How to Manage a Marquess (23 page)

Anne nodded and shepherded the boys inside. Nate waited until he heard the key turn in the lock, and then he hurried back downstairs. The room was dreadful, but there was nothing for it. They only had to get through the night, God willing. But if the rain continued or the bridge was actually washed out—

Worrying wouldn't bring the sun or fix the roads, so there was no point in considering all the dire possibilities. He would attend to the problem in front of him—a starving five-year-old boy.

Well, he was hungry, too.

He stepped back into the stench and noise of the taproom, packed cheek to jowl with drunken men, and threaded his way to the bar to tell Bauer what he required.

“I'll have Bessie here run it up as soon as I can get to it.” Bauer gave a harried nod toward a buxom barmaid currently flirting with a fellow who looked remarkably like a fat rodent.

He turned away so Trant, if he glanced his way, would see only the back of his head. “Might you attend to it at once?” He slipped Bauer an extra quid. “My wife and sons are rather hungry.”

Bauer dropped the coin into his pocket. “Right then. I suppose I could.”

Bauer went off to assemble the food Nate had requested. He hoped the man would be quick about it. He didn't like leaving Anne and the boys alone, especially with a rake like Trant around, and he certainly didn't like standing in this sea of loud, stinking, inebriated men. What if—

He felt a hand on his shoulder and then heard a damnably familiar voice say far too loudly, “If it isn't Haywood. What are you doing here, my friend?”

Bloody hell, here was one possibility he hadn't anticipated. He turned to find George Harmon, Banningly's half-brother whose place he'd taken at the blasted house party, standing in front of him with an empty mug.

From the look—and smell—of him, this wasn't the first mug he'd emptied.

Nate stepped away from the bar in case Bauer came back and mentioned his fictitious family.

“I might ask the same of you, George. I thought you were going to Brighton.”

“Ah, well, turns out I'd got the dates wrong. That mill's next month.”

“So you
could
have attended your brother's house party.”
And saved me from encountering Miss Davenport again.

He waited to feel angry.

All he felt was relief that George had
not
saved him.

“Oh, no. Banningly would have insisted I spend every bloody minute keeping Miss Davenport busy so her father and Eleanor—” George's brain finally caught up to his mouth and he coughed. “That is, my brother would not have let me go to the mill.”

“So I got saddled with the task of keeping Miss Davenport occupied.” May as well encourage George to think spending time with Anne had been a burden.

“Yes.” George clapped him on the back. “Let me buy you some ale and make it up to you.” He laughed. “Or did you flee the party early? I would have sworn the thing was supposed to last all week.”

He did not want to explain matters to George. There'd be no way to avoid mentioning Miss Davenport. And while he could probably get George to swear not to reveal the story, he knew the man was incapable of keeping anything to himself.

In any event, he didn't want to leave Anne and the boys alone any longer.

“Perhaps some other time. If you'll excuse me?” He stepped back to the bar to see if Bauer had his food ready.

Unfortunately, George followed him, so he leaned in, intending to lower his voice in the hopes George wouldn't hear.

He didn't have the opportunity to be discreet.

“I saw ye was busy, so I sent yer food up to yer wife and brats.” Bauer smirked. “The fellow drooling down Bessie's dress said he'd take it.”

God's blood! Trant would knock on the door and Anne would let the drunken blackguard in. She had only two young boys to defend her. Fury mixed with panic roared through him.

But even over the pounding in his ears, he heard George's voice.

“Wife? Brats?”

“Later, George.” He pushed past him and strode—well, ran—toward the stairs.

* * *

The room was very, very small and dingy. There was no place to sit except . . .

Anne looked at the bed and then sat down gingerly.

It didn't collapse. It was just as uncomfortable as it looked, but apparently it would hold her weight.

And the boys' weight. They sat on either side of her.

And Nate's—

She flushed. She could not think about Lord Haywood and beds.

“I'm hungry, Miss Anne,” Edward said, leaning against her.

“I'm sure Lord Haywood will be back soon.” She should have made note of the time he'd left. The hands of the clock always seemed to move unnaturally slowly when one was waiting for something.

“I don't like this room,” Stephen said.

“I don't like it either, Stephen, but at least it's dry”—relatively. She was very much afraid the sheets would prove damp—“and safe.” Again, relatively. She tightened her fingers around the key. She would be very happy when Lord Haywood returned, and not just for the food he'd bring.

Her stomach growled, setting the boys to giggling.

Well, yes, she was hungry, too. She wasn't expecting a feast from a place like this, but she sincerely hoped the food was edible.

And then they heard the latch rattle.

“It's Uncle Nate!” Edward jumped off the bed and ran the two steps to the door. “Let him in quick, Miss Anne, before I starve to death.”

“I don't really think you'll starve so quickly, Edward,” Anne said, laughing as she turned the key. “It's a good thing—oh!”

It wasn't Nate—it was a large, hairy, toothy man who reeked of ale and sweat.

“You've mistaken the room, sir.” She started to close the door.

He shoved it back open and stepped into the small space. “Oh, no, I haven't. I came looking for Haywood's whore, and I found her.” He looked her up and down in a very insulting fashion as he shut the door behind him. “You're pretty enough, I suppose, in an insipid sort of way.” Then he grinned as she imagined a fox might grin at a chicken before he sank his teeth into it. “Perhaps you're more exciting with your skirts up around your ears.”

She took a step back. No one had ever spoken to her like this before. “Sir, you are offensive!”

“Oh, I'm going to be a lot more than that, sweetkin. Now we can either do this on that bed or against the wall.”

Her stomach twisted. “There are children present!”
This cannot be happening. Where is Nate?

The man sneered. “They can close their eyes if they don't want to watch.” He reached for her, but Stephen jumped between them.

