Anne Barbour (12 page)

“Here!” he cried. “Here is where my shop is to be. It must be the place. Here is where I will set up as a worker in metal. Maia will help me, as will our children—perhaps my son. Maia would like to purchase a villa someday, but for a while we will live above the shop. She has been selecting furnishings. We live just outside the fort at Isca now, and she says all our old stuff is completely unsuitable.” He shook his head. “It seems all right to me. I don’t understand women.”

James grimaced. “Believe me, Rufus, things have not changed in seventeen hundred years. Nobody understands women.”

Hilary smiled faintly.

“At any rate,” continued Rufus, “the town seems to have shrunk considerably. Even in the time of the Dobunni, it was more populous than this.” He swept an arm about to encompass the market square, the church, and the buildings that lay beyond. “What is that?” He pointed to a high wall in the distance that spread for some distance along the perimeter of the shopping district.

“It is the estate of the Earl of Bathurst,” replied Hilary. She turned to James. “I suppose you have met him?”

“Yes. He is one of the few among the peerage to display an appreciation of the Roman remains that are still to be found about the country. He has been instrumental in the excavation of many remains here in Cirencester and the surrounding area.”

“So I understand. I am acquainted with him, as well. He has been kind enough to show me his collection of artifacts.”

James’s brows lifted in surprise. Bathurst was known to be exceedingly loath to share his finds with anyone except those he felt would truly appreciate them. Hilary must have impressed him greatly in order for him to invite her to his private museum.

“It seems—” he began, and then looked around quickly. “Where is Rufus?”

“Oh, dear. He was right here. How could—” She broke off as the sounds of loud disturbance reached their ears. James raced toward the noise, with Hilary and Jasper on his heels. As they rounded the corner into the Market Square, James halted abruptly, causing Hilary to bump into him from behind.

“What—?” she gasped. “Oh, my!”

Rufus stood in the center of an angry group of citizens, the most vociferous of whom appeared to be a pie seller, waving his hands in the air as he berated an equally irate Rufus. The others gathered around seemed to be interested onlookers, who apparently viewed the altercation as an entertainment carried on expressly for their amusement.

“Thief!” screamed the pie seller. “Pay me for my wares or I shall call the magistrate!”

“Bandit!” roared Rufus in his own tongue. He waved a portion of meat pie underneath the merchant’s nose. “I paid you good money for his inedible piece of dung. Unhand me or I’ll tear your fingers off.”

James surged forward and reached the small throng just as the pie seller, his hands thrown up in outraged fear, cried out for someone to fetch the magistrate. That personage appeared in a few moments from a nearby inn, wiping his fingers on a napkin tucked under his chin, a chicken wing still in his hand.

“Oh, dear,” said Hilary again.

James muttered a barely suppressed curse. “Now we’re in for it,” he growled.

Grasping Hilary’s hand, he thrust himself into the center of the melee.

Chapter Ten

“Here!” said James brusquely, reaching the crowd at the same time as the magistrate. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” he said to the pie man.

“Assistance be damned!” screeched this personage, red-faced and belligerent. “This oaf tried to chouse me out of my money.” He flung up his hands. “Ain’t I an honest merchant?” He asked the onlookers. “Don’t I make the best meat pies in the Cotswolds? And don’t I charge an honest price?”

Not receiving the wholehearted support on these points that he had anticipated, the pie seller continued hastily. “But when I asked for my sixpence, this lout starts babbling in some heathen tongue and tries to palm off a false coin. And now—” Here, feeling himself on stronger ground, the pie man again addressed the crowd. “And now, the cutthroat is threatening me very life!”

To this, Rufus bellowed a response in Latin that Hilary could not even begin to comprehend.

“Is the
juris
saying I did not pay him?” he asked James indignantly. “I asked him how much he wanted for one of his pies, but of course, I couldn’t understand his gibberish. So, I gave him an
as.
That should have been plenty to cover this pitiful excrescence.” Again, he waved the half-eaten pie in the face of the pie man, splattering gravy over those close to him.

The pie man thrust the coin in the face of the magistrate, a portly gentleman, and obviously irate at having his luncheon interrupted.

