A Hellion In Her Bed Part 12

But his lower lip quivered, and Jarret knew that he'd thought it. Jarret would have wondered much the same thing in George's place. Boys of twelve chafed at being told that a woman could do things better than they could, even if it were true.

"Father says women don't belong in the brewery," George ventured.

"Ah." No wonder Annabel was so defensive on the subject. Yet clearly she went there anyway. Did her brother allow it because he had no choice, given his illness? Or did Annabel have to go for other reasons?

Once again, he got the feeling that there was more here than met the eye. "What do you think about women in the brewery?"

George blinked. Clearly no one ever asked him his opinion. "I don't rightly know, since I'm not allowed there myself. Aunt Annabel seems to like it, and Mother says she does a good job."

"And your father? What does he say about her prowess?"

Her voice answered from behind him. "He says I should get a husband and leave brewery matters to his manager." Annabel glowered at him. "But you didn't need to interrogate my nephew just to learn that, did you?"

Jarret met her glower with a raised eyebrow. Well, well. There was definitely more here than met the eye. Annabel was keeping secrets. The question was, what kind? And how might they affect him and this scheme of hers?

One way or the other, he would find out.

Chapter Eight.

Annabel was already cranky because of Mrs. Cranley's nonsense, and finding Jarret quizzing poor Geordie only made it worse. If Jarret found out the real reason that Plumtree Brewery was failing, there would be no more help from him.

But she didn't think he'd learned that, or he'd be angry at her. No anger showed on his face, only the sort of wariness he'd worn from the beginning.

Good. Right now they had far more pressing concerns.

"I have bad news," she went on in a low tone. "Apparently a man present at our card game in London happened to pa.s.s through here this morning. He told Mrs. Cranley that a Miss River from Wharton gambled with your lordship at a tavern last night."

A thin smile tipped up his lips. "A 'Miss River'? And your friend, Mrs. Cranley, didn't make that connection?"

"Fortunately, no. And she's no friend to me. Since her informant made ... certain nasty insinuations about your 'scandalous conduct' toward 'Miss River,' Mrs. Cranley is full of concern about our traveling with you." Her voice turned bitter. "She says you're a notorious seducer of innocents, and we should tell you to go on while we stay here until the mail coach comes through."

His face turned stony, with only the glitter of his blue-green eyes betraying his anger. She felt a moment's pity for him. He must tire of the gossip.

Then again, the only one who would really suffer from the gossip was her, if anyone ever connected "Miss River of Wharton" to "Miss Lake of Burton." She wished she could give Mrs. Cranley a piece of her mind about rumormongering, but that would only focus the woman's attention in the wrong direction.

This was Annabel's punishment for having accepted Jarret's wager. She should have realized that the men in the tavern would make lurid a.s.sumptions about what a rogue like Jarret must have asked her to do in payment for the bet. Men always a.s.sumed the worst about women, and she ought to be used to that by now. Especially when their a.s.sumptions hadn't been far off the mark.

A door opened behind Jarret, and Annabel groaned. "Sissy is coming. Honestly, I think we should just leave. I don't know how much of a fuss that foolish woman will make if we stay, and you shouldn't have to put up with her nonsense."

With eyes that brooked no argument, Jarret leaned back to cross his arms over his chest. "I'm used to gossip. Besides, I've already ordered." His smile was forced. "Let her say what she will. I'm not budging until I get my roast loin of pork."

Sissy strode up, looking anxious. "I don't think my friend will say anything, my lord. I told her how kind you've been to us and how false the gossip is." She took a seat across from Jarret on the other side of Geordie. "Mrs. Cranley is no fool-I'm sure now that I've explained to her about your fine character, she'll understand."

Somehow Annabel doubted it.

Nervously, Sissy unfolded her napkin. "Though it's probably just as well that she didn't guess 'Miss River's' true ident.i.ty. I swear, I can't believe the awful things people dream up. Whoever this wretched traveler was, he ought to be shot for claiming that you and Annabel were wagering for something as salacious as-"

"Sissy!" Annabel cut in, with a glance at Geordie.

Sissy colored. "Oh, right."

"What does 'salacious' mean?" Geordie asked predictably.

