Page 3 of Haunted
“Wait,” she said, before she could think, let alone talk herself out of it. “Why did you comehere?”
“They said in the village you might have room. The inn is packed to the gunnels, and I could not face spending the night in the coffee room with hordes of strange drunks.”
She swallowed, keeping her gaze on his face and hoping she wasn’t about to make the worst mistake of her life. “Mark, go and fetch Martin. He won’t have heard the door for the noise of the thunder.”
Mark grinned and ran off. He was too starved of company not to welcome a stranger. There was guilt in that, but mostly she was concerned with the traveler.
She glanced at his sodden bag. At least it appeared to be made of leather. “Have you dry clothes in there?”
“I hope so.”
“If they are damp, Martin will bring you something of my husband’s. He will show you to a room to change, and then you had better come to the drawing room. There is at least a firethere. Martin will show you the way,” she added, to make sure he understood he would not be left alone to wander the house.
“Thank you.” He slid his hand off the latch with unmistakable relief.
“Give me your hat and your coat,” she commanded.
Obediently, he peeled them off, but hung them on the empty hooks on the coat stand instead.
Mark bounced back through the baize door with Martin wheezing behind him. They had come so quickly that she knew Martin must already have been halfway up the stairs when Mark found him.
“Martin, be so good as to show this gentleman to the spare room. Lend him anything of Mr. Hazel’s that he might need. Then bring him to the drawing room.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Martin replied, scowling at her, though whether because of the effort required or her admission of a strange man to the house, she could not tell.
The stranger meekly followed the old man upstairs, carrying his own bag. Thunder rumbled into the distance.
Francesca took the dripping beaver hat from its hook and passed it to Mark before lifting the overcoat, heavy with moisture. “We’ll take these to the kitchen to dry,” she said, and Mark happily followed her back down again.
There, she asked Ada to make tea while she hung the overcoat close to the kitchen stove. Hastily, she made a few sandwiches under Ada Martin’s glower and carried the tray up to the drawing room herself.
She was only just in time. She heard Martin’s slow tread on the stairs, and then a murmur of voices before quick, sure footsteps across the hall floor. A knock sounded on the drawing room door.
“Come in!” Mark called cheerfully.
The stranger entered with a somehow endearing lack of certainty. Too much arrogance, or even self-confidence, would have appalled her just then and probably sent her from the room, dragging Mark in her wake. But despite the man’s gentlemanly posture and clearly excellent clothing, his expression was apologetic and wary.
In fact, it came to her that he was anxious.
“Forgive me. I was mistaken,” he said.
His hasty speech calmed her further. “Sit down and tell me how, over tea. Take the chair nearest the fire—you must be chilled to the bone. Do you like your tea with cream and sugar?”
“Just sugar, thank you.” He took the cup from her with a nod that was almost a bow and took himself off to the opposite chair. Mark gazed at him with an interest that did not appear to disconcert him—at least not any further.
The stranger said, “I thought from the way the men spoke at the inn that this was some kind of rooming house. It is clearly no such thing. I can only beg your pardon for disturbing you. Is it improper for me to stay here?”
Francesca sighed. “I think you were misled rather than mistaken, sir.”
His eyebrows flew up. “Deliberately? Why?”
“I am foreign. I have no husband to protect me, and they choose to think the worst. I believe you were not meant to believe me the landlady of a rooming house, but rather a merry widow who welcomes the company of single gentlemen.”
The stranger blushed, which enchanted her.
“I am glad the possibility did not cross your mind,” she said frankly. “Or I really would throw you out in the storm.”
“Perhaps you should anyway. It is already lessening, and if you are alone here apart from servants…”
