh, Your Grace!” he cried, “I didn’t expect you to be about at this hour after you arrived so late last night. I was going to send my Johnny to tend to you, seeing as you have no valet.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Ham, but I’ve become quite adept at dressing myself.”
“Very good, sir. Sit ye down and I’ll send Mrs. Ham over.”
The innkeeper ushered Monty to a table set for one in the corner, then exited the parlor.
“Mary—Mary! Thedukeis up!”
Monty sat and glanced around. The lone gentleman gave him a cursory glance. But the family eyed him with interest—the man with envy in his eyes, and his wife with curiosity. The young woman, most likely their daughter, and barely out of the schoolroom, blushed and lowered her gaze. Her mother took herhand and smiled. The man looked at his wife, and the envy in his eyes disappeared as the two of them exchanged a loving glance.
They might envy Monty his title and wealth. But, in truth, they were the ones to be envied—a husband and wife indulging in a simple seaside vacation with their daughter, experiencing the pleasure of being together as a family.
The door opened, and a woman even plumper than the innkeeper appeared, with graying hair peeking out from beneath her cap, rosy cheeks, and warm brown eyes. She approached Monty’s table and bobbed a curtsey.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, we didn’t expect you up so soon. Are you happy to take your breakfast in the parlor? Or I can make up a private dining room.”
“The parlor will do very well, Mrs. Ham,” Monty said.
“Very good, sir. We serve very fine bacon here, if you don’t mind my saying. It’s from Mr. Long’s farm. He has the finest herd of Curly Coats in the county.”
“Curly Coats?”
“The Lincolnshire Curly Coat, Your Grace. You’ll taste none finer—not even in London.”
“In which case, some bacon will do very well, thank you.”
She bobbed another curtsey and disappeared. Monty glanced about the parlor, noticing, for the first time, the paintings on the walls. Most were seascapes, but by the window was a painting of a church, framed by trees and shrubs, its tower reaching to the heavens, toward a clear blue sky.
When Mrs. Ham returned with a plate of bacon, Monty gestured to the paintings. “Are these images of Sandcombe?”
“That they are. They’re for sale, if you take a fancy to any of them—to remind you of your stay. Are you on vacation?”
“After a fashion.”
If a vacation were defined as spending time away from home being waited on by strangers and avoiding the dailyresponsibilities of life, then yes, Monty was on vacation. And he had been since the beginning of the year while he traveled up and down the country on his quest.
Yes—he wason vacation, and would remain so until he’d found her. The Lakes had proven fruitless—as had Brighton and Exeter. Wells yielded a glimmer of hope after the innkeeper confessed to having seen a woman fitting Eleanor’s description, but she turned out to be a happily married mother of four in her early forties, with a broad Scottish brogue.
He was now running out of places to search. If Sandcombe proved fruitless, there was only Arbroath left.
At least in Britain.
“The parlor doesn’t seem very full,” he said. “Do you have any other guests?”
“We expect to be full tomorrow. Several visitors arrive tonight, including a large party from Lincoln. I can make up the private parlor if you want to dine in peace—and I’ll set aside a portion of my fish pie for you.”
Monty took a bite of his breakfast. “If it’s as good as this bacon, you should set asidetwoportions. I suspect some of your guests have no wish to leave.”
“That’s much appreciated, sir,” she said. “We had a young man here last December—he stayed almost a month.”
“Why did he stay so long?”
Her smile disappeared. “My guests are free to come and go as they please without being gossiped about.”
“Of course,” Monty said. “Some of my acquaintances stayed here and spoke highly of your inn. A Miss Howard—perhaps you recall her?”