"Never you mind, Geordie," Sissy said. "Sit down, Annabel. I'm sure Mrs. Cranley will not be rude."

With a sigh, Annabel took the seat beside Jarret. Sissy had a tendency to think the best of people who didn't deserve it.

"If 'salacious' comes from Latin," Geordie mused aloud, "then it has to do with leaping. What is there to wager over in that?"

"It doesn't concern you," Annabel said. "You can look it up when we get home."

"But I want to know now!" he protested. "It could have something to do with leapfrog-"

"It means 'l.u.s.tful,'" Jarret put in. When Annabel shot him a reproving glance, he added, "The lad is old enough to be told when a member of his family has been insulted."

Geordie sat up straight. "Yes, I am. Old enough to call the man out for it, too."

"Don't be silly, Geordie," Sissy said. "That traveler is long gone by now."

"And he'd be unlikely to agree to a duel with a twelve-year-old, anyway," Annabel said dryly. She raised her eyebrows at Jarret. "You see what you started?"

"If George is providing you ladies with protection," Jarret countered, "he should start thinking like a man. He can't do that when you treat him like a child."

Though Annabel bristled, Sissy flashed Jarret a strained smile. "How kind of you to take such an interest in our Geordie, my lord. Isn't it, Annabel?"

Annabel's eyes narrowed on him. "Yes. So very kind of him."

"Hardly," he remarked. "I merely remember what it was like to be twelve."

That gave her pause. What had Jarret been like at twelve? As f.e.c.kless as he was now? Or more sober? He'd said his grandmother had raised him from the age of thirteen. Had his character changed then? No one could survive the violent deaths of their parents and be untouched by it.

Or perhaps her attraction to him was making her look for depths of character where none existed. Careful now, missy. There's always some truth to even the vilest gossip.

Just then, a servant approached with their food. There was no sign of Mrs. Cranley, thank goodness. Apparently the woman had contented herself with merely cautioning Annabelle and Sissy about Jarret's character.

The servant set the ale down first. Annabelle sniffed it. Leave it to Mrs. Cranley to purchase an inferior brew. She sipped some and wrinkled her nose, too engrossed in a.s.sessing its quality to notice when Sissy told the servant to take one of the plates back to the kitchen.

"The mistress insisted that I give it to his lordship," the servant countered and tried to scoot past her to put it before Jarret.

Sissy whisked it from the maid before the girl could react. "He can have the other." When the servant protested again, Sissy began to eat from it. With a shrug, the servant served Geordie.

"It's all the same food, Mother," Geordie said. "I told Lord Jarret you were fond of a good loin of pork."

"I am indeed," she said as she took another big bite. Then she made a face.

At that, Jarret's eyes narrowed. Reaching over, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the plate from her and stared hard at it. "You can't eat this."

That's when Annabelle looked closer. The meat's off color and rancid smell made her gag. She glanced at the other dinners, but theirs looked fine.

"That gossipy witch Mrs. Cranley gave you bad meat, Sissy!" Annabel exclaimed. "How dare she? I shall give her a piece of my mind!"

Annabel started to stand, but Jarret pulled her down. "She didn't intend it for Mrs. Lake. She meant it for me."

"I-I'm sure it was just a mistake," Sissy said weakly.

"The only mistake was in my letting us remain here." Jarret rose to dump the plate's contents in a nearby slop bucket. Then he walked up to Sissy and held out his arm. "Come, we're leaving. We'll stop to eat at an inn in the next town."

Thankfully, she let him lead her from the table without protest.

"How much did you eat?" Annabel asked Sissy as they headed for the door.

"Not much," Sissy said.

"Too much," Jarret countered. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Lake. I didn't at first realize what you were up to." He stared grimly ahead. "Or how desperate your friend was to drag you from my wicked clutches."

"I'm certain she didn't mean-"

"Don't you dare apologize for her again," Annabel said hotly. "We don't blame you, Sissy. It's your supposed friend who ought to be shot."

When they reached the entrance to find Mrs. Cranley standing there directing a malevolent look at Jarret, he stiffened. Releasing Sissy's arm, he told Annabel in a low voice, "You three go on to the coach. I'll be there shortly."

