The Bellerose Bargain (5 page)

"If we’re found out in this, could we be imprisoned?" she asked.

"At the very least," Rodney answered with a smile. He guessed that he might succeed in appealing directly to her adventurous heart. The predictability of life here in the country, marriage to a poor farmer or life as a scullery, held nothing for Alicia’s spirit. And London as a place to be abandoned or discarded did not appeal to her, but London with a hundred pounds, a title, and a rich man to look after her for a time was not a bad bargain for a tavern wench.

She calculated quickly in her mind: if she was careful with her spending, the money would last a considerable length of time; time enough at least, if she was clever, to eventually marry a man of means and secure a decent life for herself. A life that promised more than endless hardship and struggle.

She smiled wryly. "And what do I say to Armand?"

"Tell him you’re going to London to dance with the king."

"And if he is angry?"

"Shake your gold in his face and laugh. You have the power now, lass. Not he."

The trust she was tempted to feel for him was now complete. When she was prepared to run away with Culver Perry he had cautioned her to silence. It was later that she realized it was not Armand’s anger he worried over, but the fact that he intended to sneak away from his boarding debt and could not do so in the light of day. If he was truly going to take her away, what difference if Armand was angry? Who would follow Lord Perry to claim her back? She belonged to no one but herself and had, for so many years, been unwanted baggage everywhere she went.

"When do you choose to leave?" she asked.

"Two horses stand ready now. We won’t ride through the night, but I reason we should choose another inn." He coughed and cleared his throat, trying to keep the corners of his mouth straight. "We may not be welcomed here."

Alicia’s smile was bright and the excitement glittered in her eyes. She held up the bag again. "Mine to keep, no matter what? You swear?"

"On my word. Gather your things quickly. Lord Seavers will be more than a little anxious."

Alicia retrieved her shoes from the stable and then dashed toward the inn, her bare feet padding quickly and her bag of coin clutched tightly in her fist. She disappeared into the inn and Rodney walked leisurely to where the horses waited. He was standing there when the door to the inn opened and Alicia reappeared. Just behind her was the red-faced innkeeper, and behind him Rodney could partially make out the printed skirts and curls of the three maids with whom Alicia served. Rodney’s round belly shook lightly as he tried to control an outright laugh. Certainly they had run straightaway to Armand when they noticed Alicia making her bundle of belongings to cart away.

"Ungrateful wench," Armand blustered. "I told meself this haughty wench’d be the first t’run. Aye, ye’ll fly away on the high road wit’ the first willin’ man."

The corners of Alicia’s mouth were turned up slightly as she struggled to keep up a serene front. She met eyes with Rodney and found some of her gaiety reflected there, and that was her permission to smile. Her eyes danced in delight and her face virtually sparkled. She handed the small bundle to Rodney and he worked at fastening it on the back of the horse that would carry her.

"Did ye consider that ye’ll get nothin’ of what’s been promised, girl?" Armand questioned. "Here at least ye earn a civil wage and have a decent place t’lay yer head."

Alicia turned to him. Her eyes were cool and distant as she considered the squat, gluttonous man. "A pile of hay with the rats?" she asked him. "And wage? That sum you send to your brother, Osmond—I earn nothing here. That generous man doesn’t yield me enough from what I’ve earned to buy a bolt of cloth. If not for Mae and her old clothes, I’d be naked."

"It costs t’feed a houseful such as Osmond’s got hisself, but he at least cares fer what he’s got. Ye’ll find no strong arm on the road t’London, miss. Ye’ll be back and ye won’t find me a forgivin’ man."

At this, Rodney turned toward Armand and his eyes were angry. "I’ve seen the protection offered this lass under your care. You’d happily see her mauled and used to sell one more cup of ale. Aye, she’d fare better in the hands of thieves."

