Charlotte Louise Dolan Read Online Free PDF Page B

upon him, because the poor fool could expect to receive none from the baron.
    * * * *
    Anne Hemsworth descended from the coach at the Red Stag in Tavistock and efficiently directed the guard as to the removal of her luggage. The yard of the staging inn was bustling with hostlers unhitching the spent horses and bringing out the new team, with passengers embarking and debarking, and with sundry other people going about their business, all in the greatest of haste.
    After the stage departed to continue its journey to Liskeard, a degree of calm gradually descended upon the yard, but no one appeared to inquire if she were being met or if she would require a room for the night. When five minutes of patient waiting stretched into ten, Anne decided to take matters into her own hands.
    Waylaying the landlord as he hurried by, she inquired if anyone had arrived from Wylington Manor.
    He eyed her impassively from the top of her bonnet to the tips of her half-boots, but she was quite used to receiving such thorough inspection, and it had been years since she had been discomposed by people’s reaction to her unusual height.
    “Another new governess, eh? Aye, Harry came with the gig nigh on an hour ago. Happen you’ll find him in the taproom.”
    “And how may I recognize Harry?”
    The landlord gave her a speculative look, and for a moment she was not sure he intended to answer.
    “Just look for the man with the least hair on his head and the most on his chin, and that’ll be the one you want.” With a snort that might have been intended as a laugh, he turned away to deal with another guest.
    Standing in the door of the taproom it was not hard, based on the landlord’s description, to pick out the most likely candidate. The majority of the customers drinking their ale were clean-shaven, but one appeared not to have touched a razor in at least a sennight. Whether or not he was bald was not immediately apparent, since he wore a shabby cloth hat pulled down low over his forehead, but Anne was reasonably assured that she had the right man.
    Approaching him where he sat at the bar, she heard the buzz of conversation around her gradually die down. The room was completely silent, all attention obviously on her, when she asked, “Are you Harry? The groom from Wylington Manor?”
    He turned to look at her. “And what if I am?” he replied insolently, then spat in the sawdust at her feet.
    “I am the new governess. I believe you have been sent to meet me.”
    “All in good time. I ain’t done talking to my friends.” He turned his back on her, and a low murmur of amusement rippled through the room.
    Well, thought Anne, as Aunt Sidonia always said, start as you mean to go on. With lightning speed, she grasped the groom’s ear firmly and hoisted him off the bench.
    “Ow, ow, let go my ear! Whatcher think yer doing? Ow, ow, let go!”
    “I find I much prefer to leave at once.” Amid equal numbers of catcalls and cheers from the other patrons, she dragged the recalcitrant groom stumbling and protesting across the room and out the door. By the time they reached the yard, he was half running to keep up with her stride, in a futile effort to ease the pressure on his ear.
    She did not release him until they had crossed the sill into the stables. “Now, harness up the horse and let us be on our way.”
    Rubbing his sore ear, he backed away from her. “And if I don’t? Whatcher plannin’ to do then? Harness up by yourself?”
    There was naked hostility in his expression, but then she had never found popularity worth the price one had to pay.
    She took one step toward him, but he darted away before she could grab his ear again. In matters of strength, she knew she had the advantage, but she declined to make herself look foolish by chasing him around the stables.
    Luckily, he was not indispensable, although he appeared to think he was. There was only one gig presently in the stable, so that presented no problem, but trying to guess which