Chasing Eliza (Cavendish Mysteries 3)

Chapter One

Eliza yawned and absently swiped an errant curl from her cheek as she crossed the busy tap-room. Returning Bernard’s surly glare, she unceremoniously slapped several tankards of ale onto the rickety wooden table, ignoring the loud protests of the patrons as they were splattered with the foul brew. With a snarl of warning, she snatched up the coins from the table and batted the groping hands off her bottom before collecting several empty tankards and marching back to the battle-scarred plank of wood that posed as a bar.

She had learnt that if she walked fast enough she could get across the packed room without being propositioned or mauled too much. For the several months she had worked at the run-down inn, she had been known to issue patrons a healthy whack upside the head for getting too amorous. As she wove her way through the milling throng, she glared at one unfortunate man who was too familiar with his hands, and wielded the heavy weight of the tankard meaningfully. It was enough to make him pause in his quest for a quick grope, and sullenly return to his drink.

Eliza shot a quick glance at Bernard who had been watching her closely all night, and returned his warning look, her lip curling with contempt. She didn’t care if he gave her the sack. She was sick and tired of spending her nights being groped by drunks who thought they were funny. Horrible, lecherous men, who thought it was hilarious to openly make coarse comments about her sexual prowess in bed, and the voluptuous nature of her body.

If it wasn’t for the need to be near her sister Jemima, then she would be far away from this ramshackle little tavern she currently called home.

She hadn’t told Jemima that the inn also operated as a bawdy house. Of late, her sister seemed to be severely pre-occupied about something; at least she had been two weeks ago when Eliza had seen her last.

Briefly she wondered if they were going to be moving on again. She didn’t want to burden her older sister with her own problems any further than was necessary, but knew it was only a matter of time before she had to make the decision to leave her job; before she ended up being forced into spending her nights as one of the working girls upstairs. If Bernard had his way, she would be up there right now, being serviced by the lecherous customers for pittance a turn.

So far, Eliza had managed to evade his threats, but she knew the time was coming where she would have to make the decision to leave and take her chances elsewhere. It didn’t matter how bad things got, she wasn’t going to turn herself into a whore for any man.

If only she could get Bernard to pay her the money she was owed.

Swiping the bothersome curl off her cheek with a sigh of impatience, she grabbed several tankards and began to weave her way through the crush of bodies.

The main body of the inn consisted of one main room, liberally furnished with ageing tables and stools with a smaller apex to one side that was reserved for the quieter and generally older clientele. Eliza didn’t know which was worse. The heavy crush of sweat-laden bodies of the main room who were constantly trying to catch a quick grope, or the cloying smoke-laden side room that had too many dark corners and an even more gloomy air to it.

A small round table and solitary stool sat near the entrance to the apex which was usually kept aside for the patrons who were waiting for their turn upstairs. Eliza shuddered with revulsion as she eyed the lank, unwashed hair of the man waiting to go up. From the dark smudges on his face, it was clear he hadn’t washed for some time. Even if one ignored the steady odour of sweat and other things she would rather not identify emanating from him; he was hardly the most tantalizing bed partner.

She watched as one client ran down the stairs, a wide grin of satisfaction on his face as he rejoined his table. Within moments the even dirtier man began to weave his drunken way upstairs for his turn. It was a constant procession of men who were prepared to frequent the most run-down inn in the city almost nightly, and drink the foul brew the innkeeper called ale in order to take their turn upstairs for a few pennies a time.

Depositing her burden on a wobbly table, she turned to collect more tankards and froze, her lip curling in contempt as Bernard grabbed her wrist in a painful hold. Immediately she twisted and prised her arm out of his hold, rubbing her bruised flesh as she scowled up at him, waiting for his inevitable lecture.

“Deal with ‘im.” Bernard nodded to the darkest corner of the side room. “He’s been ‘ere a while.” He was staring into the shadows in the far corner warily, a worried frown on his face. Flicking Eliza one last look, he took the empty tankards off her and turned away.

Eliza stared after him nonplussed for a moment before turning to frown at the darkened corner. From her position in the busy tap, it was impossible to see who was there but their presence had a profound impact on Bernard, who appeared to be almost scared of the latest arrival.

Slowly she pushed her way through the groping hands towards the side room, brushing out her ruffled skirts as she broke away from the crush of bodies. Her stomach began to tighten with nerves and her eyes flicked nervously around the room.

Had they found her?

It took every ounce of self control she possessed to appear unperturbed as she entered the smaller side room. The noise level away from the main tap dropped significantly although Eliza daren’t take a deep breath of relief, because the smoke was so thick she would probably choke. She was half-way across the room when she spotted him.

Dressed almost entirely in black, he sat in the corner of the bench with his back leaning against the wall. He blended into the shadows so perfectly that he practically disappeared altogether. She frowned and tried to see him more clearly through the haze of smoke hanging in the air.

New faces in the tavern weren’t anything new. Men came and went all night, and didn’t warrant a second glance. But this one was different. Eliza could see from the dark scowl on his handsome face that he wasn’t a man to be messed with.

He was without doubt the most handsome man Eliza had ever seen; startlingly so. To the point that he was almost beautiful. His brow was wide, his patrician nose lay below wide set, large eyes sitting below sharp slashes of his brows. His elegantly cut hair was thick and very dark; almost black. Through the dimness of the room, it was impossible to tell the colour of his eyes, but they appeared almost black as they stared unblinking at her as she approached. She could feel the coiled power and tension in him and knew that despite his casual pose, this man was ready to strike.

She swept the errant lock of hair from her face with the back of her hand and tried to ignore the flutter of butterflies in her stomach as she drew to a halt before him. She could feel his piercing gaze slide over her from head to toe and shivered as a wave of awareness swept through her. Disturbed by the unwanted feelings, she scowled defensively at him.

“What do you want?” She snapped, impatient to be away from him.

“Brandy.” The deep, husky voice hung in the air between them as his eyes met and held hers.

“B-brandy?” Eliza frowned, uncomfortable with the feelings that shimmered through her. Nobody had made her feel so blatantly feminine before, especially simply by looking at her.

“I take it the innkeeper waters down the ale?” The rich masculine timbre of his voice was stilted and cultured. Eliza wondered what he was doing in such a place as this and if he had made a wrong turn. He certainly didn’t seem the usual type of man who frequented the girls upstairs. Eliza wondered briefly if she should warn him, then decided against it. It really was none of her concern what the man wanted as long as he didn’t work for Scraggan.

“Of course he does. I wouldn’t drink it.” She muttered ruefully, and watched as the firm sweep of his lips quirked with amusement.

“Then bring me a bottle of the best brandy he has.” The softness of his rich voice caressed her skin and Eliza found herself unnaturally wanting to get the man anything he wanted; including herself.