Page 75 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
“What about that place?” she said, gesturing.
Chapter 19
The smell of wood and smoke was the first thing that settled across Tristan’s senses as they walked into the inn. His eyes looked around the reception area, taking in the accommodations. He stared at the decent floorboards, the walls that seemed to look all right for their age.
At least, he polishes them regularly, he thought to himself. A few lanterns burned softly at the edges of the walls, casting a somewhat flickering glow on the floorboards themselves.
“This does not look that bad,” Eliza commented.
“I was going to say the exact same thing.”
He was still inspecting the room when the side door by the wall opened and Mr. Kale stepped out with his daughter. His features, for some reason, were more defined under the candlelight. Tristan could see the glow of his beard clearer now.
“Well now,” Mr. Kale said, smiling at both of them as he moved closer. “It is good to see you both again.”
Tristan offered a nod, but his eyes followed Eliza instead. She had already knelt down, her dress spilling softly across the worn planks, to greet Kale’s daughter.
“And you must be Jane,” Eliza said, her tone bright with playfulness.
Jane clutched Lemon close to her chest. “I am Jane, my lady,” she said, eyes wide with a mixture of shyness and pride. “How do you know my name?”
“Well, let’s just say your father loves to talk about you,” Eliza replied, pretending to pout.
Jane’s eyes widened. “Thank you, my lady. What is your name?”
“Jane, you cannot ask the lady—”
“Please,” Eliza interrupted, raising her hand. “I don’t mind answering her questions. My name is Eliza.”
“You have a lovely name, too,” Jane replied, her arms tight around the purring cat.
Eliza gasped softly, as though Jane had just paid her the grandest of compliments. “Do you think so? Then I shall believe you, because you seem to be a very honest little girl.”
The child giggled, her shoulders lifting as if she had just been handed a secret treasure.
Tristan stood a pace behind, watching it all unfold. The way Eliza tilted her head when she listened. The way her hands hovered near the child, not too close, not too far, gentle in their steadiness.
Jane pulled at Eliza’s glove and held Lemon out into the firelight. “Would you like to hold him?”
“Oh my, are you certain?” Eliza asked.
Jane nodded firmly.
Eliza gathered the cat into her arms. Lemon purred, curling into the crook of her elbow as though he had known her all his life.
Eliza laughed, her soft voice carrying gently through the reception. “He is much heavier than I thought.”
Jane leaned close, whispering with mock seriousness. “He eats too much.”
“Let me tell you a secret,” Eliza teased, leaning closer to the girl and dropping her voice. “So does my husband.”
Tristan’s mouth curved before he could stop it. He shook his head, but Jane burst into giggles, and Eliza laughed along with her.
Mr. Kale returned with a key in hand. “I have found you a room. One of our best. You will find fresh linens and the fire already set.”
Eliza rose carefully, returning Lemon to Jane. “You knew we would be spending the night here?” she asked, her brow lifting.
Kale shrugged with easy humor. “This is the only inn for miles. And it does not take a clever man to look at the sky and know rain is coming.”
