The Wild Baron (Baron 1)

A raindrop hit him square in the eye. It did not, he thought, portend good things for his future.

5

BARON MOUNTVALE’S PARTY OF FIVE ARRIVED SODDEN IN Oxford some thirty minutes later. As Rohan pulled Gulliver to a halt in the inn yard of the Purple Goose, just off High Street, the rain suddenly stopped and a brilliant sun appeared overhead. From one instant to the next, the pesky storm was over.

Rohan was an Englishman. He should be used to the weather, but this storm had taken him by surprise. He looked up, cursed, and shook his fist at that wretched sun.

To his surprise, when Susannah came out from beneath his coat, her bonnet feather straggling over her cheek and ropes of wet hair hanging down her back, she looked at him and laughed. “Wouldn’t you just know it,” she said, patting Marianne’s damp cheek. “Just look, lovey, it’s a glorious day again.” Marianne nodded slowly, looked over at Rohan, who appeared to be more drowned than not, and laughed along with Susannah. Soon Toby joined them, then Jamie. Gulliver, the bugger, whinnied, with Hera quick to answer.

Rohan didn’t laugh. His bones felt sodden. He could practically feel the exquisite Spanish leather boots crumbling at his abuse. The ostler came out of the inn at a dead run, having quickly recognized the baron’s curricle. If he wondered what his lordship was doing with a woman, two children, and a stable lad, he had the good sense to keep it behind his tongue.

Within ten minutes, Susannah had stripped both herself and Marianne. She prayed that Rohan would do the same for Toby.

Surely he would.

And he was, at least he was trying. The boy was modest. He didn’t want to take off his wet clothes in front of Rohan nor did he want any help. Rohan stood there perplexed for a moment, then suddenly remembered his own modesty when he’d been a boy of Toby’s age. And George’s. Oddly enough, Tibolt, the vicar, hadn’t had a modest bone in his body, ever.

He said easily, “I’ll have tubs of hot water fetched for us, Toby. When you get those wet clothes off, you wrap yourself in my dressing gown, the blue one over there on the bed. I’ll be back in five minutes. Keep yourself warm.”

That should give the boy enough time.

He also ordered hot water for Susannah and Marianne.

Since Toby wasn’t about to bathe with him in there, Rohan took himself off to see to Jamie and the horses. Jamie was in the stable, already in dry clothes, singing to Gulliver while he brushed him. Even Hera looked interested as she chewed on a carrot.

“When her daughter got married in Whister

Her mother remarked as she kissed her,

‘That fellow you’ve won

Is sure to be fun—

Since tea he’s kissed me and your sisters.’ ”

Jamie was singing in a high falsetto. Over and over he sang the limerick until Rohan imagined that Gulliver would begin at any moment to tap his huge hooves against the straw. As for Hera, she nickered, but Rohan didn’t know if it was a nicker for Gulliver or for the limerick.

“I must write these down,” Rohan said as he clapped Jamie on his shoulder.

“I’ll give ’em ye, milord,” Jamie said easily, descending immediately into that god-awful English that was nonetheless very charming to the ear.

“In about an hour, you will come to the parlor in the inn for your dinner.”

This Jamie took exception to, being just a stable lad, but Rohan had no intention of letting the boy out of his sight. If Jamie became ill from that blasted rain, they would all be in dire straits.

Thank the good Lord, no one became ill. As for Jamie, Rohan finally gave in and let him eat in the kitchen. Dinner was more peaceful than not because Marianne fell asleep in the middle of her soup. Toby was so fascinated with the barmaid who served them, all he could talk about was the expanse of her that showed.

“A gentleman,” Susannah said finally, after frowning at him for several minutes—a ploy that didn’t work—“does not speak of matters of that nature.”

Rohan choked on the turtle soup. The barmaid’s breasts were beyond big, they were vast. If he were Toby’s age again, he would also be staring until his eyes fell into the soup.

“But, Susannah, how does she keep all that stuff inside her gown?”

“Gowns are designed to keep everything where it belongs. Believe me on this. Now, you will eat your soup, Toby, and when she returns with the beef, you will keep your head down or, if

you must look at her in order to tell her what you want, you can look at her left ear.”

Toby didn’t ever give the barmaid’s left ear a glance, but on the other hand, he wasn’t so stupid as to remark out loud on her endowments again.