The Untamed Bride by Stephanie Laurens Page B

you.”
    Del turned back to the counter, brows rising.
    Reaching beneath it, Bowden produced two missives. “The first—this one—came on the mail coach nearly four weeks ago. The other was left last evening by a gentleman. He and another gentleman have looked in every day for the last week or so, asking after you.”
    Wolverstone’s escorts. “Thank you.” Del accepted the letters. It was midafternoon, and the inn’s public rooms were quiet. He sent an easy smile Bowden’s way. “If anyone should ask for me, I’ll be in the tap.”
    “Of course, sir. Nice and quiet it is in there at present. Just ring the bell on the bar if you need anything.”
    With a nod, Del sauntered into the dining room and through an archway into the tap, a cozy room toward the back of the inn. There were a few patrons, all older men, gathered about small tables. He went to a table in the corner where the light from the rear window would allow him to read.
    Sitting, he examined the two missives, then opened the one from the mystery gentleman.
    The lines within were few and to the point, informing him that Tony Blake, Viscount Torrington, and GervaseTregarth, Earl of Crowhurst, were holding themselves ready to escort him further on his mission. They were quartered nearby and would continue to call at the inn every evening to check for his arrival.
    Reassured that he would be moving forward, in action again soon, he refolded the letter, tucked it inside his coat, then, mildly intrigued, opened the second missive. He’d recognized the handwriting, and assumed his aunts had written to welcome him home, and to ask and be reassured that he was, indeed, heading up to Humberside, to the house at Middleton on the Wolds that he’d inherited from his father, and that remained their home.
    As he unfolded the two pages, crossed and recrossed in his elder aunt’s spidery script, he was already composing his reply—a brief note to let them know that he had landed and was on his way north, but that business dealings on the way might delay him for a week or so.
    Reading his aunt’s salutation, followed by an enthusiastic, even effusive, welcome, he smiled and read on.
    He wasn’t smiling by the time he reached the end of the first page. Laying it aside, he deciphered the rest, then tossed the second sheet on the first and quietly, but comprehensively, swore.
    After staring at the sheets for several minutes, he gathered them up, rose and, stuffing the sheets in his pocket, made his way back to the inn’s foyer.
    Bowden heard his footsteps and came out from his office behind the counter. “Yes, Colonel?”
    “I understand a young lady, a Miss Duncannon, was due to arrive here some weeks ago?”
    Bowden smiled brightly. “Yes, indeed, sir. I’d forgotten—she asked after you, too.”
    “Indeed. I take it she’s left and headed north?”
    “Oh, no, sir. Her ship was delayed, too. She didn’t get in until last week. Quite relieved, she was, to learn you’d been delayed, too. She’s still here, waiting on your arrival.”
    “Ah. I see.” Del suppressed a grimace and started makingplans. “Perhaps if you could send word to her room that I’ve arrived, and would appreciate a moment of her time?”
    Bowden shook his head. “No use at present—she’s out, and she’s taken her maid with her. But I can tell her as soon as she comes in.”
    Del nodded. “Thank you.” He hesitated, then asked, “Is there a private parlor I might hire?” Somewhere where he and his unexpected burden could discuss her onward journey.
    “I’m sorry, sir, but all our parlors are presently taken.” Bowden paused, then said, “But it’s Miss Duncannon herself as has the front parlor—perhaps, seeing she’s waiting to see you, you might wait for her in there?”
    “An excellent notion,” Del responded dryly. “And I’ll need to hire a carriage.”
    But again Bowden shook his head. “I’d like to oblige, Colonel, but this close to Christmas all our