Page 20 of A Duke to Restore her Memory
They looked up, nodding at him. Sebastian led her to a private table near the large fire, which was crackling merrily, the flames roaring, casting a luminous heat around the room.
“This is pleasant,” sighed Georgina, gazing around. “What a lovely inn. Do you come here often?”
He shrugged. “From time to time, if I happen to be passing through the village,” he said, raising a hand to catch the innkeeper’s attention. “It is the type of place where everyone goes occasionally, ranging from the local miners to the gentry. It is the hub of the community.”
“It must be so wonderful to live in such a close-knit community,” she said in a slightly wistful voice. “To know your place and where you stand within it.”
He stared at her. “I am sure you have a place in your own community, Georgina. We just have to find where it is.”
“No one knows me,” she said, smiling sadly. “No one recognizes me here. I do not belong to this area. That is very clear to me.” She lapsed into silence for a moment, gazing around. “I wonder now why I was riding alone that morning. It seems an odd thing to be doing carrying a bag. Do you think I was really running away from something?”
He hesitated. “It does appear that way. But I can hardly say for certain.”
The bartender arrived to take their order. They both ordered the famous local Cornish pasties along with glasses of the local ale.
They talked sporadically while they ate, keeping the conversation light, avoiding the charged topic of her lack of memory. When they were finished, he sat back, gazing at her.
It had been such a pleasant morning, and he felt like he never wanted the day to end. But then, he always felt like that in her company.
Georgina was a good conversationalist – clever, amusing, and witty. Apart from the fact that gazing at her always took his breath away. She was such a beautiful woman.
I am certain that she is a member of the gentry now. She is far too refined to be a servant. But why then was she dressed so plainly when I found her? It doesn’t make any sense at all.
He was so engrossed in the mystery of her that he didn’t notice the gentleman standing at the bar, waiting for service, until he heard the strident voice. He stiffened, turning around. It was a rival mine owner and his nemesis, Walter Hester.
His eyes flickered over the man. Walter Hester was only a few years older than him, around two and thirty, but he looked much older due to his great girth.
He was a large, thickset man, overfond of fine meals and red wine. His face was so florid it was as if his cheeks and nose had been set alight. Sebastian noted that his sandy hair was thinning and that he was combing it over now.
“Newquay,” boomed the man, noticing him at last. He strode over to the table. “Fancy seeing you here!”
Sebastian smiled tightly, nodding. “Hester.”
“And who is this?” asked Hester, his eyes sliding to Georgina. “Is this the waif who has lost her memory who I have been hearing about? The one who you dragged out of one of your unsafe mines?”
Georgina flushed, staring at the man, and Sebastian’s face tightened. The man was such an obnoxious boor.
“Yes,” he replied. “We have called her Georgina. I thought that bringing her to the village might unlock her memories.” He paused. There was an uncomfortable silence as he took a deep breath. “And how are you, Hester? How is business going?”
He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to talk to the man at all. But now that the man was here, he had no choice but to engage him in polite conversation. Hopefully, Hester would pick up on his reluctance to talk to him and just drift away.
“It is booming,” he declared, in a confident voice. “And we have grand plans to expand, Newquay. We have many plans.” He paused, staring at Sebastian, his eyes filled with barely concealed contempt. “One day, my family will own this whole area of Cornwall. We will own all the mines … including the ones that belong to you.”
Sebastian felt a flash of pure anger. “You will never take the Newquay mines, Hester,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing. “And even if you become the wealthiest man in the district, it will never buy you respectability. Do not forget you do not have a title … and you cannot ever buy one. You and your family will always be upstarts.”
“If you say so, Your Grace,” retorted the man in a mocking voice. “But I would not underestimate my family’s influence. Nor our determination to increase it, along with our wealth.” He paused. “One day, you will be bowing to me, Newquay. Believe it.”
Sebastian had had enough. Abruptly, he stood up, his hands balling into fists at his sides. If he stayed here for another minute, he might do something he would regret … and barroom brawls were beneath him. Hester wasn’t worth it.
“Come along, Georgina,” he snapped. “It has suddenly become quite chilly in here.”
Georgina scrambled to her feet, and they left the inn. Sebastian didn’t look back. He looked at her, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for the throwaway comment he had just made to Hester about being lowborn.
“I am sorry,” he said, turning to her and taking a deep breath. “I did not mean any offence against you by putting that man down for not having a title.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to control his anger. “I do not really believe that having a title makes a person any better than anyone else. That man makes my blood boil. That is all.”
She stared at him, her eyes filled with concern. “I could tell you did not like him,” she said slowly. “To tell you the truth, I did not like him, either, and I do not even know the man.” She hesitated. “He insulted you. I do not blame you at all for saying what you did to him … and I took no offence.”
“Shall we keep walking?” he asked abruptly. “I find I wish to put as much distance between me and Hester as possible.”
