Chapter 12 #2
“But we’re not staying there, mind you. After we eat, we’ll continue on. I’d like to be at Longmead well before eleven PM.”
“Yes, Heath,” Zack mumbled.
God, the lad had a way of making him feel like a monster.
To avoid thinking about that, he opened the panel and told his coachman about the change of plans, asking that he alert his other coachman about it, too.
Since his landau was in the lead and the coachmen had possibly already planned to change horses at the inn, Heathbrook doubted it would require much communication.
It turned out Evan hadn’t been wrong. They were close to Freeman’s Inn, indeed.
Twenty minutes later, they were pulling into the busy coaching inn’s courtyard.
As he and the lads climbed down, he found himself seeking out Giselle and her mother.
Odd how that had become his first impulse in recent days.
He spotted her standing beside her mother and gazing around at Freeman’s Inn. Though relatively large as coaching inns went, Freeman’s was a cut above the usual.
As he approached Giselle, she asked him, “How is it I have never been to this place in all my times traveling on the road to and from Bath?”
“It’s off the beaten path, purposely so. It caters to a wealthier clientele, who demand good fare and good horses. My family have been frequenting it since the place opened in 1769, long before I was born.”
“I see. So, it is very expensive, I suppose.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Heath—” she began in that tone she used to chide him.
“The boys wanted to stop here for a bite to eat,” he said in a low voice.
That brought a strained smile to her lips. “Ah. Of course. That explains it. In that case, you may ‘take care of it.’ ”
Zack dashed up to her. “I’m getting the apple cake. You should, too, Giselle. It’s wonderful!”
“You’ll be eating something other than just sweets, young man,” Heathbrook said sternly, then realized how he sounded when Giselle bit her lip in an obvious attempt to keep from laughing.
She ought to laugh. He was turning into his parents, for God’s sake.
When they went in, Mrs. Freeman hurried to them at once. “Lord Heathbrook, what a delight to see you! And with your brothers, too. Such a pleasant surprise.”
As she showed them to a large table in a more secluded part of the dining room, Zack beamed up at her. “We’re having apple cake!”
She glanced at Heathbrook, who sighed. “Yes, do bring us apple cake, but after the meal.”
As Evan held a chair out for Madame Bernard, Heathbrook held one out for Giselle, then took the chair next to hers. “Is the menu the same as it usually is for a Tuesday?” he asked Mrs. Freeman.
“Mr. Freeman wouldn’t have it any other way,” the innkeeper’s wife said as the boys quickly took seats.
“Then we’ll have an assortment of your best savory puffs, some cabbage pie, a dish of sliced ham and cheese with mustard, some roast potatoes, and—”
“Apple cake!” Zack put in.
“I was going to say, a dish of roast partridges, lad.” That last had been his favorite food as a boy. “But yes, do bring apple cake as well, Mrs. Freeman.” He turned to Giselle. “Will that suit you and your mother, or do I need to add some other items?”
“A salad of some sort would be nice,” Giselle said. “And some coffee, if there is any to be had.”
“Of course. Salad and coffee, Mrs. Freeman. Ale for me and tea for the boys, if you please.”
“I’m glad we’re having partridges,” Kit said as Mrs. Freeman hurried off to the kitchen. “Mother never let us get them because they were so dear.”
“Actually,” Evan said, “that wasn’t the real reason. She said they reminded her of you, Heath. She said it was too painful to know that you and Father were somewhere she could never see you, possibly for years.”
A lump settled in Heathbrook’s throat. “It was painful for us, too, lad, especially me. Why do you think I’ve fought so hard to gain you three? Yates wouldn’t let me see you.”
“That is very curious, too,” Giselle said, taking her time about placing a napkin in her lap. “Do any of you know why he was so determined to keep Heath away?”
“Not really,” Evan said. “He never talked about it. He just said we were in London to settle the matter of his guardianship.”
“Which made no sense,” Kit said, “since Cousin Yates was already obviously our guardian.”
“He didn’t mention me at all?” Heathbrook said. “He didn’t say I was going to court to try to gain you?”
All three shook their heads no.
“He didn’t talk about you ever,” Zack said. “And I asked. A lot.” When their gazes all went to him, he said, “What? I never knew my oldest brother. I was curious.”
“Well, you were asking the wrong person,” Heathbrook said. “I can count on one hand the number of times I saw Mother’s cousin.”
“What was he like, your Mr. Yates?” Giselle asked. “Was he kind? Patient? Affectionate?”
The three boys burst into laughter.
“Hardly any of that,” Kit said. “He wasn’t mean or anything. He was just stern.”
“Like a schoolmaster,” Evan said.
“He made sure we did our lessons every day,” Zack said, “and he insisted on having us bathe every night.”
“ ‘No stinky boys on my watch,’ he used to say.” Kit shook his head. “Mother never did that, to be sure.”
“Father did,” Heathbrook said. “Which is odd, since they weren’t related. But then, Father was concerned about discipline, cleanliness, and a rigid moral code.”
