Page 64 of Married to the Earl

He regarded her for several seconds. “Can’t pay much,” he grumbled.

“That’s all right,” Astrid said, a flood of relief rushing through her. “Really. I just need a job. Any job. I’m willing to work cheap.”

He eyed her suspiciously. Astrid could have bitten her tongue.I shouldn’t have been so eager to accept his first offer, she thought.I should have negotiated.But then again, if she had tried to negotiate, there might not have been a second offer.

The man handed her a dirty apron. “I’m Horace.”

“Betsy,” Astrid lied. She hoped her lady’s maid wouldn’t mind having her name borrowed.

Horace pointed to a tray, and then to a table full of carousing men. “Take those ales to those fellows.”

“So I’ve got the job?” Astrid asked, stunned by how easy it had been.

“Didn’t say that, did I?” Horace said. “We’ll try it for tonight. See how you do. Then I’ll make a decision.”

Astrid nodded. That seemed more than fair to her. And she could certainly get through a night of serving ale to drunk men if it was going to bring her one step closer to freeing her husband and proving his innocence. She picked up the tray carefully and made her way across the room.

The men looked up as she approached. “Here’s the wench with our drinks!” one of them exclaimed loudly. “You certainly took your time about it!”

Astrid didn’t bother to explain that she had just been given the job a few moments ago and therefore couldn’t possibly have gotten their drinks to them any more quickly. She carefully balanced the tray on one arm and transferred the mugs of ale to the table, avoiding eye contact as she did so. Betsy’s warnings rang in her ears.Don’t stand out to them. Don’t be memorable to them. Best that they just see her as an object.

The ales dispensed, she started away from the table. Suddenly, a man called after her. “Girl!”

She turned so fast she almost dropped her tray, startled by his call. “Yes?”

Immediately, she could have kicked herself. Hadn’t Betsy counseled her not to speak?

But the man was only waving an empty mug at her. “Aren’t you going to take these mugs away with you?” he asked, gesturing at the table. Sure enough, it was crowded with empty mugs from the men’s last round of drinks.

Astrid returned to the table without speaking and loaded up her tray with empty mugs. They were lighter than the full ones she had carried over here, of course, but she felt shaky now, her confidence having taken a hit. This hadn’t gone as well as she had hoped. She gripped the tray with two hands as she made her way back to the bar.

Horace was waiting for her and watching her with a scowl. “You’ve never worked in a pub before, have you?”

“What gave me away?” Astrid asked.

“Pretty much everything you’ve done since you walked in the door. It couldn’t be clearer that you don’t belong in a place like this. Why don’t you go on home to your father or your husband, or whoever’s supposed to be in charge of you?”

“I’m not married,” Astrid lied. The lies were starting to come more easily to her.

“Then who do you live with?” Horace demanded.

“I live alone,” Astrid said. “That’s why I need money. I’m alone in the world. I haven’t got anyone to take care of me.”

“You should go look for a job as a seamstress or something,” Horace said. “You’re delicate. I can tell. You’re used to being taken care of. The girls I employ are tough. They’re used to environments like this. They’ve seen more by their twentieth birthday than someone like you would in her life.”

“Maybe that’s not the life I want,” Astrid said.

Horace folded his arms across his broad chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Every middle-class girl should be grateful for what she has.”

What would he say if he knew I wasn’t middle class at all?Astrid wondered.What would he say if he knew I was actually the wife of an Earl?Would he be so overcome by her pedigree that he would give her whatever she wanted with no further argument? Or would he think she belonged here even less, and hasten her out the door?

She summoned all the courage she had within her and stood taller. “That was only my first try,” she said. “I learn quickly, Horace. I can do well at this. Give me a chance.”

Horace groaned. “I can’t believe this.”

“I promise you won’t regret it,” she said.

“Oh, really? I won’t? What about when your father comes in here looking for you and punches me in the nose for giving you a job? What then?”

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