Page 20 of The Best-Kept Secrets
Thunder rumbled outside. Duke pulled back the curtain nearest him. Rain fell fierce and fast, just as it had done all day. They had made slow progress. Now, it seemed, they were to make no progress at all—the carriage came to a stop.
Duke’s vantage point offered no view of the road ahead. Whatever might have been on or in the road, he couldn’t see.
“The weather has not been overly cooperative, has it?” Nia was watching the same window he was.
“Far from cooperative,” Duke said. “But I suppose that is to be expected when one is traveling in December.”
Eve took a quick, excited breath. “Writer of almanacs?” she asked him.
Knowing she was once more playing their game, he gave his very solemn usual answer. “No.”
“Drat.” Amusement added a sparkle to her bright and mesmerizing eyes.
“You two truly aren’t going to tell me what these questions are alluding to?” Nia didn’t look upset not to be included.
And Eve, matching his tone almost exactly, answered, “No.”
That set both sisters laughing, which did wake Grandmother. She, however, remained drowsy enough not to launch immediately into complaints.
The carriage door opened. The coachman stood on the other side, using an umbrella to keep rain off himself and out of the inside of the carriage.
“What’s happened?” Duke asked.
“River ahead’s running high. We’re not permitted to cross the bridge, as there’s some concern the water’ll wash over and send us toppling.”
“And there’s no alternative crossing? A more substantial or higher bridge down another road, perhaps?” Duke asked.
“None, Mr. Seymour. They say we’ll have to wait a day or two for the water to drop again and see how the bridge fairs.”
They couldn’t proceed, but neither could they remain where they were, in the middle of a sodden road. They needed a place to stay for a day or two.
“When did we last pass an inn?” Duke asked.
“Likely three miles back.”
That seemed their best option. “Let’s return there. If we are fortunate, there will be available rooms.”
The door was closed, and in mere moments, the carriage was being turned around.
“An unknown roadside inn?” Grandmother sounded horrified. “How do we know we will not be murdered in our undoubtedly uncomfortable beds?”
“Because,” Eve said, “I am not that lucky.”
Duke looked away, biting back a laugh. Letting his amusement show would annoy Grandmother. Giving Nia more things to study in his interactions with Eve might give away more than he was ready to reveal.
The entire three-mile journey back along the road was filled with Grandmother’s complaints about the inconvenience and predictions of doom at the inn she was already convinced would be little better than a hovel filled with murderous criminals. By the time the carriage stopped once more, Duke was more than happy to brave the weather if only to be free of the diatribe.
He took an umbrella with him and climbed out. With purposeful steps that he insisted to himself were not the frantic flight of a coward, he made his way to the door of the inn only to find it locked. He knocked, but no one answered. A second knock went likewise unheeded.
His clothing was growing uncomfortably wet with the rain. He quickly walked around the side of the inn and found a small cottage. He knocked at that door.
This time, his knock was successful.
A man, likely approaching eighty years of age and looking quite a bit worse for those years, stood in the dim doorway.
“No one answered my knock at the inn,” Duke said.
“Inn’s closed. Ain’t no one to run it.”
