Home > Her First Desire(11)

Her First Desire(11)
Author: Cathy Maxwell

“You are not going to believe what I just went through,” Ned muttered to the horse as he untied him.

Hippocrates stomped one foot as if saying he was well aware.

“We will not go to see Bran and Kate until we pay a call on the Reverend Summerall and track down Mars,” Ned informed his horse as if he was a co-conspirator in the endeavor to root Mrs. Estep out of The Garland. Ned prayed that the minister alone would be enough to expose Mrs. Estep as a fraud . . . because he feared the earl was in London. That could be sticky.

He had one foot in the stirrup and was ready to hoist himself in the saddle when he heard his name being called in a sharp female voice. “Mr. Thurlowe. Here there, Mr. Thurlowe. I have a bone to pick with you.”

Ned swore under his breath. It was Mrs. Warbler, the nosiest of all the Matrons of Maidenshop. She lived right across the road from The Garland and there was little that escaped her notice.

He schooled his features to a politeness he did not feel. Could this day grow worse? He took his foot out of the stirrup and faced the older widow who knew everything going on in the village. “Mrs. Warbler, how good to see you today,” he said as if by rote.

“Don’t be sweet to me.” She’d come out of her house without hat or gloves, a sign of her haste to reach him. Instead, she had her lace morning cap over her short gray hair. She dressed well. Her late husband had been a military officer and she’d done right by him. “You know what happened last night.”

This was dangerous ground.

“I saw you, sir, and the rest of the rabble. You refer to yourselves as gentlemen. Yeomen, lawyers, and drunkards is what I call the Logical Men’s Society and I am sorely upset with you. It didn’t used to be this bad.”

“Matters were a bit much last night.” And he wished he could remember the details. Or had stayed later to fend off the nonsense, which he was now convinced had most certainly happened. Had it been Winderton’s doing? The young duke did as he pleased, and the image of Winderton full of himself and leaning against the bar rose in Ned’s mind. There had been something afoot and Ned had been so gone in self-pity, he’d missed it.

“I will talk to the gentlemen.” The first code of the Logical Men’s Society is that a member didn’t give the matrons any ammunition against them, and Mrs. Warbler was one of the ringleaders.

She was not one to be put off. “You had women in there and you caroused for hours into the morning. Why, I could barely sleep—”

She was interrupted by the sound of a pony cart. They both looked up the road and he almost swore under his breath. Clarissa Taylor was driving into the village.

Yes, the day could get worse.

She flashed him a bright smile and a wave of her hand. She looked fetching in her velvet cap and cape against the slight chill in the air.

Brazenly, Ned used her arrival to his advantage. “Mrs. Warbler, perhaps we should change the subject. Miss Taylor is here.” His tone implied that he was refusing the discussion because of his respect for the delicate sensibilities of his betrothed.

“I thank the good Lord you are finally doing your duty and marrying that poor girl,” Mrs. Warbler said through clenched teeth as she smiled and waved at Clarissa. Her frown returned when she looked at Ned. “About time, that’s what we all say.”

Once again he felt the disturbing twist in his gut. Especially when the matron said, “You are putting it off for two months, though? After all these years of making her wait, I say you should meet before the reverend once the banns are announced.”

“Well, it is not your decision to make.” He kept his voice low lest Clarissa overhear as she came closer to them.

“You would be surprised how much power we have,” Mrs. Warbler answered. “We matrons are tired of being nice. And you need to take your gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, in hand.” On that cryptic threat, she stepped forward to properly greet his intended.

He followed suit, much to Hippocrates’s regret. There was no avoiding addressing Clarissa’s arrival. The horse gave a withering sigh as Ned greeted his intended with, “You appear in good spirits.”

“I am, sir.” She looked to Mrs. Warbler. “Good morning, even though it is almost luncheon.” She laughed at her small joke. “I came to collect the needlepoint cushion you wished me to finish.”

“And I shall gather it for you. However, at this moment I have more important business at hand. I don’t want Mr. Thurlowe to brush aside my complaint.”

“Mrs. Warbler—” he started.

“What complaint?” Miss Taylor asked, interrupting him. Ned wished he had pretended he hadn’t heard Mrs. Warbler’s calling him. Why, he and Hippocrates could have tracked down Summerall by now.

“They have been having nothing short of Sodom and Gomorrah in The Garland.” Mrs. Warbler’s voice rang in the morning air.

“What?” Clarissa asked in surprise.

“She is being dramatic,” Ned answered, his voice as firm with complacency as he could make it. “Some of the lads were rowdy last night.” He didn’t include himself, and he prayed Mrs. Warbler didn’t say anything about his presence.

As if reading his mind, the old lady gave him a grim smile. “The ale and gin were flowing freely—”

“We don’t serve gin at The Garland.” He stepped between the two women, his back to Clarissa. With a hard look, he said to the matron, “I’m sorry your peace was disturbed. You are right when you say the lads may have been carried away. I will talk to them and I will hire Cora and Sarah Belks to clean the place up.”

“Cora and Sarah Belks? You would be a fool if you hired them. They were part of the goings-on last night and they looked as if they’d had a right good time when they left in the very wee hours of the morning counting their money.”

“Counting their money . . . ?” Clarissa repeated, sounding confused. She truly was a lamb in this world.

“Oh, yes, those girls did very well for themselves—”

“Mrs. Warbler, there is no call to be crude,” Ned warned. “Especially in front of Miss Taylor.” God, he sounded like a prude.

“I’m not the crude one, sir. You should look to your members for that trait.”

She was right. When he saw the lads, he was going to take them down a peg. And if his suspicions about Winderton were correct? How did one chastise a duke?

He swallowed his pride and addressed Mrs. Warbler. “I’m sorry for the disturbance. I will talk to everyone.”

She pointed a finger in his face. “You see that you do. We are not running a brothel in the center of this village.”

Clarissa made a shocked sound, her perfect mouth forming an “oh” of surprise, before she responded, “No, we are not.”

If this was London, everyone would be turning a blind eye. Not so in Maidenshop. “We aren’t.” And then he thought of Mrs. Estep’s complaints about the sheets. “The lads shouldn’t have become so rowdy,” he admitted.

Mrs. Warbler’s answer was a, “Hmmm,” as if she questioned his sincerity.

“I will see that it is all cleaned up.” An idea came to him. A wicked idea. He glanced at the still-closed tavern door and swallowed a smile. He needed to put his story out before Mrs. Estep could present hers. One could go a great distance with Mrs. Warbler and her network of gossiping biddies on his side. It was a diabolical plan but the Logical Men’s Society could not lose The Garland. Nor did he want to be remembered as the chairman whose inaction allowed the loss. He schooled his features into grave concern. “However, I have larger problems to address. We have a squatter in The Garland right now.”

Hot Books
» House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1)
» A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire
» From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1)
» A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime
» Deviant King (Royal Elite #1)
» Den of Vipers
» House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2)
» The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air #
» Sweet Temptation
» The Sweetest Oblivion (Made #1)
» Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels #6)
» Wreck & Ruin
» Steel Princess (Royal Elite #2)
» Twisted Hate (Twisted #3)
» The Play (Briar U Book 3)