Page 2 of Joy to the Earl
Wren asked, “Is there another inn further north?”
“Not for ten miles.You’d never make it.Even without the snow, it would be far too dangerous to travel at night.”And it was indeed night by now.When Joy glanced out the window, she saw nothing beyond a deep blue cast.
“Your daughter Amelia.Where is her room?”
The innkeeper explained that his three daughters shared a single bed in a very tiny room along with the innkeeper and his wife in another small bed, hence their inability to offer their own lodgings to Joy and Wren.
“I don’t know what to do.”Feeling overwhelmed by this setback, Joy sank into a chair across from the innkeeper’s counter, and Wren sank to her knees beside her.
The innkeeper promised that he would personally bring out some spiced cider and they would find a solution, though he did not look hopeful.
Joy looked around the foyer of the inn where they sat.The front door opened directly into it, and the counter where the tiny innkeeper presided was on the other side.A very small fireplace was next to the little sitting area where she and Wren currently sat, and she could hear voices from the common room to the left (though the only feminine voices belonged to the innkeeper’s wife and daughters), as well as the more boisterous sounds from the tavern to the right, which was dominated solely by male voices.
As she examined the inn, she saw that virtually every surface was decked with winter greenery.Boughs of deep green holly branches sported little clusters of red berries.These were twined with long strands of ivy and some other evergreen plant that had tiny white berries.Joy thought she detected some sprigs of rosemary tucked into the displays, to judge by the smell.
Tall taper candles were set in the square lanterns placed in each window and along the fireplace mantel, as well as the top of the innkeeper’s counter.The beeswax candles gave a warm glow and a honeyed scent to the room.The flames of the small but energetic fire burned in the tiny grate.She inhaled and caught the scent of roasted beef and pork sausages, along with something rich and buttery.She also thought she smelled the sweet pungency of a mulled wine, or was it cider?In either case, spices permeated the air: cinnamon, clove, pepper, ginger.A cup of such a beverage would go a long way to taking the chill from her bones and skin.Even the relatively short ride from the stranded carriage to the inn had taken its toll on her, and Joy could see Wren shivering as she held her hands out to the small fire.
What would happen if no rooms could be found for them?It was unthinkable to go back out into the vicious wind again.She would sleep in front of the fire in the common room if that’s what it took.
A moment later, however, she heard the voices in the tavern room, and deduced that the men relaxing there had overheard the conversation in the foyer.One gentleman’s voice rose above the others, a baritone that for some reason sent a strange little thrill down her spine.He was saying, “You cannot allow any woman to travel onward in conditions like these.”
“But what can I do, sir?”the innkeeper asked.“All the rooms are taken!Even the hayloft is fully occupied with all the servants of our travelers.Shall I turn out a man who’s already here?A man will freeze just as quickly as a woman will on roads like this.”
The gentleman replied, “I will relinquish my room, if another traveler here would consent to share his with me.”
He spoke loudly enough for all the other men in the tavern to hear him, and after a moment, a man with a voice like gravel announced that he’d be perfectly willing to split the cost of his own room, which had a long couch in addition to the bed.The new man added, “It looks at least as comfortable as many a cot I slept on in the army.”
“There, that’s settled.”The first gentleman sounded quite satisfied.“Let us go inform the ladies that civility is not yet dead in England.”
Joy rose to her feet as she heard the innkeeper approaching along with the gentleman who so kindly offered his own room.She mustered a smile, preparing to offer a polite curtsey and the most emphatic thanks it would be acceptable for her to give to a man she did not know.
Then the innkeeper appeared, a mug of something steaming and delicious in each hand.But she hardly noticed because her gaze was snared by the face behind him.
The gentleman stood much taller than the admittedly tiny proprietor of the inn, and his shoulders were probably more than twice as wide.He wore a simple but richly colored burgundy jacket over a linen shirt that was more cream than white.It suited his slightly darker than typical skin, and the very dark brown hair that grew thick on his head.He was clean shaven, because there was no need to obscure a jawline like that.And his eyes, oh, his eyes.As seductively and deeply emerald green as they were, it seemed impossible that there should be another pair of eyes like that in all of England.
And indeed, there was not.The eyes, the face, the height and breadth.All of it was singular and belonged to a singular man.A man she knew all too well.
The innkeeper was blessedly unaware of Joy’s shock as he shoved a steaming mug of spiced cider into her hands, and then did the same for Wren.He said, “Ma’am, I am delighted, delighted beyond measure that one of our guests has surrendered his own room so that you and your girl may wait out the storm in comfort and—”
“Joy.”The gentleman was staring at her with as much shock on his face as she felt in her own body.Those emerald green eyes had gone wide, and the way he said her name—of all the many, many ways he had said her name in the past—told her that she was the last person he expected to see.
“Douglas,” she replied, despite her throat starting to close up with the threat of tears.“I’m to be beholden to you for my shelter?”
Wren’s mouth hung open in slack-jawed astonishment at the way her mistress was behaving.The ever civil and gracious Joy was being rude to a gentleman who had literally just walked into the room.
The innkeeper’s gaze flickered between the both of them as the truth slowly dawned.“The two of you are already acquainted?”he asked.
“From a long time past,” Douglas said, evidently still reeling.“It is a miracle to see you again, Joy.Er, Miss Plummer.”
“It is Mrs.Whitfield now,” Joy replied in her coldest tone.
He looked stricken, but she quickly turned to the innkeeper, saying, “My maid and I shall wait in the common room until our sleeping quarters are available.”Clutching the mug of cider, which was so hot it practically burned her hands, she silently demanded that Wren join her, leaving the innkeeper standing behind her, next to the last man in England she wanted to see again.
The common room was mostly empty, and Joy hurried to the fireplace, turning away from the hall as if she could will away Douglas’s presence.
“Who is that, ma’am?”Wren whispered between sips of cider.“How do you know him?And why do you despise him so?Will he take his room back?Will we be sent out into the snow?Ought you go back and speak more softly and perhaps be a little more accommodating?”
“I will most certainlynotgo back and be more accommodating,” Joy informed her.“Yes, I know the man.He courted me a decade ago, and then proposed to another woman without any warning.I discovered his change of heart at a party on Christmas Eve, in fact.It is my most sincere wish that he will be stabbed with a thousand icicles and never again be able to startle me in some part of the country where he has no business being.”She took a deep breath and added, “I hope that everything he eats from now on will taste ofolives.”