"How was your meal, my lord?" the woman had the audacity to ask as Annabel pulled Sissy and Geordie toward the door.

"Next time you attempt to poison someone, madam," Annabel heard him say behind her, "make sure your servant is clear on her instructions. Before I could stop her, Mrs. Lake took several bites of the pork you intended for me."

Annabel glanced back in time to see the woman blanch.

Jarret's expression of righteous anger warmed her heart. "So I hope you enjoy the results of your foolish plan to 'save' your friend from my wicked influence. Because if she dies, I'll have you prosecuted for attempted murder. Do I make myself clear?"

"My lord, I didn't ... that is ..."

Annabel urged Sissy to the carriage. Though Sissy seemed fine now, Annabel still worried. It was so like Sissy to try to cover up her friend's behavior by taking the error upon herself. It simply wasn't right.

Annabel hadn't liked Mrs. Cranley before, and now she positively hated her. Who did such a foolish thing? And all because of some gossip! The woman was daft, if Sissy could only see it.

Jarret had seen it, though he'd taken it in stride, as if he really were used to being gossiped about. He probably was. If Annabel had heard the stories even in Burton, then everyone had heard them.

But this particular tale had happened because of her. The thought plagued her even after he joined them and they went on to the next town. Though Sissy ate a hearty meal when they stopped, Annabel couldn't stop feeling guilty. None of this would have happened if Annabel hadn't accepted that cursed wager.

Then again, without the wager she wouldn't have convinced Jarret to come to Burton. She just wished she'd considered what could occur if people realized what the wager was about.

When they stopped near nightfall at an inn just outside Daventry that Jarret had said was recommended to him, she watched as he arranged two rooms-one for him and another for Sissy, Geordie, and her. It felt strange having a man look after her and her family. Hugh had practically abdicated his responsibility, and Rupert had never had the chance to take it.

Lately she'd always been the one to take charge, to arrange things. How wonderful to let the responsibility fall on someone else's shoulders again. And considering that she'd forced him into doing this, that he didn't even want to be here ...

A lump caught in her throat as the four of them reached their floor, and Jarret headed for his room. "Sissy, why don't you and Geordie go on? I need to speak to his lordship a moment."

Though Sissy shot her a quizzical glance, she took Geordie down the hall.

Annabel headed the opposite direction. "Jarret!" she called out as he unlocked the door to his own room.

He paused in the doorway. "What is it?"

"I want to apologize."

He looked bemused. "For what?"

"First of all, for making you the subject of gossip yet again. Honestly, I didn't think anyone outside of London would ever learn of our card game. I certainly never thought people would guess that you and I ... that you ..."

She trailed off as two people pa.s.sed them in the hall, shooting them curious glances. As soon as the couple had disappeared, she tugged Jarret into his room and pulled the door partly closed so they could have some privacy.

"I should never have agreed to your terms for the wager," she said bluntly.

His smile exposed his dimples. "I should never have offered them. What's done is done. No sense regretting it now."

"But it's my fault that Mrs. Cranley-"

"Don't be absurd. You're no more responsible than your sister-in-law. Mrs. Cranley had an ax to grind, and she used the gossip as an excuse to grind it on me. I only wish she hadn't involved your family in it. And I pray to G.o.d, Mrs. Lake suffers no adverse effects from the woman's ill-considered actions."

"Me, too. I shudder to think of what might have happened if you hadn't noticed the bad meat and stepped in. For that, I must offer you my fervent thanks."

When she went to the door, he drawled, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

She turned. "I beg your pardon?"

A wicked smile curved his lips as he approached her. "There are other things you should thank me for."

"Like what?"

"I did entertain your nephew while the two of you were off gossiping about me."

Good point. "Thank you for that, too, my lord," she said primly.

With eyes gleaming, he came to stand far too close. "Then there's the fact that I'm transporting you to Burton in the comfort of my brother's carriage."

Her pulse quickened. "The only one deserving thanks for that is your brother."

"Ah, but I made it possible for you to use it." He snagged her about the waist. "And I can think of an excellent way for you to show your grat.i.tude."

"Writing a sonnet to your generosity?" she said sweetly, her heart racing and her knees definitely wobbly.