“Don't you hurt Miss Anne.”

The blackguard raised his hand as if to hit the boy. “Out of my way, bantling.”

“Stop!” Anne pulled Stephen back—just as Edward launched himself at the villain, head-butting him in the crotch.

“Well done, Edward!” Stephen said.

The dastard howled and flung Edward across the room. The boy landed on the hearth.

“You
beast
!” Anne crouched down to touch Edward gently on the shoulder. “Are you all right, dear?”

He managed to nod through his tears, and then his eyes widened. “Miss Anne! He's coming!”

Lord! She had to protect the boys, but how could she—ah! Her frantic eyes landed on the fireplace poker. She grabbed it and whirled to face her attacker.

“Don't come a step closer, sirrah, or you will be very sorry,” she said, brandishing the metal rod.

He laughed and then motioned her toward him with both his hands. “Come on. Fight me. It will just make winning that much sweeter.” He grinned, looking more like a wolf than a fox now. “I like things rough, don't you know.”

That did not surprise her in the least. She gripped the poker more tightly. “I am Baron Davenport's daughter, sir, and these children are Viscount Banningly's nephews. Things will go very badly for you if you injure any of us.”

“That's rich! And I'm Prinny himself.” He started to unbutton his fall.

Her only choice now was whether to hit the man in the head or the stomach.

She held the poker in both hands and ran straight at him.

The small space and the unexpectedness of her attack worked to her advantage. She made contact, but he'd moved at the last moment so she managed only a glancing blow. Then he grabbed her weapon and twisted it out of her hands before she could try again.

She'd just succeeded in making him meaner.

“You'll be sorry you did that, girl. I'm going to—”

Fortunately, they did not hear what unpleasantness the devil had in mind, because right then the door flew open and Nate appeared. He grabbed the man's shoulder, spinning him around so his face collided with Nate's fist.

“Oh, thank God,” Anne murmured. And then, when Nate pulled back his arm to land another blow, “Lord Haywood, remember the children!”

“Don't mind us, Uncle Nate,” Stephen said. “Go ahead.”

“Yes. Hit him again, Uncle Nate,” Edward said. “He's a bad man.”

Everyone—and they seemed to have amassed a sizeable audience—held their breath. Anne had never seen an expression as chilling as Nate's. He looked as if he was contemplating murder.

The blackguard must have thought so, too. He made a small, whimpering noise and—

“Eew,” Edward said. “He peed the floor.”

Nate let go of the dastard, who stumbled back, collided with the wall, and slid down to crouch by the puddle he'd made. His nose was bleeding—it looked a bit askew, as if it might be broken.

“Get out, Trant.” Nate's voice was as chilling as his expression. “If I
ever
see you again, you're a dead man.”

Trant didn't argue. He scrambled to his feet, pushed past the crowd, and ran as fast as he could down the corridor.

Nate looked at a scantily clad woman who must work as a barmaid. “See that this mess gets cleaned up.” He pointed to the puddle the blackguard had left behind and the food spilled all over the floor.

“I'll get a mop, sir. Er . . .” Her eyes slid over to Anne. “That is, milord.”

Nate ignored her to glare at the rest of their audience. “Haven't you all something better to do?”

“Yes, milord.”

“Right. I'm off.”

“Got some ale to drink.”

In a few moments, everyone was gone but Nate—and another man who was staring at her and the boys.

“Good God, it's Miss Davenport and Eleanor's sons.”

“Hullo, Uncle George,” Stephen and Edward said together.

Ah, right. George Harmon, Mrs. Eaton's brother. She'd met him at the last Banningly house party.

The barmaid came back with a mop, and, once she'd cleaned up, Nate gave her some coins.

“Since someone trampled the food Mr. Trant brought up earlier, can you—”

“I'll go,” Mr. Harmon said. “Be back in a trice.”

Nate nodded. As soon as the woman and Mr. Harmon left, he closed the door. He no longer looked angry, but his expression was still tense.

“Are you all right, Anne? Boys? That—” He took a calming breath. “That man didn't hurt you?”

“I'm fine,” Anne said. “And Stephen is, too. Edward is the one who got hurt.”

“I'm all right,” Edward said. “Just my bottom is sore.”

“Both the boys were very brave, Lord Haywood.” Anne put an arm around each of them.

“I butted him in the doodle, Uncle Nate.”

“How did you think to do that, Edward?” Stephen asked, clearly impressed.

“I saw Mama do it to Papa when he was being mean.” Edward shrugged. “She used her knee, though.”

“I didn't know you remembered Papa.”

“I don't. At least not much.” Edward bit his lip. “He wasn't a nice man, either.”

Perhaps it was fortunate that Mr. Harmon reappeared then, bearing a large tray of food. “I say, there's not much space here, is there?”

“Just put it on the floor, George.” Nate sighed. “We'll have to eat there.”

Apparently Mr. Harmon had decided to join them, because after he put the tray down, he sat down as well.

Once they'd filled their plates, he bowed slightly, which was quite ridiculous seeing as they were sitting on the floor like children—well,
with
children. “Miss Davenport, I believe we both attended my brother Banningly's last gathering.”

“Yes, Mr. Harmon, I believe we did.” Anne turned to look at Edward and Stephen. “Do you have enough food, boys?”

They nodded, their mouths being full.

Mr. Harmon cleared his throat. She glanced at Nate, who was staring morosely at the chicken leg before him, and then looked back at Mr. Harmon inquiringly.

He cleared his throat again. “Er, perhaps you might explain what you and Lord Haywood are doing here with Eleanor's sons?”

Edward had managed to clear his mouth. “Mama married Miss Anne's Papa, Uncle George, so now she's our stepsister.”