The Nightingale Legacy (Legacy 2)

“Yes, he did, therefore Lord Chilton fits me quite as well as my socks. I’ve been here a good half dozen times. Tewksberry likes to have a gentleman occasionally grace his hearth. I believe he thought the strumpet on Mackie’s lap might give me a disgust of his inn. He was quite ready and eager to grab your ear and hau

l you out into the night.”

“Where are you going?”

“To London, actually. I have business matters to see to. But that can’t interest you, Miss Smith. Now, here’s your tea. Why don’t you drink it in peace and I’ll go see if your weak-chinned brother is still among the breathing.”

“Oh, no!” She jumped to her feet, oversetting the teacup. She watched the tea flow over the side of the table onto her skirt.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Smith?”

“My brother wouldn’t want to see you. You’re a stranger, please, you might frighten him and he might have a seizure or something, so please, sir, don’t—”

He sat again, looking calm and bored and really, truth be told, indifferent. “Tewksberry,” he called out, “another cup of tea, please, and a cloth. Miss Smith has been attempting to launder her gown.”

“Thank you,” she said. He merely nodded, paying her no more attention. Again, she heard herself say with no hesitation at all, “It isn’t really that my brother would have a seizure or faint at the sight of you, a strange man. It’s just that he might spit out everything and that wouldn’t be good.”

“Just as you’re spitting to me right now, Miss Smith?”

“Oh dear, perhaps I am but I don’t want to. It’s just that I must continually catch myself at the very verge of spitting. I don’t understand it.”

“Perhaps you’re Catholic and I remind you of a priest from your childhood?”

“Oh no, not at all. Every priest I’ve ever seen looked pale from being indoors too much and, well, ineffectual, I’d say, like they’re afraid to say exactly what they mean for fear of getting smashed.”

“Where are you going in Cornwall? No, don’t spit it right out, make me work for it a bit. I live in Cornwall, you see, and I was wondering if perhaps we would be neighbors one of these days.”

“Work for it, sir.”

“Very well. I live near Goonbell.”

“You’re making that up. Oh, thank you, Mr. Tewksberry. I’m sorry I spilled the tea. This smells delicious.”

Mr. Tewksberry harrumphed, saw that Lord Chilton didn’t look at all discomfited by the strumpet’s presence, and managed a stingy smile. “I will keep Clorie away from you, miss,” he said, “but she’s not happy, no, she’s not. She doesn’t trust you an inch.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Tewksberry. Now, sir, Goonbell? That’s an absurd name, surely you’re making that up.”

“I’ve been found out. Very well, then, I live near Playing Place, which is close by to Cripplesease.”

She laughed and choked on her tea, spitting it out on her bodice. “Oh dear, look what you made me do.”

“At least you’re wet all over now, not just your skirt.”

“Playing Place, what nonsense. Cripplesease, that’s quite impossible.”

“Twelveheads.”

“I can’t drink any more tea, else I might spit it on you and that would never do.”

“Actually, one of those is the truth, or very nearly.”

“Do you know where I come from, sir?”

He raised a black brow, saying nothing at all. Finally he spoke. “I wager that if I just sit here, you’ll blurt it out momentarily.”

“I come from Affpuddle.”

“A lovely place. I spent several quite contented weeks there with my mistress, Mrs. Oddsbottle.”