“Aye,” Mr. Oaks said, returning his attention to James. “I’d say they stopped for a change of horses ’round three.”
Happy to know they were gaining on Michael and Cynthia to some degree, James nodded his appreciation. Hopefully, an early start in the morning would help them catch up. “I trust the rooms are that way?”
“Straight up the stairs and to your left,” Mr. Oaks said.
“Thank you.” James started turning away.
“And Madam?” Mr. Oaks said, his eyes once again fixed on Mrs. Lawson. “There’s no Mrs. Oaks. In case you was wonderin’.”
“I can assure you I was not,” Mrs. Lawson replied.
“Pity,” Mr. Oaks drawled. “It’s not every day a woman as lovely as you stops by.”
“If you don’t mind,” James told the impertinent innkeeper tersely, “my sister never said she wasn’t married, merely that she’s not married to me.”
“In that case I do beg your pardon.” Mr. Oaks smiled with humor in his eyes. “I’ll leave you to go and get settled.”
James waited for Mrs. Lawson to precede him, then sent Mr. Oaks one last scowl before following her up the stairs. They reached the landing and quickly located their rooms. Both were small but at least they looked clean.
James set her bag on the only chair her room offered. “Wait for me before going back downstairs. I don’t trust Mr. Oaks not to try something with you.”
She gave him a hard stare. “Neither do I.”
James blinked. The certainty with which she spoke suggested she knew how brutal men could be from experience. He shook himself as the unpleasant thought of her having fought off such a man in the past invaded his mind.
Stepping back before he pressed her for answers, he said, “I’ll knock on your door in ten minutes. Is that enough time for you to freshen up?”
“It’s fine.”
When she started opening her bag, James left and entered his own room. He shut the door and leaned against it with a hard sigh. There were traces of Mrs. Lawson’s past in her expressions and the things she said. Earlier today, when she’d mentioned her husband, her face had lit up with fondness before she’d managed to school her features and change the subject. It didn’t make any sense. If she’d loved Mr. Hewitt, as James was inclined to believe she might have, then why had she taken lovers?
Because Mr. Hewitt had failed to reciprocate her affection and had engaged in his own trysts?
James scrubbed his hand across his face and dropped his bag on the floor. The person Mrs. Lawson had been revealed to be two years earlier didn’t square with the hardworking woman he’d just spent the day with. She’d been principled – had insisted on covering her share of the expenses for heaven’s sake.
Straightening, James removed his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt. He filled the ceramic basin that stood on a table near the window, and wrung out a wash cloth. The cool water soothed the ache he’d sustained to his muscles by shoveling dirt. Sitting inside a carriage most of the day had only made him sorer.
He ran the cloth over the back of his neck, then over his chest and arms. An unexpected vision of Mrs. Lawson seeing to her own ablutions beyond the wall to his right sneaked into his head. Stomach tight, he glanced in the direction of her room and muttered a curse. He did not want to find her desirable any more than he wanted Mr. Oaks to do so. And yet, in spite of her representing everything he despised, he still wanted her in ways he knew were unseemly.
It couldn’t be helped. His body obviously didn’t agree with his brain where she was concerned. And damn it all but there was a niggling feeling that he’d somehow misjudged her. Or maybe he was just trying to make excuses so he could engage in more than conversation with her. Would she even allow him to make an advance? They weren’t exactly on the best of terms, so there was a good chance she’d turn him away.
Considering the men who’d claimed to be her lovers and the lack of good looks they’d shared, he wasn’t sure he’d survive a rejection from her.
And why the hell was he even letting himself wonder about such things?
They were travel companions. That was all.
James dropped his washcloth into the basin, dried quickly, and found a clean shirt for himself in his bag. Once dressed, he went to knock on Mrs. Lawson’s door.
“One moment,” she called from within.
James waited. He crossed his arms, uncrossed them again, and studied each plank of wood in the hallway until his veins itched with impatience. He prepared to knock on her door yet again when it suddenly opened, bringing them face to face.
Gone was the bonnet she’d worn since he’d picked her up in the morning, allowing him an uninhibited view of her glorious hair. He’d seen it before of course, and yet he could not seem to stop staring. Her beauty was simply divine, made more so on account of the blush now flooding her cheeks.
“Mr. Dale?”
James quickly offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
So she was still irritated with him. James had to admit he would have been as well, had their roles been reversed. Perhaps it was time for an apology. “I’m sorry about earlier, Mrs. Lawson. I promised a truce and yet I still managed to be accusatory. It would mean a great deal if you could forgive me.”
She smiled and his heart sighed with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Dale. I actually enjoyed your company up until that point. It’s just difficult for me to pretend a friendship with someone who finds me as lacking as you clearly do.”
“You certainly know how to humble a man.” He offered his arm once more. “Again, my sincerest apologies. It isn’t my place to judge you.”
“That doesn’t mean you do not have an opinion.” She took his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the stairs. “I know it’s not a good one where I am concerned, but the nature of my marriage and the actions I chose to take within it don’t have to make me a terrible person. Could I not simply be a woman looking to find a bit of happiness for myself?”
James guided her down the stairs while puzzling through her question. Was it possible his opinion of her might be tainted by his own experience with Clara? The world did not approve of wives taking lovers yet barely spared one thought to a husband doing the same. Was that really just? And what business was it of his anyway if Mrs. Lawson had been unfaithful to Mr. Hewitt?
All he knew was the disappointment and disgust he’d felt as soon as he’d been made aware of her actions. But again, maybe that was Clara’s doing more than it was Mrs. Lawson’s. He honestly wasn’t sure anymore. What he did know was that Mrs. Lawson made him question the narrative he’d been fed about her. Which naturally increased his interest.
“Let’s order some food and talk about something else,” he suggested, not answering her question. “You can tell me about your hobbies.”
9
Seated at a table in the inn’s taproom, Wilhelmina sipped her beer and regarded the man opposite her. He wasn’t her friend, no matter how much they tried to pretend otherwise. And yet, here they were, ready to pretend exactly that.
“Are you sure getting to know me better is wise?”