Taffeta & Hotspur

“Good. Now if you will, Miss …”

“White, Myriah White,” she offered hastily.

“Miss White … I have some questions.” He waved her to a brown leather winged chair and took one up opposite after she deposited the candleholder on a nearby table and sat. “I would like to know what you and your groom were doing on the Pike Road at such an hour.”

“We were on the way to my aunt’s in Dover. We lost our way … rested the horses and ourselves, and again became hopelessly lost. We hadn’t meant to travel so late, you see, and then I noticed a horse near the ditch and after investigating, found your brother, bleeding to death in the ditch.” There, she thought, that should silence him.

“I see. Then we have imposed on you long enough. Should you need help finding the correct road to Dover, I will be happy to take you there in the morning.”

“No.” Myriah frowned. She had quite convinced herself that she needed to stay for at least a week, thinking she was already in so much trouble, what was another week? In fact, perhaps her father would be so worried he would no longer be furious, only concerned and happy to have her back safe and sound.

“No?”

“What I mean to say … what I have to tell you … well, I suppose only the truth will do. My father wishes me to marry a man I do not love …”

“I see, and you … cannot like the match?”

“I do not wish to marry at all, but unfortunately my father discovered us … kissing … and believes that my honor is at stake, which of course it is not. For goodness sake, why should I be forced to marry someone over a kiss? ’Tis nonsense.”

“And you think to hide from him here? Eventually, you will need to go home.”

“Yes, but time … often fixes things … don’t you think?”

“Time can also work against you, my dear.”

“Please, my lord, just another week?” Myriah pleaded.

He frowned and then sighed. “I can’t very well throw you out. You have saved my brother’s life and have played nursemaid to him … right then, one week, Miss White.”

“Thank you,” Myriah said, feeling wicked about keeping her true identity from him while she remained in his home.

He got up. “I think I’ll visit that scamp brother of mine.” He inclined his head. “Till later then.”

She watched him go and sighed. It was time to go to the kitchen to visit with Cook and pick up some more information about Lord Wimborne!

* * *

The cook greeted her warmly and asked how the young master was. Myriah smiled. “I am sure he will be calling for a man’s dinner this evening. In the meantime, I thought I would fix some tea and biscuits and take it up to him in a bit.”

“How kind of you, Miss,” Cook said, beaming.

“Oh … and I have taken a guestroom and polished it up, but I need some fresh linens and another blanket for the bed. I looked everywhere but couldn’t find them.”

“Lord love ye,” clucked Cook, “that was a job for m’lads, that was. I’ll have them take up what ye need.”

“Thank you,” Myriah said over her shoulder as she put a kettle on the fire.

“Wasn’t expecting his lordship back so soon,” Cook said, obvious looking to gossip. She put a stack of sweet tarts on the tray Myriah had set on the table.

“Yes, Mr. Wimborne was surprised as well—oh, and those look good.”

“They be young Wimborne’s favorite.”

“Have you been with them at Wimborne long?” asked Myriah.

“M’mother was cook at Wimborne before me … ’tis a shame what hard times will do to a place.”

“And they have fallen onto hard times?” asked Myriah.