Since our first acquaintance in the Colonies, James had considered me the lowest sort of person in his opinion—an Irish upstart who’d forgotten her place and had somehow ensnared the affections of his employer and closest friend, Lord Henry Fitzalan. To make matters worse, while attempting to end our betrothal, James had fallen madly in love with Nora, and it was only a matter of time before we were all one happy family. Until one of us killed the other.
“There’s an inn up ahead,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “The owner’s son is a decent farrier, and can see to it if he’s around today. I’ll switch the saddles so you can ride while I walk alongside.”
“Can’t you fix the shoe?”
James blew out an irritated breath. “No, Miss Kilbrid. I’ve neither the skills nor the tools for the task. We will have to walk the horses to the inn.”
My mouth pursed with disappointment. “How far is it?” I asked.
“Eight miles by my best estimation.”
I sagged beneath the small defeat. Already at the disadvantage, this misfortune guaranteed that we would not catch up to anyone before Bristol. To be sure, I shouldn’t have counted on doing so even under the best of conditions. But I couldn’t help it. Upon discovering Henry’s departure last night, this scrap of hope had soothed the pain in my chest to a dull ache as my emotions swung a pendulum between anger and angst.
The horse pawed at the ground, irritated by the loose metal. Lifting the hoof, James tugged at the offending shoe, while I clenched my teeth hard to keep from screaming a string of curses at the sky.
Hell and furies!
Why had Henry left without me? This question had echoed relentlessly through my head since leaving London. Didn’t he know that we were stronger together? Past incidents offered ample proof of that fact—proof that Henry willfully ignored in an attempt to keep me from harm’s way. But this was my fight as much as his, and he had no right to go it alone.
Rain rolled down my forehead to the tip of my nose. I brushed it away and shoved several windblown curls back into the hood. As the storm appeared to be blowing out of the southwest, I received some consolation from the notion that the others were in similar straits. Perhaps not a thrown shoe, but under the circumstances, no one would be moving too quickly.
James leaned into the horse to release the girth straps, and his next words came out somewhat muffled. “A couple of hours should see us there.”
I nearly suggested we ride together, but the idea of being so close to the man proved too much. “Sorry for the inconvenience,” I offered instead. “Fortunately you seem well familiar with the area.”
His mouth compressed to a hard line. “More familiar than I wish to be.” He handed the saddle to me to keep it from the mud. “I had hoped to pass through undetected, but it appears fate has another plan.”
I watched him work, expecting to hear more about fate’s fickle nature, only to be disappointed. “Here you go,” he said at last. With a small boost, I soon found myself reseated.
The hours passed in near silence. James sloshed through the mud without complaint, though his expression revealed the presence of dismal thoughts, which seemed to grow increasingly dismal the farther west we went. After a few miles, the rain tapered to a drizzle, and was no more than a sprinkle as we neared the inn. I tilted my head skyward and glimpsed the smallest gleam of sunshine breaking through the clouds.
A two-story stone-and-wood structure appeared on the far side of a gentle bend. The smell of damp earth was soon overtaken by wood smoke and roasting meat, and my mouth watered in anticipation. A dog’s eager bark near the gate offered a pleasant break to the hours of silence.
The front door swung open. “That’s enough from ye,” a man bellowed. He stepped onto the porch and wiped two large hands on a linen apron tied around his impressive girth. The dog ran to him, tail wagging at the sight of his master.
We guided the horses toward the innkeeper. Flour dusted his brown woolen breeches, and a baking cap topped tightly curled hair that appeared an equal mix of gold and silver. When we got within a half dozen paces, the dog ran to James and started licking his gloved hand.
“Sit, ye worthless mutt,” the man ordered. “This gentleman don’t need yer wet tongue all over his fine clothes.”
James patted the dog, then with a resigned sigh, looked up at the man. “Don’t worry yourself, Abe. It’s good to be remembered.”
The innkeeper started in surprise. “Beg yer pardon, Mr. Roth. I didn’t recognize ye at first.” He bowed awkwardly. “It’s been a long time since ye was last home, sir.”
My brows crept up at the revelation. Well, isn’t this interesting.
Abe darted a look at me. “Do ye need a bed for the night? I’ve a secluded room near the back if it please ye.”
Embarrassment burned in my cheeks. I waited for James to clear up the misunderstanding, hoping he would do it soon before steam started to rise from my damp clothing.