“Abe Turner, this is Lord Fitzalan’s betrothed, Miss Kilbrid.” He reached up to help me from the saddle.
The man’s eyes popped and he rushed another bow. “How do ye do, Miss Kilbrid? His lordship has always been a favorite of mine.” The initial expression faltered as deep creases appeared around his mouth. “No offense, miss, but last I heard he was engaged to marry one of King George’s daughters. Or so the country gossips tell it.”
The dog watched me with keen interest, its head cocked to one side.
“No offense taken, Mr. Turner. Lord Fitzalan and the princess have recently ended their betrothal.” An idea jumped into my head. “Have you seen him today, perchance? He would have passed through several hours ago.” The dog whined while I spoke and slowly started to inch its way to me.
Abe shook his head. “No, miss. I ain’t seen hide nor hair of his lordship for well over a year, since he last stopped to rest his legs on the way to Bath.”
I had guessed as much, that Henry would not waste a moment in his quest to stop the wretch. But neither Deri nor Nora had his strong constitution. “What about a dark-haired lady,” I asked, “and a pale blonde girl? They would have come through before the sunrise.”
“Ye’d have to ask my daughters about them as they tend to guests that time of morning.” He looked to James. “I’ve two comfortable rooms if ye’d like, though I assume with his lordship’s betrothed, yer for the manor house to see yer brother and his lady wife.”
James ground his teeth at the suggestion. “Miss Kilbrid and I are expected to meet up with Lord Fitzalan and will only be here long enough to have a horse re-shod.” He glanced to the stable. “Is Sam around?”
The dog inched closer to me. Its tail had dropped lower, though it continued to wag ever so slightly. Without thinking, I reached down to pat its head. Coarse hair bristled beneath my touch, and lips pulled back to a growl. Startled, I yanked my hand back just as the dog snapped.
It made to leap when the man grabbed it by the scruff at the last second. “Watch yer manners, ye cur!” He turned apologetic eyes to me. “Fin don’t mean no harm, Miss Kilbrid. He’s usually gentle as a lamb. I’ve never seen him go after anyone afore, ‘specially no ladies. Soon as lick a thief as to catch one, I always say.”
James looked at me, his brows bent together in disapproval. I jutted my chin forward, perturbed by his reaction and unspoken insinuation.
Good gracious. Just because the dog was in a foul mood did not make me a bad person.
He shifted his attention to Abe. “About Sam, is he in the stables?”
A low growl persisted from the dog, and the innkeeper remained stooped over to keep him in place. “He went to town to fetch another barrel of cider. The coach is due soon from London, and the folks are always plenty thirsty when they arrive.” He scratched the dog’s head with his other hand. “Reckon he’ll be back in half an hour. Come in by the fire, sir, and warm yerself. The cider’s near gone, but I’ve beer or spiced wine if ye like.”
“Wine would be nice, Abe. Thank you.”
“More’s a pleasure, Mr. Roth. Just talk to one of my daughters and I’ll see yer horses to the stable myself.” He stepped aside, dragging the dog with him. Even so, the beast nipped at my gown when we passed by to the inn.
Abe tightened his grip on the mutt’s muzzle. “Damnable cur! Ye’ve worse manners than a sea monkey. Keep it up, and I’ve a mind—”
The door shut behind us. Pushing the dog from my thoughts, I peered through the gloom at the handful of men hunched over trenchers and wooden tankards. They watched as we crossed the room to the table nearest the fire. Heat from the flames brushed my cheeks, and I removed my cape to drape it over an empty chair to dry. An orange tabby cat lounged on the flagstones in front of the hearth. I leaned over to stroke the long sleek back.
The cat stiffened and hissed at me. “Don’t be afraid,” I said.
The hiss turned to a deep-throated growl. The cat rose onto its paws, arched aggressively, and raked a claw over the back of my hand.
“Hell’s bells!” I cursed. Four long scratches marred my glove. “What’s wrong with the animals around here?”
The cat slinked toward me, still growling and looking ready to pounce. I stepped back against the table, knocking against one of the chairs.
A young maid rushed over to us. “Stop that, Hepsy! Leave the poor lady alone!” She scooped the cat into a bear hug. “Beg yer pardon, miss, but she ain’t normally so mean. My father keeps her indoors for the mice. Don’t know what’s got into her today.”
The cat peeked an orange head between the girl’s arms and hissed.
James nudged my elbow. “Come, Miss Kilbrid. Have a seat before the animal goes into hysterics.”
“Animals tend to like me,” I said defensively, which was the absolute truth. Except for evil hounds, and apparently a foul-tempered dog and cat.