With a sigh of resignation, James withdrew a purse from his waistcoat and counted out a few coins. This action obtained the pie man’s immediate attention, and when James selected a guinea from the little hoard, his eyes brightened. The next moment, he clutched his chest and gasped weakly.

“It’s me old ticker,” he explained in a pitiful voice. “The thought of an honest gent like me being cheated by his fellow man ...” He trailed off, his gaze never leaving the golden coin.

“Yes, yes,” said James soothingly, as the magistrate “What, what?”ed in bafflement.

“It was all a misunderstanding,” James remarked to this gentleman. “My friend here”—he indicated a still-simmering Rufus—”is a stranger to our country. He speaks no English and has no knowledge of our currency. He was merely offering one of his own coins—perfectly legal tender in, er, Southern Andalusia, but, of course, unacceptable here.” He proffered the guinea to the pie man. “I’m sure this will clear up the matter to your satisfaction?”

The pie man, his hand a blur of speed, twitched the guinea away from James.

“O’ course it is, yer worship. No offense intended, I’m sure, and none taken.”

To the magistrate, he remarked brusquely, “Here, now, what are you doin’ here? No cause for you t’be harassin’ honest folk.”

With that, he gathered up the remainder of his wares and hurried from the square, leaving the magistrate, his mouth still full of chicken wing, gabbling after him.

Clutching Rufus firmly by the arm, James strode to where Hilary awaited them. Clutching tightly to Jasper’s collar, she was convulsed with laughter.

“I am pleased to have afforded you a morning’s amusement,” he commented acidly.

To this, Hilary only laughed harder. “If you could have seen yourself,” she gasped at last. “Brangling in the most undignified manner with a pie seller. And—and Rufus looking as though he might explode. Oh, my.” She was again suffused in gales of merriment, and after a moment, a reluctant grin creased James’s features.

“I suppose it was a memorable scene. I should imagine our little contretemps will provide the town with conversation for several days.” He glanced about the square. “I suggest we take ourselves off.”

Rufus smiled sunnily and licked his fingers, having dispatched the last of the maligned pie.

“I suppose he isn’t hungry anymore,” continued James, “but I must confess, I am feeling a bit peckish. Where do you recommend we stop for lunch?”

Over a meal at the Pelican, Rufus gave the lie to James’s assessment of his appetite. While James and Hilary made a very good meal from a potato potage and some lamb cutlets with peas, the soldier consumed a steak and kidney pie, a sizable beefsteak, prawns in a basket, and an astonishing assortment of sweetmeats. When he at last declared himself replete, the little group, after one final circuit of Cirencester, made their way back to Goodhurst.

It must have been the Pelican’s excellent comestibles, thought James, as they traveled through meadows and leafy lanes. For, despite the earlier confrontation, he was in an expansive mood. Rufus had already contributed immeasurably to his fund of knowledge about Roman Britain, and the promise of what else the old warrior might tell him burned hopefully in his mind.

Not that Rufus had contributed anything to the conversation for some time. In fact, that gentleman was snoring gently against the carriage squabs.

No, it must be admitted that his satisfaction centered around his other companion. How pleasant it was to converse with someone who not only shared his interests but could discuss them with intelligence. He assured himself that her sprightly charm, filling his senses like a perfect spring day, had nothing to do with his enjoyment of her company. He was as appreciative of feminine beguilement as the next man, but it was Hilary’s mind, of course, that afforded him the greatest pleasure. He must admit he rather fancied himself as a mentor and looked forward to expanding the girl’s knowledge of the antiquarian world.

If this project loomed in his thoughts as a vision of days spent in close quarters with his pupil, examining pottery shards and coins, and evenings with their heads bent close over dusty tomes studying Latin Inscriptions in a pool of candlelight, he very properly banished this concept from his mind.

However, as he contemplated Lady Hilary Merton, he knew a moment of uneasiness. What in God’s name was he doing, becoming involved with a female who bore the aspect of a street urchin and the mind of a scholar? One who, in addition, seemed determined to interfere in his comfortable way of life. He felt, for a startled moment, that his destiny had been whisked out of his control. It was not a feeling with which he was familiar, and he did not like it above half.

