To keep her mind off her wet feet and the freezing temperatures, she ticked off all the possible reasons her father had picked now of all times to come back into her life.
One - he finally wanted to claim her as his own. She dismissed that idea out of hand. First of all she was a grown woman of eighteen, and, second, she was the legal daughter of Lord Rumsford. And third, who knew what her attics-to-let mother would do if she knew he’d even thought about such a thing?
Before her mind had a chance to wander down even wilder paths, the lights of the inn broke through the darkness ahead.
Just as her father shouted out to the inn’s grooms to bring help, Mina began to shake from the extreme cold.
* * *
Hugh Elliot,Earl of Westfalia, settled back onto a cushioned bench in the Cock and Magpie Inn’s private dining room. He’d secured the only one they had as soon as he and Julian had sought shelter there when the snowstorm had turned deadly.
He never thought he’d be grateful for the simple comforts of a common stagecoach inn north of London. Outside, the storm still raged, but a welcoming fire crackled in the grate and there was a steaming jug of hot mulled wine on the sturdy, but battered table. Julian slumped over the table at the end of the bench and wore the same mulish look he’d now probably take with him to the grave.
Hugh had paid extra for more candles for the darkened room, since the thrifty proprietor had provided only one for the large area. Once his toes and fingers had warmed in front of the fireplace and he’d given his and Julian’s soaked boots to their valets, he was feeling a little more human.
When the door to their private room cracked open with a bang, Hugh expected to see the servant girl bearing more jugs of hot, steaming wine. Instead, one of the tallest men he’d ever encountered stood there with murder in his eyes.
“His Grace, the Duke of Montfort, if you please. I’ve been told he’s here.”
* * *
Julian satup straight and eyed the newcomer. The height of the man, the familiar hue of the hair escaping from the sides of his coachman’s hat, and the intense, crazed blue stare focused on Julian could mean only one thing. Mina’s natural father.
He didn’t care what happened now. The man could beat him to a pulp. He deserved a pummeling for the way he’d treated his oldest, and truest, friend.
His jests about all of her suitors had left her single and her evil mother desperate after a Season Mina had endured for the sake of her family.
He was ready to die. However, he didn’t want John Taylor to be the one to kill him. They’d execute the poor man for murdering a peer.
A thought suddenly struck through all his mental meanderings. The man probably had seen the gossip sheet’s caricature depicting all of the people who had made Mina’s life insufferable. Her father would probably kill him and welcome the noose at Newgate.
Hugh rose slowly, retrieved his boots from in front of the fireplace and sketched a salute to the tall gentleman as he passed through the door. “I’ll be outside if you’d like a second when you shoot him.”
19
Mina felt cozy all over. Bridget had lent her some of her sturdy work stockings and long underwear to layer beneath the one simple day dress she’d packed. And now she was famished. She didn’t care who was in the private dining room. There was a warm fire, hot wine, and lots of food. That’s all she cared about. Julian could go to Hades for all she cared. She’d ignore him.
When she approached the dining room door, Hugh intercepted her. “You don’t want to interrupt what’s going on in there.”
“But…”
“Come with me,” he said, and led her to a quiet set of high cushioned chairs in a corner near the main fireplace. When the barmaid approached, he asked for spiced wine, a loaf of bread and cheeses.
“We have a fine beef stew tonight as well. Would yer fine young lady like a bowl?”
“Yes, please.” Mina didn’t wait for Hugh to answer the young woman.
After she left to fetch their food, Hugh drew his chair around close to Mina’s so that no one else in the pub could overhear their conversation.
“I’m so sorry about how Julian’s behaved,” he began. “He had no business trying to manage your life and push away suitors who could have provided you a good life.”
“I’m glad I had a Season. I’m even glad I got to know how Julian, and apparently all the rest of the male populace of Mayfair, spend their days.”
“But he ruined all of your prospects for marriage.”
“Actually, he saved me from making a huge mistake.”
“A mistake?”