“That is Mr. Yates to a T,” Evan said. “We went to church every week, and even Father was a bit lax on that score.”
“True,” Heathbrook said. Perhaps Father had chosen Yates as guardian because the two men mostly had the same goals. “But Father was quite concerned about character-building. Everything I hated was ‘character-building.’ ”
“Like reading dry tomes about the history of the Romans,” Kit said.
“And brushing our teeth twice a day,” Zack said. “Cousin Yates had the nastiest tooth powder, too.”
“It had soap in it,” Kit said. “Ugh. Although the peppermint oil did help.”
Heathbrook shook his head. “Sounds unsavory.”
“He was caring for your daily needs at least,” Giselle said primly.
The food arrived then, and the boys dug in as if they hadn’t had a meal in weeks. Considering that Heathbrook’s cook had served them a very capacious dinner last night, he wasn’t sure how that could be. But he certainly enjoyed his own food.
Not to mention the ale. He took a long sip of it and let out a sound of pure pleasure. “I will never tire of having good English ale. The French don’t make ale, and every time I have it, I’m reminded of how much I prefer it to wine.”
“Then you are definitely English, my lord,” Giselle said. “I cannot imagine preferring ale to wine.”
“I will have to convert you,” he said. “I will make that my first act as a married man.” When she cast him a sharp glance, he winked at her.
With a sniff, she returned to eating her salad. After she had satisfied her appetite a little, however, she began questioning the boys again. “You said Mr. Yates didn’t have a good cook?”
“Not really,” Kit said between bites of partridge. “Our cousin liked tasteless joints of meat, brown bread, and boiled potatoes, mostly.”
“And pickles,” Evan said. “For some reason, Cousin Yates is very fond of pickles.”
“I like a good pickle myself,” Heathbrook said.
“With breakfast?” Kit said. “He liked them at every meal. Pickles and eggs do not go together.”
“I should say not,” Heathbrook remarked.
The apple cake came, and Zack’s eyes widened. “And he wouldn’t give us sweets. He said too much sugar was bad for you.”
“He is not entirely wrong,” Giselle said. “Or so I have heard.”
Heathbrook and all three boys looked at her in shock. She blinked. “Fruit is good for you but not cakes and such.”
“What about cake with fruit in it?” Zack asked. “Like apple cake?”
“I could be misinformed,” she said, as if realizing that her companions were decidedly not of her opinion.
“Misinformed or no,” Heathbrook said, “a man needs something sweet once in a while.” Like a taste of honey. Or honeyed lips. Like hers.
He groaned.
“Of course, an exception can be made for birthday cake,” Giselle said with a smile for him, thankfully unaware of the direction of his thoughts. “As for your cousin Yates, perhaps he did not provide sweets because sugar is so dear. Was he tightfisted like that?”
“Hardly.” Evan happily cut off a generous slice of apple cake. “He spent a good bit of money on our clothes. We went to an excellent tailor. I never dressed as well at Longmead, I can tell you that.”
“And he did buy tea of good quality,” Kit said.
“And fresh fruit,” Zack said. “There was always plenty of fruit. I like fruit.”
“Of course you do, Mr. Sweet Tooth,” Evan said, but mildly, like an amiable older brother should.
“Fresh fruit can be quite dear, especially in the winter,” Giselle said, casting Heathbrook a look. “That was very good of Mr. Yates.”
At first, Heathbrook couldn’t figure out what she was trying to tell him.
Then it dawned on him. She was questioning his brothers about Yates’s finances and whether he had skimped on things despite the boys having more than enough money in property to allow big expenditures.
She was doing it rather obliquely, but so unobtrusively that the boys couldn’t even tell.
Hell, he practically couldn’t tell, himself.
How clever of her. Was she doing it for him? To help him with his investigation? Because she hadn’t needed to do such a thing, although he was grateful for the help. It was clever and sweet and beyond the pale. And not at all what he’d expected of her.
He tried to convey with his expression that it was very much appreciated, but of course that was hard with three curious boys and a curious mother watching their every move. He would have to take her aside later and thank her.
Her mother whispered something in her ear, and she rose from her chair, then helped her mother to stand. Meanwhile, Heathbrook stood, too, as did all of the boys. At least Mother had raised them to be gentlemen.
“If you would excuse us,” Giselle said, “Maman needs the necessary.”
“I can show you where it is,” Zack piped up, hurrying around the table to Giselle and her mother.
“That would be very kind of you,” Giselle said. “Thank you, Zack.”
The three of them disappeared through a hall door, and the remaining lads dropped back into their chairs to keep eating.
Zack and the Bernard ladies were gone quite a while.
Heathbrook was well into his first piece of apple cake when Giselle rushed through the door and to his side, followed more slowly by her mother and Zack.
He rose, alarmed by the ashen cast to her skin. “What is it, sweeting?”
She came close to whisper, “I could swear I just saw Vaughan Jones outside in the innyard.”
Heathbrook’s stomach sank. Damn it all to hell.