Page 71 of The Notorious Lady

Ford was also certain that guards were placed along the major routes on the way into London. They would stop any conveyance entering the city and ask for information regarding a man and a woman fleeing on horseback.

He was a fugitive now.

He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d gone from an upholder of the law to a criminal in less than a day. He shuddered as the cold wind whipped him in his face, chasing gooseflesh down his neck and soaking his arms.

His hands were as cold as ice blocks beneath his gloves, shaking and barely holding on to the reins. The horse was tired and in need of warm shelter as well.

Just when he started to despair, thinking they would have to spend the night out in the elements, a small village came into view with an inn situated right on the edge.

Crowded or not crowded, they were going to stay there. He would cover Grace’s face with a cloak. Perhaps, people will not pay attention to them at all in such miserable weather.

He stopped right at the front door of the inn, tying the horse to a nearby post.

Ford helped Grace dismount, praying silently that there would be a bed and a bath available for them and an empty slot in the stables for their mare.

They walked inside, Grace huddled under her cloak and his coat, Ford quivering from the cold, his hair plastered to his head and neck, looking pitiful. The door closed with a loud bang behind them, but it didn’t draw any attention from the occupants in the room because there were none.

Ford paused by the entrance of the empty establishment. There was a counter for visitors to have a drink right at the entrance, but it was empty. Not a single other soul in sight.

A heavy-set gentleman finally made his way from the side door, and his face split into a grin.

“Good evening, good sir,” Ford called. “I hope you have a spare bed or two.”

“Welcome, welcome,” the innkeeper said, breathing heavily from the short walk toward the counter. Ford moved closer, Grace walking behind him, her head covered with the hood of her cloak. It didn’t seem like she needed to obscure her identity, though. The innkeeper barely threw her a glance.

“You’re in luck,” he said, propping his elbows against the counter. “This is a slow day for travel, apparently. Even the heavy rains didn’t bring any customers. To be truthful, we do not get many visitors on any day, but today we are completely empty. You can choose any bed you like.”

Ford let out a sigh of relief. “Give us two of the best beds, please.”

“The best beds?” The innkeeper eyed them suspiciously. “No disrespect intended, but they are not cheap.”

Ford looked down at his soaked length. He couldn’t fault the man for thinking the worst of them. In his current state, Ford looked worse than a vagabond. His boots and breeches were dirty, his single shirt soaked with rain, his hair… He didn’t know what was going on with his hair but it felt as though it was plastered all over his face.

Grace attempted to step forward, but Ford extended his arm, shielding her. It would be better if she continued not being noticed. With his other hand, he reached into the pocket of his breeches, took out a small purse with coins, and shook them out on the counter. He always carried this purse with a few pennies on it. A pound was sewn into the lining of the waistband of his breeches as well.

He thanked the Lord for his habit. Otherwise, he shuddered to think where they would have been now. He’d been in too many unpredictable situations in his life not to know better.

He nudged the six-pence toward the innkeeper. “Is that enough?” He knew it wasn’t, but despite his display of his wealth, he didn’t want to overpay for a place to rest.

“For a single bed, perhaps,” the landlord said, greed shining in his eyes.

Ford pressed his finger against the shilling and nudged it toward the man. “We’d need fresh water, hay, corn tops, or oat straw and a stable for a horse as well.”

“That would be another shilling.”

Ford pushed another coin toward him. “We need supper as well.”

“And a hot bath,” Grace chimed in.

“We don’t have extra helping hands,” the owner said stiffly. “As you can see, it isn’t worth hiring when the patronage is so low. So, you’ll have to wait for about an hour for the bath. And perhaps another hour if you want the second bath. Are you willing to wait?”

Ford looked at his miserable companion, then glanced down at his dirty length. “A bath for the lady is a must. Is there another way for me to clean myself?”

The owner grimaced. “I can offer you a bucket of lukewarm water to clean yourself behind the inn.”

Ford shrugged. “That will do.”

“The steamy bath will warm up your extremities,” Grace tried to protest, but he waved her away. He wouldn’t be waiting for two hours for a bath. He’d rather clean up quickly and climb into a bed.