She squeezed his arm. “Let us find a table and discuss our strategy before asking to speak with Jem.”
“Good idea.” At least then they wouldn’t be standing around looking out of place. They’d be sitting with tankards of ale to drink as they attempted not to appear out of place.
Georgie indicated a vacant table just a few feet away. He’d rather have found one closer to the door, but needs must and the bar was already pretty full. To call it an actual table was a misnomer. There were three chairs at the end of one long table. She took a chair where she could view the common room as did he. If there was going to be trouble, at least they’d know it was coming and from which direction. Barfleur sat in the chair facing them, and Gavin hailed the barmaid.
The young woman was pretty in a very English way with blond hair and a milk-white complexion that she clearly kept out of the sun. Instead of bringing attention to herself by swinging her hips or lowering her bodice, she walked sedately to them. “Good afternoon. What can I get you?”
Georgie smiled. “I would like a glass of cider if you have it.”
“We do, miss.” The barmaid glanced at him. “And the gentlemen?”
“I’d like a pint of ale—” He raised his brows in a question to Barfleur, who nodded then hung his head. “Make that two pints of ale.”
Georgie placed her hands on the table, clasping them together. “Mr. Barfleur, his lordship and I heard you mention a wager. What exactly did you wager and how much?”
The younger man flushed a deep red as he met her gaze. “I—we—well we said we’d supply enough fish for a meal.” When Georgie raised her brows, Barfleur continued, “We wagered a pony.”
She sucked in a breath. “And when you made the wager you thought you could win?”
“No.” He hung his head again. “I’ve never learned to fish. But I couldn’t let the others know.” Gavin thought a man couldn’t get any redder, yet Barfleur did. “My—my father tried to teach me, but he gave up. I’ve never even had a nibble.”
“I see.” Georgie reached across the table and patted the young man’s fisted hands.
How in the hell could any boy in England not learn how to fish? Even ladies fished.
Good God, Barfleur looked like he wanted to weep. “I didn’t dare tell them I didn’t know how. That would be worse than losing.”
“Yes, I am quite sure it would be. But this is your opportunity to do the right thing and learn to fish. I shall own myself surprised if Jem can’t teach you.”
A glimmer of hope entered Barfleur’s eyes. “Do you think he would? After I tried to steal his catch?”
“There is only one way to find out.” The barmaid brought their drinks, and Georgie said, “Will you please ask Jem to join us? We have a question for him.”
The woman met Georgie’s eyes with a steady gaze. “Does this have anything to do with someone trying to take his fish?”
From what Gavin could tell, she returned the look. “In a manner of speaking. Amends must be made to him.”
“I’ll get him.”
“Thank you.” Once the barmaid left, she spoke to Barfleur. “I suggest you offer him a crown for each fishing lesson.”
“I say, that’s a great deal of money,” Barfleur protested.
“It is a great deal less than being arrested and paying for a solicitor and barrister.”
The man dropped his head in his hands. “I can’t believe how stupid I was.”
Gavin took a long draw of the excellent local ale. “I’d say I can’t believe how you discount anyone below you.”
Barfleur’s jaw tightened, and Gavin made a promise to himself that his children would never behave in a like manner. “This is more than me paying the boy, isn’t it? It’s to teach me a lesson.”
Before Gavin could answer Jem was standing next to them. “I heerd ye got a question for me.”
“Indeed we do.” Georgie raised her chin at Barfleur. “Sir?”
He closed his eyes and gave an imperceptible nod. “I’d like you to teach me how to fish. I’ve never learned.” He took a breath. “I’ll pay you a crown for each lesson.”
Jem rubbed his chin as he’d obviously seen an older man do. “A crown for as long as I’m normally out. Any time after that’ll be a half-crown extra.”
Gavin was pleased to see Barfleur wasn’t going to argue. “Very well. When do we start?”
“Tomorrow mornin’ at six. Meet me where I was today.”
“I’ll see you then.” Barfleur held out his hand and Jem took it.
“Wear somethin’ you can fish in.”
Gavin almost went into whoops watching Jem saunter back to his seat at the bar. “That went well.” He finished his ale. “Are you ready to return to the Turners’?”
“Yes.” Barfleur stood and glanced at Georgie. “Thank you.”
“I look forward to eating the fish you will catch.” Gavin would have had a hard time not gloating, but she was sincere.
They made their way outside and asked for the curricle to be brought around.
“If you don’t mind,” Barfleur said. “I think I’ll walk.”
“Not at all.” That would give Gavin an opportunity to tell Georgie how brilliant her idea had been. It astonished him once again how much he was still learning about her.
A little voice in his head nagged at him telling him to give her what she wanted, but he could not. Although, he’d yet to even mention friendship and passion to her. He thought today would be the perfect time to press his suit, but the Fates had other plans. He had to do it soon.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Georgie watched as Mr. Barfleur strolled down the street. His step seemed lighter than before, and she was glad. She had no idea how old he was, but he really wasn’t up to snuff. Someone should take him under their wing. Once she returned to Town, she’d ask her father if he could do it.
The curricle was brought out, and she held her breath as Turley lifted her into the carriage. Thank God for long stays. Yet, even with them, the heat of his hands caused her senses to scramble. Without a word, he climbed into the other side of the carriage and gave the horses their office.
They passed Mr. Barfleur and she waved. “That went well.”
“It did.” Turley slid her a smile. “Your idea was much better than anything I could have thought of.”
“Thank you.” A sense of pride filled her. It had been an excellent plan. “I just hope it works.”
“As do I,” he agreed. “I cannot imagine not knowing how to fish.”
“It is so consummately an English activity. We all learned to fish.” She did not think she had ever met anyone who did not know how to fish unless it was a servant raised in London, but even then... “I wonder if his father is one of those men who had little patience with children.”
“I suppose he could be.” Turley’s voice sounded thoughtful. “But if he couldn’t teach Barfleur, he could have got a groom or someone to do it.”
“I agree.” She recalled the terms of the wager and another thought came to mind. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. He will learn from one of the best. I do wonder though if anyone thought to tell Cook they were supplying the fish. I cannot imagine she is one who takes surprises in her kitchen well.”