Betrayed Countess (Books We Love Historical Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Intersected by the road, the opulent town homes, three stories high, were graceful like a circle of cream lilies. “I agree, they are lovely. But please, I must go to the rue Great Pulteney.”
    “Roo? What the devil’s a roo?” Kerra scrunched up her triangular face.
    “Ah, it is a street in English.”
    “I think I know where that be, come on.” Kerra led her over a green field with grazing cows. “See over there, them fancy places lined up in a curve? Built by the same man who built the Circus. Called the Royal Crescent. I been in one of ’em afore to visit. Gent told me they’re faced with phony Greek columns in … whatever them Greek column shapes be. Quite impressive. Too bad he weren’t.”
    “Were you betrothed to this man to be visiting him?” Bettina massaged the back of her neck, stiff from bouncing in the coach, and questioned the likes of Kerra being welcomed inside one of these imposing structures. She, however, warmed with relief that England boasted such a fine metropolis where she would now live.
    “Betrothed? Fie, just lied to be more like it,” Kerra laughed.
    “Is that so?” Bettina had no doubts about the kind of person she’d fallen in with. She disliked being snobbish, but Kerra had caused her more blisters. Her slippers were scuffed and filthy. Several well-dressed people passed and eyed them with distaste.
    Bettina stared back. She’d arrived and was proud to have persevered. “Why does this city have the odd name of Bath? Does that not mean washing yourself, in English?”
    “Aye. It’s from the hot springs that’s natural hereabouts. The Romans built a temple, long afore I were born, over the springs. An’ people still bathe there an’ drink the water … if you like that sort o’ palaver.” Kerra shrugged her shoulders in her black frock coat as they continued to walk. “Let’s go down this street. We can have a dram at the Saracen's Head.”
    “I thought you were showing me to Great Pulteney.” Bettina slowed and shifted her bundle. “If you will tell me how to find it, I will go there, and leave you here.”
    “It might be around the corner. But come in with me, I’ll buy you a drink.” Kerra smiled and shouldered her beat-up valise. “Won’t take a minute. Let me offer you a pittance for causin’ that trouble.”
    Bettina sighed. She was thirsty and Kerra acted so earnest. “I suppose I may.”
    “That’s more like it.” Kerra directed her to a building near the corner. The sign had the head of a severe-looking man in oriental garb.
    Bettina glanced down the street. She needed an excuse to move on and a practical one occurred to her. “Is it polite in England to enter such a place without a male escort? I know in my country it is not.”
    “Don’t bother with all that. Come in with me, Mamsell. You be something genteel afore you come here?” Kerra scoffed, rubbing her pert nose. “A lady of the quality?”
    “I … if you say it is fine. We may go in.” Bettina stuffed down her impatience to reach the Littles. In France these days it was dangerous to admit to being higher born. A position she was once proud of now incriminated her. How quickly life could turn. “A cup of coffee perhaps, only that.”
    Inside, the tavern was bathed in shadow, and the air reeked of ale and acrid smoke. Bettina stayed near the door, embarrassed, dying to massage her hands over the small of her back. Kerra sauntered up to a man in a soiled apron.
    “An ale for me, and a cup o’ coffee for my friend,” she announced, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.
    “Just has tea.” The proprietor sneered at them both. A couple of grizzled old men on stools turned to stare. One winked and clicked his tongue in his mouth.
    “Then tea. She’ll make do with tea.” Kerra glared back at the oglers. “Good afternoon, sots. Should woo after someone willing and closer to your own age. If anyone be left alive.”
    Receiving the drinks from a pot boy, as the oldsters jeered, Kerra