Armand’s face got redder and he was about to shout something more to Rodney, but the latter turned to help Alicia mount the horse. Behind Armand he could hear Gert’s shrill whine. "Cartin’ ‘er proper arse off t’court, says she." Her cackle was piercingly clear. "An’ goin’ ‘t snatch ‘erself a foin laird..."

Armand turned abruptly and slapped the wench, turning her cackle into a squeal, but shutting her mouth quickly thereafter.

"Ye’ve a debt t’me, Miss Queenie. I was t’have a wench to’serve through the harvest time. Don’t show yer face here fer honest work when he’s used ye and tossed ye aside fer the next. Aye, I knew ye’d run with the first more’n a year ago when that noble bastard played his way with ye and left without even payin’ his lodgin’."

Alicia had barely settled herself on the saddle when that statement came, and her eyes shot to Armand’s face. Her mouth formed a thin, furious line as she glared at him, and from behind him she could hear the smothered giggles of the other maids.

"Ye thought I didn’t see what ye were thinkin’?" He let go a loud and sarcastic laugh. "I saw the way ye flaunted yerself under his nose and reckon ye hoped he’d take ye out of the shire. Mark me, lass, nobles don’t give a tavern wench more time than it takes t’spoil ‘em and leave ‘em by the roadside."

Alicia’s eyes bore down on him and she instinctively refused to show how it hurt to have her foolishness thrown in her face. She had had years of practice in pretending not to feel the insensitive jeers thrown at her. The remark seemed not to penetrate Rodney’s tough hide, for he turned to Armand calmly but sternly.

"Aye, there’s a debt, man, and I trust it’s to this one who’s served so well through the summer. What do you owe her for her work?"

"Owe her?" he questioned.

"Aye. Her ‘honest wage.’ Your brother won’t need it for her keeping, now that she won’t be going back to him."

Alicia blinked her eyes closed, hard, fighting tears. Earlier, as she had bundled her few belongings together, she had felt such optimism and hope, but then Culver Perry had been a long way from her memory. It wasn’t until Armand taunted her with her folly that she felt fear and apprehension rise within her at the thought of leaving the village with Rodney. It was possible that this man was no more trustworthy than Perry. But it was too late to take the easy way. She would go. And if being left by the roadside was to be her lot, she’d drag herself up and manage from there.

Armand opened his mouth to protest Rodney’s request for payment and Alicia held up her hand to stop him. "No debt, Armand," she said. "Put what I’ve earned toward what you lost from the nobleman who didn’t pay you."

Rodney looked at her with a slight frown. He detected the sadness her features had taken on. He shrugged and climbed onto his horse. "Then let’s be away. Enough on the matter."

Rodney took the reins from Alicia’s mount in his free hand and, clicking his teeth and spurring his horse, they started away.

"Ye’ll not find the promises answered, miss," Armand shouted at her back.

Alicia blinked back tears. There had seldom been promises made to her. Only once, and Armand was right. She’d been a fool. She’d been used and cast away. The first illusion that this would be a dream come true was struck from her mind, and she willed herself to strength. She would take her chance in any case, and hope there was something more down the road for her than a straw-filled attic and regular beatings. Something more than being abused and unwanted.

"Ease your mind, maid Alicia," Rodney said. "You’re deserving of a great deal more than the innkeeper would have you believe."

She smiled her thanks for his soothing words, but inwardly she feared that this journey would be only the beginning of her challenges. With a sigh, she took her own reins from him and edged her mount along beside him.

Alicia stood by the window of the inn and looked down into the dark street. The only lights came from the windows of the tavern below her and what little brightness broke through from behind covered windows along the street.

A loud crash and subsequent shouting from below caused her to jump in surprise. She rubbed her upper arms with her hands and shivered, both cold and a little frightened.

The journey to London had been uneventful, Rodney carefully looking after her food and lodging along the way, and she traveling easily and silently beside him. They had rested the night before in a lodging house (it could not be called an inn by any measure, though rooms were rented to travelers) and left early in the morning before having anything to eat. They arrived in London early in the day. Rodney had explained that they were near enough to the city to have traveled the entire distance without stopping for the night, but he preferred to have her come into the city with him in the light of day.

