Page 75 of Seductive Reprise
She set her jaw, trying to block out the thoughts that had nagged her the entire journey as she sat in the train car, jammed like cattle between a man who smelled strongly of onions and a young mother with an empty, exhausted stare as a squirming child kept climbing atop her, kicking Rose’s shoulder in the process. She still did not know what to do, or who she even was anymore.
But she was not bound to figure it out in the mud of the yard, hungry and covered in travel dust.
The Bit and Bridle was quiet, eerily so. She heard only the sounds of the wagon that had brought her here—the driver talking in low tones to his horses and the clank of their tack as they shifted about, nickering. A bird cried overhead.
Truth, it’d been a time since she’d visited, but even so, the inn had been busy—hadn’t it? Rose frowned and trudged ahead. The rail station had been packed to the gills when she’d arrived. Andnot even one of the lads had come out to greet the approaching wagon. She’d have to tell her father. Mayhap they were taking advantage of his increasing age.
She heard the wagon take off behind her, its wheels crunching across the yard.
Only then did the inn reveal its first sign of life: a small dog, a terrier of some sort, yapping as it appeared from one of the outbuildings, taking off after the wagon with such confident force, as if it believed itself responsible for chasing the driver off. It gave her a start, which dismayed her. After being accosted and then robbed, it seemed her nerves were still on a hair-trigger.
As were her emotions, which threatened to overcome her just now. The sight of the little creature made her think of Walter and his pathetic little suit, light blue and dripping with ruffles. How much care she’d taken in painting that lace. Tears burned behind her eyes as she watched the dog give chase. They’d never had a dog before. Well, not like this one, at any rate; over the years the staff had kept a motley crew of mutts, which had always lived in the stables with the horses, but never a small beast like this.
By now the wagon was a fair distance down the lane, and the dog finally gave up. Standing in the middle of the path, it let loose a few more sharp barks of warning, interspersed with eager tail-wagging.
“Pep!Viens!”
Rose spun around at the familiar sound of her father’s voice. The dog took off toward the inn as well, whizzing past her with a speed she didn’t expect.
Louis Verdier lifted a hand in greeting before bending over to ruffle the ears of the black and white terrier. He moved slowly, Rose noted, and seemed more stooped than ever. A sad nostalgia settled upon her, but she bit her lip and moved forward, toward the inn and her father. The man who’d raised her, even if he had not sired her.
“You did not send word.” Her father cast a suspicious eye over her as she approached. “And you’re not eating,” he said flatly.
“I…” He looked even older this close up, and she stumbled on her words. Pursing her mouth for a moment, she tried again. “I’m sorry?”
“Ah,” he said with a chuckle, then pulled her into a hug.
The dog took umbrage at that, circling their feet, yipping in alarm. Rose stepped back, one eyebrow raised.
“Pep. Peppy. She keeps the rats at bay.”
“What about Daffodil?” she said, knowing the answer even before her father grimaced.
“Yes, many changes at the inn,” he sighed, then bent over to pick up Pep, who gleefully licked at his weathered face, swishing her tail even as she was held aloft.
Rose put aside the memory of the cat and snorted. “I’ll say. Not one of the lads in sight.”
Her father began walking toward the front door, stroking the dog’s wiry fur. “No lads, not anymore. Only Victor remains.”
Rose froze mid-step, surprised. “Why?”
Her father didn’t bother to turn around, only shrugged and puffed out an indifferent sound. “No need. Business is rather slow. Trains, always with the trains,” he muttered.
She rushed to catch up, guilt weighing on her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she said, but it felt paltry.
“You keep saying that,” her father responded absentmindedly.
“Well, I lost my income some time ago. I should’ve sent an explanation or… I don’t know, at least a word about how I was getting on.” She felt a wretched sort—not only impoverished and victimized, but a terrible daughter. “I’m sorry,” she finished inelegantly. She silently cursed the brown-shawled woman and her tired eyes.
“Pah,” he said in reply, brushing aside her admission and holding the door open for her.
She dreaded what she might find—or not find—inside the inn, as well as the thought of how she could ever afford to help correct whatever had befallen it. Strangely, though, it was as tidy as ever, perhaps even cleaner since there were no guests within to spill their ale and scuff the floor with their muddy boots. She looked at her father quizzically. Without any business or the funds she used to send home, she’d expected filth and ruination.
As ever, her father wasn’t interested in explaining himself. Instead, he merely instructed her to clean up well before supper, since he’d require her assistance.
Perplexed, Rose’s head was on a swivel as she went up to her old room, searching for any sign of disrepair or neglect. She found none, nor did she find a single other soul. Only Pep, who’d leapt from her father’s arms to follow her curiously and who now hung back from the open door, head tilted with one paw aloft as she tried to puzzle out this newcomer.
“I won’t bite,” Rose murmured, holding her hand out. Pep was not convinced, and remained in place despite a tentative swish of her tail. “Alright, suit yourself,” Rose sighed, and she set down her bag, leaving the door open in case the terrier changed its mind.
