Chapter 8 #2
“See here, madam. We noticed that the lad was unattended and offered to help him find his way back home.”
Sunny let out a low whistle.
Mantheria raised her eyebrows. “Did you also offer to hold his purse for safekeeping?”
Mrs. Norton’s mouth fell agape. “How did she—?”
“Quiet, woman!” Mr. Norton yelled, and his much younger wife flinched. It appeared that the man had a temper.
Mantheria continued in a cold voice. “And did you also attempt to lock my son up for his safekeeping?”
Mrs. Norton squeaked, but another scowl from her husband kept her quiet.
It would seem that Andrew had foiled his would-be kidnappers.
Sunny did not think he would have been so clever at the age of eleven.
He would not say so to Mantheria at this sensitive time, but he was impressed by the boy, even proud of him.
Although he had no claim or right to be.
“Listen to me, and listen to me well,” Mantheria said, pointing at the kidnapping pair. “Tell me how long you have been locked in that room, and I may be persuaded not to take the pair of you to the nearest magistrate and have you charged for kidnapping a duke.”
“He’s a bloody duke? He’d be worth a fortune!” Mrs. Norton said, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Yes, my son is a duke and closely connected to the Prince Regent, who attended his christening. So, if you value your lives, I would open your mouths and be careful what you say. My son is no thief. If he took your purse, it was because it contained his money.”
Mr. Norton shook his head slightly, and Mrs. Norton pinched her pale lips even tighter together. They were at an impasse. Sunny needed to do something.
“Mr. Lynch,” Sunny said to the proprietor, who had been watching the scene like he was at the theater, “please call the local constable and book these two in the roundhouse for the night. I doubt that, without Andrew’s money, they’ll be able to pay for their accommodations.”
Mrs. Norton let out a little moan and then darted away from her husband and closer to Mantheria. Mr. Norton attempted to grab his wife, but Sunny stepped in and restrained the man.
“I was just bringing the lad a bit of bread for supper, probably not more than an hour ago, and he complained of a rat in his room—”
“There are no rodents in my establishment,” Mr. Lynch said, interrupting her.
Both Sunny and Mantheria turned to the man at the same time and said, “Quiet!”
Mrs. Norton rubbed her arms with her hands.
“He screamed and was making a lot of noise. Fearing that the lad would alarm the other guests, I went into the room to look for it, and I saw the little beast—the rat. Its tail was at least four inches long. I yelled for my husband to come and help, and whilst we were trying to kill the vermin, the lad locked the door from the outside of the room, and we couldn’t get out. ”
“Where’s the rat?”
Sunny had not expected Mantheria to ask that, but her younger sisters, yes. He released the struggling man, and Mr. Norton sidled by the wall toward the hall, which was blocked by Mr. Lynch.
Mrs. Norton led Mantheria into the stuffy room, and from Sunny’s vantage point from the door, he could see the small rodent’s body with a tail cowering out of reach.
“It’s not a rat, but a mouse,” Mantheria said, sounding alarmingly like Becca. “And no doubt, Mr. Lynch, Andy brought it in his own pocket and used the poor beast to plan his escape. I should like to speak to your employees and guests to see if anyone saw Andrew leave.”
Reaching his hand into his pocket, Sunny took out a guinea and gave it to Mr. Lynch.
“This should more than cover Mr. and Mrs. Norton’s night at your inn and for the removal of the mouse.
” Then he turned to the guilty couple. “If I have the misfortune of seeing either of you again, you will regret it. I recommend you stay in your rooms until we leave the inn.”
He offered his arm to Mantheria, who took it, and Mr. Lynch closed the door behind them, following the pair down the two flights of stairs. Mr. Lynch, still holding the guinea tightly in one hand, hailed the closest barmaid.
“Oy! Bridget. Did you or any of the other lasses see a little boy wearing black mourning clothes leave our fine establishment?”
She was a buxom woman who was not in her first blush of youth.
She smiled widely at Sunny, and a shiver of discomfort ran down his spine.
Mantheria removed her hand from his arm and stepped back.
He wished to think it was jealousy, but he was afraid that it was only disgust. He felt a pain in the back of his throat.
He’d kissed plenty of willing barmaids, but nothing more.
What a fool he’d been! Like his father before him, he’d been content with small pleasures rather than the ultimate prize.
“Happen I did,” she said with another wink directed at him.
“The little lad paid for his dinner and asked for directions to the temple of Sulis Minerva. I didn’t know what he meant, so then he said he were looking for the ancient Roman baths.
Now, I’m not exactly the clientele for the Pump Room, but I do knows my way around town.
I told him to go over Pultney Bridge and down Cheap Street until he reached Stall Street.
I did warn him that the Pump Room was closed at night, and that there was nothing of interest for a boy like himself.
The lad merely handed me a shilling like I was a lady and thanked me kindly for my assistance. ”
Mantheria grasped her face with both hands. “Of course! He’s been studying the Roman occupation of Britain with his governess.”
Sunny wanted nothing more than to take her hand again, but instinctively, he knew that Mantheria did not wish to be touched right now—and certainly not by him. “Let us go to the Pump Room at once. Thank you for your help, Miss Bridget and Mr. Lynch.”
They returned to the carriage, and Mantheria would not even accept his hand to help step inside it. She clamored in on her own and sat with her back to the driver, signifying to him that she wished to sit on her own seat.
Sunny sat down across from her, realizing that the distance between them was now wider than ever. And he only had himself to blame.