She could plainly see his wisdom in this now. The inn near the wharf where he had placed her was grim enough in the morning. Had she been brought through the wild common room below her in the evening, she would have been too frightened to stay in this room alone. The Ivy Vine had its share of drinking and trouble, but from the sounds in the common room tonight, it was nothing compared to a London ordinary.

In this meager setting, there was the nearest thing to a raised bed, one leg missing and replaced with a rough chunk of wood. It wobbled piteously as she tested it, but it still outshone any sleeping arrangements she had ever had. There was one stool, and a table used for eating as well as holding a washbasin and pitcher and one stubby candle. A dirty and ragged towel had been tossed into the empty basin. Not even water and linens had been delivered to her since Rodney left her hours earlier.

Alicia moved to the table and plucked at the filthy rag that was meant to dry her whenever she was lucky enough to wash. "Your great wealth comforts me, milord," she whispered to the empty room.

A cracked mirror without a frame hung from a nail on the wall. She looked into it but found the image lacking. It was a poor reflection and she couldn’t plainly see the dirt on her face, the snarls in her hair, or the disappointment in her eyes. Squinting, she looked closer, touching the long and tangled hair that dropped around her shoulders. Combs, she thought despairingly. A brush and combs would greatly improve her looks, but in the inn, she had shared the one brush with three other maids, and, though she might have made away with it without being caught, it had not occurred to her to take it. She wished now that she possessed a more devious and self-serving mind.

"He won’t find much to delight himself in," she told the mirror quietly. "When he spies this wench he’ll likely keep running for days."

Anticipation had churned within Alicia’s stomach several hours earlier when Rodney delivered her to the inn. He had a meal served to her and explained that his young lord’s ship was nearby, and he would hasten to him with the news. "I expect to be bringing Lord Seavers here to meet you very soon." Anxiety drove hunger away and she was unable to eat her meal. Regret grated like rough wood inside her stomach now, for she was very hungry and dinner time was long past. Rodney had been gone for hours.

The crashing of glass below her caused her to start again, and this time she rushed to the bed to grab hold of the leather pouch that held her coins. There was no place within the practically naked room to hide her fortune, and she greatly feared being robbed and molested while alone in this place. She tucked the pouch into her modest bundle of clothing and gave it a pat, finding the hiding place unreasonably insecure.

"Fine bargain, this," she hissed. "A hundred pounds’ll fit me fine when I’m dead and thrown in the street."

The sound of a key in the lock seemed to show her fear was justified, and she turned toward that portal with immediate terror. The clicking, turning, picking, and grinding seemed to go on forever, while Alicia grabbed her small bundle and backed away from the door to the farthest corner of the room. When the door finally opened, she saw the reason for the lengthy fumbling. The man opening the door could barely stand and leaned against the frame for badly needed support. Her first thought flashed: If he can’t walk he can’t kill me.

"Aha," the man said when he saw her.

She retreated even more, her back flush with the wall.

"Ah, yes," he said, his voice slushy. "Aye, you’re the one. And you’ll make a mighty fine bedmate once we get you washed."

He entered and turned to the door to close it and began fumbling with the lock from the inside. Alicia’s heart was pounding mercilessly as she watched him attempt to lock them both into the room. The process of locking the door took nearly as long as unlocking it had, and when he turned to face her again he had a smile of victory on his face. He looked not vicious but boyish with his grin. She could not help noticing that he was dressed richly and was quite handsome. Mother of God, she silently prayed, do I give thanks that it is not a wretch who attacks and robs me?

He dropped the key into his jacket pocket and looked her up and down, his grin vanishing and a look of consternation replacing it. "God’s bones, where’re you from and who, heaven help me, is your seamstress?"

Alicia’s brows drew together in a frown. Then that vanished into a look of astonishment as she wondered how she could be insulted in all her terror.