Page 28 of One Night for Seduction
But then he heard an unmistakable female voice emanating from a rear room. The murmur was immediately followed by a man’s baritone.
Cole was across the dining salon and barging into the private chamber before his brain even had a chance to think.
The male voice appeared to belong to the tavern’s owner. The female voice, none other than Miss Middleton. As for what they were doing…
Their heads were bent over a hogshead of beer. The manager’s thick arms were folded over his barrel chest. In one of Miss Middleton’s slender hands was a mug of ale.
Both sets of eyes widened in surprise at Cole’s interruption.
“What are you doing here?” Miss Middleton stammered.
“What the devil areyouabout?” he demanded in reply.
“Mrs. Peabody is tuning our scales,” said the owner. “Did you come to join her for breakfast?”
Cole gaped at them both. “Mrs. Peabody?”
“I’m afraid I cannot dine today, Mr. Smith,” Miss Middleton said smoothly. “But you’re absolutely right. This batch of ale has a far more balanced flavor than the last.”
Cole’s tongue was thick with confusion. “Balanced… flavor?”
“Well, now, that’s thanks to you, Mrs. Peabody,” the owner replied, his pale cheeks flushing in pleasure. “You were right about the proportion of hops to barley, and which source currently has the best crop.”
Each word seemed to tip the world further off-kilter.
“You improved his ale recipe?”
“And the ingredients,” the owner said with pride. “We now brew with the finest barley available to London.”
Cole blinked. “Not the Nicholson farm?”
Mr. Smith beamed back at him. “The very one.”
Cole spun toward Miss Middleton in befuddlement. “But how would you know—”
She looped her arm through his and pivoted toward the door. “That’ll do, I believe. Mr. Smith, thank you for your hospitality.”
“Come back anytime,” he called after them.
The moment they were out of the tavern and into the relative sunlight of the alley, Cole turned Miss Middleton to face him. “Mrs. Peabody, is it?”
“It’s actually Diana,” she murmured. “To my friends.”
“I am not your friend,” he told her firmly. “I am your self-appointed chaperone until further notice because whoever issupposedto be your duenna is not up to the task.”
She lifted her chin. “I do not require your help. In fact, your presence is a hindrance.”
“A hindrance to what?”
She sighed. “Our system of weights and measures is broken. Hundreds of dishonest vendors cheat their clients every day, stealing from unwitting customers without recompense because absolutely nothing is done to—”
“Nothing is done?” Cole’s neck began to heat. “I personally pushed for reform that enacted better laws just two years ago. It’s not as though London has a list of known villains that we’re willfully ignoring—”
“It isexactlyas though London has a list, because I wrote it myself!” Miss Middleton snapped. “I write a new report every month, including indexes for and updates to the miscreants mentioned in past missives. I am in a singular position of authority on the matter, and Act or no Act, you haven’t done enough!”
“How are you an authority?” he asked. “Who is the real Mrs. Peabody?”
“Mrs. Peabody is the harried under-secretary of a litigious barrister,” Miss Middleton bit out, “and she doesn’t exist. The problems do, however, and so do the solutions.”
