The serving girl made a gesture which he took to mean rabbit. He smiled in response to her helpful theatrics and nodded. Rabbit would suit him well this evening.
The ale arrived soon enough along with a key to one of the bedrooms. Alessandro thanked the girl who brought it, took a sip of his ale, and sighed with satisfaction. If there was one thing the English excelled it, it was brewing. He downed some more and leaned back in his seat. Additional guests had arrived in the last few minutes, all of them seeking refuge as they shook off the cold and fell into conversation with each other.
Alessandro studied them. What else was there to do? Near the bar stood a group of three young men he might have engaged in conversation if he’d believed they spoke French or Italian. Judging from their appearances, however, he seriously doubted they did.
At the tables were other travelers – an elderly couple, parents with two small children, and what appeared to be a father and daughter or possibly husband and wife. There were other groups of men in between, some eating while others played cards.
The rabbit arrived, diced with vegetables in a fragrant stew. Bread was offered with it and Alessandro took his first bite. Lovely. Not the best he’d ever had but perfectly suited to the chill climate. It heated his insides and made him feel more himself.
Satisfied though a little disheartened to miss Christmas Eve with his sister, brother–in–law, and their children, he chose to focus on his good fortune. He’d found a comfortable shelter for the night and his hunger had been appeased. Things could be worse.
A door on the far side of the taproom burst open, sending the flames in the hearth into a frenzy as frosty air swept past his shoulders. A young lady entered, clad in an ermine trimmed cloak and with her arms filled to the brim with pine. She was followed by an older matron–like figure who swiftly pulled the door shut to block out the cold.
The pair spoke with the innkeeper and a servant who’d rushed to give them assistance. The pine was handed over along with a basket the older woman carried. These were whisked away moments later, upon which the young lady pushed back her hood and swept her gaze across the room.
It was one of those moments, like when he’d first beheld the splendor of Rome’s Church of Saint Ignatius, where the ceiling appeared to offer a gateway to heaven. Here now was clearly one of the angels from the fresco, with rosy cheeks to match her lips and golden hair so radiant it had to be spun from sunshine.
Alessandro took a sharp breath and pushed back his chair. “Mademoiselle?”
Warm eyes focused upon him, forcing his heart into a faster rhythm. He gestured toward the vacant chairs at his table, the last the room had to offer.
“Parlez–vous français?” He asked when she and her companion had reached him.
The young lady nodded. “Je peux.” I can.
“Alors, je serais honoré si vous joignez à moi.” I would be honored if you would join me. He pulled out a chair and angled his head in invitation.
“Merci, Monsieur…”
“Rossi. Alessandro Rossi. From Naples, Italy.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said. Now that she was closer, he saw her eyes were green – the exact same shade as the leaves of the bougainvillea that climbed the terrace walls of his villa, with flecks of bronze near the center. Unusually rare and pretty. “I am Lady Beatrice, the Marquess of Thyburn’s sister, and this is my maid, Dorothea. She does not speak French.”
“Please. Have a seat.” Alessandro helped Lady Beatrice into her chair, then hurried around the table so he could assist Dorothea next. This earned him a smile from both ladies, as well as their thanks.
“I trust you are headed to Thyburn House?” he asked once he’d gestured for a serving girl to come and attend them. “My sister is the marchioness.”
“Good heavens.” Lady Beatrice beamed, her face aglow with the sort of pleasure a man could easily lose himself in for days. “Then we are family. How utterly delightful.”
She grinned, then proceeded to explain the situation to Dorothea, who clapped her hands together and said a bunch of things Alessandro had no hope of understanding. Before Lady Beatrice could translate, the serving girl arrived to take their order.
“Indeed,” Lady Beatrice said once the girl was gone, “we hoped to be at Thyburn House by now, but when the weather worsened, our coachman wisely suggested we stop for the night.”
“It is better to be safe than to risk an accident on the road,” Alessandro said. “And from what I gather based on the information my sister provided, Thyburn House is still a two–hour ride away.”
“You are correct, but I feel as though it is close compared with the distance already travelled, which I suppose is even more true for you considering how far you’ve come. Only to get stuck at an inn on Christmas Eve of all days.”
“I’ll admit it is disappointing, but at least I shan’t be completely alone now I have you for company.” When Lady Beatrice smiled, he added, “It is a blessing to encounter someone with whom I can have a conversation.”
The serving girl returned with wine for Lady Beatrice and Dorothea. A toast to the holiday season and newfound friendship followed.
“Please,” Lady Beatrice said, setting her glass aside, “enjoy your meal, Mr. Rossi, before it goes cold. You need not wait on our account.”
Alessandro appreciated the gesture but chose to refrain, since his upbringing would not permit him to eat until the ladies had also been served. Thankfully, their meals arrived only moments later, and they could all enjoy the savory stew.
“Forgive my curiosity, my lady,” Alessandro said after taking another sip of his ale, “but wherefrom do you travel?”
“From London. I…work there.”
“You…” He stared at her and finally shook his head, baffled. “How unusual. Especially for a lady in your position. I must confess, I don’t quite understand how such a thing is possible.”
She pursed her lips. “Only because you do not really know me yet. Truth is, I am very independently minded and stubborn, Mr. Rossi. But you may rest assured that my work is appropriate for a woman of my social standing. I run a number of charities, you see, with the aim of helping orphaned children, veteran soldiers, and the homeless.”
He’d been right then with his first assessment. She was an angel. “I’m impressed.”
“Truly?” Her eyes softened as though she’d not expected such a compliment. “Most gentlemen try to convince me to set my sights elsewhere, like on finding a husband and having children.”
“Surely the two need not be exclusive. I mean, if your husband were to support your goals, you ought to be able to manage both.”
Pleasure bloomed in the gentle curve of her lips. “It is my dream to do so, but since I am the Marquess of Thyburn’s sister, Society has expectations. It may not frown on charities provided they are run from the comfort of one’s study with other people taking care of the details. But you see, I like to be personally involved. I want to venture into the slums and find the poor souls who need me the most.”
He could see how this might pose a problem. “I trust you take armed footmen with you for safety?”
“Of course.” Her expression sobered. “I may want to help the less fortunate, but I’m not stupid or reckless, as evidenced by the fact that I am presently here instead of on the road.”