The Viscount's Kiss by Margaret Moore

woman took that for additional confirmation of her suspicions.
    The innkeeper’s wife fixed her with a worldly-wise eye. “And then, I saw him leaving your room.”
    That wasn’t so easy to explain. Nevertheless, she tried. “He merely wished to ascertain if I had been able to sleep despite the accident.”
    â€œYou’re a smooth one, I must say,” Mrs. Jenkins replied with a wry shake of her capped head as she wrestled the featherbed back into place. “But there’s no need to lie to me. I don’t blame you a bit, even if others might. Why, if I was twenty years younger and unmarried, I’d be the first to…”
    She cleared her throat and her broad cheeks pinked. “Well, I’m not, so never mind. I just wanted to say this before you go. He’s a good man, and a kind one, so I hope you won’t break his heart.”
    â€œI am in no position to do so,” Nell firmly assured her, “nor will I ever be and I say again that he came to my room only to ascertain if I was all right.”
    â€œHave it your own way then,” Mrs. Jenkins replied, clearly still not believing her explanation.
    This situation was getting worse and worse, Nell thought with dismay. She was a decent, respectable young woman—or had been until six days ago. Now she could be branded a thief and immoral into the bargain, especially if Lord Bromwell paid for her accommodation.
    On the other hand, Lord Sturmpole would never suspect the woman he was chasing was the same woman others believed to be the mistress of the famous Lord Bromwell.
    â€œHave you informed Lord Bromwell of your conclusion?” she asked.
    â€œIf it was anybody else,” the innkeeper’s wife replied, “I’d have thrown them out the minute I realized what was goin’ on. Jenkins and I run a respectable inn, we do.”
    So she had kept her suspicions to herself, which was a relief. “Thank you for your kindness and discretion,” Nell said. “Lord Bromwell and I are most grateful, especially if you’ll continue to keep our secret.”
    â€œWorried about losing sponsors for his next expedition if word gets out, is he?” Mrs. Jenkins asked with triumphant satisfaction.
    Nell hadn’t known the viscount intended to sail again, but she hid her surprise and nodded, for a scandal would surely hamper such efforts despite his previous success.
    â€œWell, my dear, you can count on me. But mind what I said about breaking his heart, or you’ll have me to reckon with!”
    â€œI shall,” Nell promised, even as she noted the goodwoman didn’t seem to care about the state of her heart. Perhaps Mrs. Jenkins considered her simply mercenary, with no heart to break. “Do you know where Lord Bromwell is now?”
    â€œIn the stables, I think, probably looking for another spider.”
    Nell suppressed a shiver as she hurried from the room.
    Â 
    It didn’t take her long to find Lord Bromwell. He was standing by the stables, talking to one of the grooms.
    He still wore no hat, and his hair ruffled slightly in the breeze. He also had on dark trousers, white shirt, light green vest and the same shining boots and well-fitting gloves. He leaned his weight casually on one leg, and she could hear him laughing.
    His laugh was as nice as the rest of him.
    She hoped he never found out the truth about her. That way, he might remember her with affection, as she would certainly remember him.
    Before she could catch his attention, a large black coach with an ornate coat of arms on the lacquered door came barrelling into the yard. The driver, dressed in scarlet and gold livery, shouted and pulled on the reins with all his might to stop the coach, while the footmen at the back held on for dear life as it came to a rocking halt.
    No one in the inn’s yard moved—not even the dogs—or spoke as one of the livered footmen leapt down, staggering a bit as he went