Page 42 of Souvenir of Love

“A pitcher of ale would be grand.”

“We’ve freshly baked bread and a lovely bit of Stilton.”

“By all means, bring the bread and cheese, too.”

She took a step away from the table, then turned back, twisting chapped hands in her frayed gray apron. “Mr. David…I can’t thank you enough for them toys you designed for my son. He’s never had real toys before. And they’re so clever, all them little joints and working parts. I ain’t never seen anything like it. And you fixed the kitchen door, it closes so nice and smooth, not even a squeak…”

“It’s just something I do.” He shook his head as if her compliments embarrassed him. “Keeping my hands busy.”

“You’re a marvel, you are,” she insisted.

He looked at her and smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

Her eyes followed the fall of his hair, lingering on the broad spread of shoulders beneath his disheveled queue. She moistened her lips. “I’ll be getting that pitcher, then.”

As she hurried off, deftly swinging her hips around chairs full of customers and tables laden with pewter mugs and plates, Andre sighed. “I just hope she remembers the bread and cheese.” He glanced over at David. “Making toys for her children,” he said admiringly, “I never even noticed she had any.”

David chuckled. “Perhaps if you’d looked beyond her bosom…”

“It is a very fine bosom, you must admit.”

“David.” James cleared his throat, loud enough to attract all three men’s attention. “I’ve no doubt your intentions in creating diversions for the serving maid’s son spring from the purest and most altruistic of motivations. However, you may be certain I’ll be watching you all very closely to make certain that during our very brief stay here, no maids are seduced and no silver disappears from the kitchen of this establishment.”

David blinked as if bewildered, and James saw Andre stifle a grin. But it was Marcus who spoke. “Not to worry, Dinsmore. If either of them falls into trouble, I’ve some papers somewhereabout which ought to do the trick, orders from the local constable releasing a miscreant into our care.”

“Thank you, Marcus, but I’m certain we’ll have no need of your handiwork,” he replied warningly.

Marcus shrugged.

David pulled a watch from beneath his waistcoat. “Hadn’t you better start out, Dinsmore? You wouldn’t want to be late for your appointment with His Lordship.”

“Wouldn’t do to annoy the earl,” Andre added, with a knowing flash of teeth.

Annoyance.What the earl felt for him was so far beyond annoyance, James doubted there was a word in the English language to describe it. He wouldn’t be surprised if the earl began frothing at the mouth when he was ushered into the room. When he’d protested he wasn’t the man to meet with Moreham, Grenville argued he was precisely the right man; sending an enemy would convince the earl they were deadly serious about exposing his involvement in trade if he didn’t agree to let them use his networks in France. And Grenville appeared to have been right: for much to James’s surprise, the earl had agreed to see him.

If he’d only known about Moreham’s involvement in trade before! If only Anne had known. She would have been appalled. She never would have considered marriage with a man who had lowered himself in such a manner. The withdrawal of Moreham’s suit would have been a matter of relief, not of revenge. For his part, he felt a growing admiration for the man. He wished it were possible to get to know the earl better—and his sister, too,he admitted. To call him friend, or perhaps something closer. He traced the ridge of his scar. None of that was possible now. Moreham had called him a dishonorable cur for seducing his sister. After today’s meeting, he would add blackmailer and spy to his list of epithets.

“Do you wish us to follow after you?” Marcus asked.

James shook his head. He needed to convince the earl to cooperate, and he needed to do it swiftly. This was no longer about what had passed between the Dinsmores and the Harcrests. Every day in hiding brought the danger of discovery closer to their fugitive.

“In case you find yourself in need of some assistance?” David added.

“We’d be most discreet,” Andre said.

He had delayed this meeting long enough; surely it couldn’t be any more painful than their last encounter. “I need you to make certain that everything is ready for our departure immediately upon my return.”

“Already done,” Andre said.

“So you’d like us to come along, then…” Marcus began gathering up his papers as if the matter had been settled.

“Not if the earl sends out the entire staff of Moreham Hall to beat me to a bloody pulp,” James said firmly.

“That’s precisely why we were offering,” David said softly.

“James Dinsmore?Onhis wayhere? As sure as a skunk on a rubbish pile, the fellow’s up to no good. You want me to gather up some of the stable lads, lie in wait for him, and finish the job you started?” Jervis Jones leaned across the massive mahogany desk in the Earl of Moreham’s study and drew a finger dramatically across his throat.

Rafe noticed that his manservant’s stock was soiled. He shook his head. “As pleasing as the thought might be, you aren’t to lay a hand or a stick on him.”