In her corner of the carriage, Hilary reflected on the events of the morning and smiled. Really, James Wincanon had revealed an unexpectedly human side of his nature that morning. And in the end, he had laughed at himself—a little, at any rate. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

He was an unusual man, she thought, for though he was possessed of an astonishing intellect there was that about him that spoke of more physical pursuits. In addition, there was the air of authority she had noted before, that sat so oddly on the scholar’s countenance.

A man of many parts, forsooth. Which was why, she told herself, she found him so interesting. He was different from most of the men of her acquaintance and therefore to be studied with some curiosity. And his path made straight. She did not understand why he had never taken a wife, but this must surely be a lack in his life. Perhaps she could help him fill this gap. She would consider the list of eligible women in the neighborhood and help him make a selection.

In addition, she would continue her efforts to widen his social life. His decision to live as a virtual recluse while he remained at Goodhurst was nothing short of ludicrous. Such a course would be detrimental not only to James but to the neighborhood at large, for it was the duty of a landowner to mingle with his fellow estate holders and to engage in activities of benefit to the tenantry and the villagers.

As for young Evangeline…She considered for a moment. What in the world had caused him to get the dust up over Evangeline? She was a bit set up in her own estimation, and a bit too eager for a splendid parti. And, of course, she possessed the intelligence of a garden flower, but that was no reason to react as though she carried the plague. The same way, in fact, that he had reacted to herself on their first meeting.

Was the eminent James Wincanon afraid of women, then? She rather thought so, but she had detected something beyond fear. Contempt. That was it. She had been under the impression that James had taken a personal aversion to her own perfectly amiable self, but now .. . For heaven’s sake, the man simply disliked women.

She turned over this interesting bit of supposition in her mind. What was there in James’s past that had so turned him against the entire female sex? A disappointment in love, most likely. She nodded sagely to herself. Well, whatever the reason, he must not be allowed to hide himself away from the world, moldering in his own bitterness. Evangeline, it appeared, would not do as a mate for him, for she would bore him to tears inside a fortnight. But how about Amanda Ffrench? Mm, no. Amanda was reasonably learned, but she had that irritating habit of clicking her teeth. Well, there was Charlotte Ponsonby. No, all she ever thought about was clothes.

Now, that was odd, she concluded after running- down a fairly extensive list of local damsels. Not one of them was suitable. They were either too flighty or too serious, too worldly or too naive, too—Hmm. Well, she would keep thinking. James Win-canon must not be allowed to wallow in his self-imposed slough of inertia.

She started, aware that James was speaking.

“If we are to stop at the villa, it will be late when you return home. Perhaps you would join me for dinner. Your father is included in the invitation, of course,” he added hastily. “The thing is, I wish to interrogate Rufus again this evening, and he seems to be more amenable in your company. I know I shan’t be able to speak to him in Lord Clarendon’s presence, but”—his lips curved in his surprisingly engaging grin—”I thought you could perhaps turn him up sweet before you leave.”

Hilary knew she should be affronted at this clear expression of disinterest in her company except to further Mr. Wincanon’s ends. Unaccountably, however, a sudden warmth filled her spirit. She nodded in acquiescence, then drew a deep breath.

“You know,” she said confidingly, “you have arrived in Gloucestershire at a most opportune time.”

James merely raised his eyebrows.

“Our Halloween ball is approaching, but you still have time to contrive a costume.”

“Ball? Costume?” James did not actually curl his lip, but his expression was far from encouraging.

“Yes, it is one of the major events of the year hereabouts. It is held on the day itself, but the costumes do not have to be related to All Hallow’s Eve, of course. Last year Lady Buffington was quite a sensation in her harem outfit. Lord B. came as a Red Indian.”

“Very amusing, I’m sure, but as I believe I told you, I do not wish to participate in local festivities, giddy and brilliant as they sound.”

Hilary pursed her mouth. “Really, James, this air of condescension is not at all becoming. Just because we are removed from London does not mean that we— Oh, who is that?”