Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Of course it terrified him. How could it not? The whole tragedy still traced back to him—but it wasn’t the result of Rhys being unwanted or worthless. It was the result of his being loved. Meredith thought saving his life was worth every sacrifice, and if he wanted to be with her, he would have to somehow find the courage within himself to agree. Christ. And he’d thought accepting her gift of a shaving kit was difficult?
He’d never run from a battle in his life, but Rhys was running like hell from this.
The ache in his chest intensified. He couldn’t understand why being loved hurt so damn much. And it didn’t help matters any when the carriage gave a violent lurch.
“What’s that?” Cora asked, flinching at the loud crack of a whip.
Rhys tensed. “I don’t know.”
He heard the coachman shouting at the horses from the driver’s box, urging them forward. The entire carriage gave a violent shudder. There was another jolt, this one more jarring than the first. Rhys nearly lost his perch on the seat as the carriage came to a dead stop.
Bellamy looked to Rhys. “Would it help if we offered to walk?”
“Perhaps.”
They never had a chance to act on the idea. With a low, foreboding creak, the carriage began to roll.
Backward.
For the second time in a week, Meredith slept through noon. The inn had no guests, thankfully. She didn’t suppose any locals would be expecting full breakfast today, and if they did—well, they would learn to live with the disappointment.
When she finally gathered the strength to wash, dress, and trudge down the back stairs, she was stunned to find the public room full of men. They’d all gathered round the slate fixed to the wall, arguing and debating. Standing atop a chair, Darryl looked to be defending both the slate and his very life with naught but a nub of chalk. “Now, gentlemen …”
“That purse should be mine,” Skinner said, thumping his chest. “I had five weeks. Didn’t nobody have money on longer.”
Harry Symmonds shook his head. “But it’s been more than five weeks, hasn’t it? That doesn’t make your bet right, just makes it wrong like the rest. Tewkes, just cancel the wagers and call it square.”
Meredith couldn’t believe it. After all that had happened yesterday, they were here this morning to argue over a ridiculous bet? From the bar, she put finger and thumb in her mouth and whistled for attention. When the lot of them swiveled to face her, she finally found her voice. “What the devil are you doing?”
Skinner shrugged. “Well, since Lord Ashworth’s left the village … There are wagers to be settled, Mrs. Maddox.”
Her face burned with anger. With a trembling hand, she retrieved a damp sponge from underneath the bar and threw it at Darryl. It hit his shoulder with a wet squelch, and he yelped with surprise.
“Wipe that slate clean,” she ordered.
Darryl obeyed while the men looked on in silence.
“Now get out,” she said. “All of you. The Three Hounds is closed until further notice.”
The men didn’t move.
“Out!” she shouted, jabbing a finger at the door. “Now!”
As they shuffled toward the exit, jostling and grumbling amongst themselves, an anxious-looking Darryl called over the din. “It’s only temporary, gents! Don’t count out the Three Hounds. We’ll have this place fixed up in no time, me and Mrs. Maddox, and we’ll be serving pints again before you know it.”
“Don’t make promises, Darryl,” Meredith said. “Go see to the horse barn. Surely there’s a stall that needs mucking out, if you’re in the mood to shovel excrement.”
“Now, Mrs. Maddox.” Darryl moved toward her, apparently choosing not to take offense. “I know the place looks bad, but we’ll have it back to form in no time. And it will all work out for the best in the end. It’s like you said. Men come and go, but this road is always here. And so’s the inn. We always have the Three Hounds. It’s our home.”
“Thank you, Darryl.” The youth’s words were well-meant, she supposed, but they didn’t offer her much consolation. This inn didn’t feel like home, not anymore. “Now, if you don’t mind … I really would like a moment to myself.”
“Of course, Mrs. Maddox. We’ll sort out the glassware this afternoon.”
Meredith stared after him, wondering if she needed to talk with Darryl about minding his place. The young man was growing a touch presumptive.
Once he’d left and she was alone, Meredith sat in one of the few remaining sturdy chairs. She looked around at the building she’d worked so hard to improve, taken so much pride in running with efficiency and style. She’d always said her heart was in this inn. And perhaps it had been, once. But it wasn’t anymore. Her heart was with Rhys, and he was gone. She stacked her arms on the table before her and bent her head.