The woman at the fireplace gasped and dropped the poker as the innkeeper gritted his teeth and swallowed hard.
“Your pardon, my lord.” Nodding to Evan, he stepped around the counter and snapped his fingers to the barmaid. “Stoke the fire in the sitting room, and make sure the linens in the courtyard rooms aren’t damp.” He bowed again to Evan. “I do regret my tone, my lord. Anything you need, please just ask.”
“What I would like is some milk, warmed up and waiting in that sitting room as soon as possible.”
The innkeeper’s brows rose, but he nodded.
Shand stepped back, his mouth a straight line, and when the innkeeper wasn’t looking, he gave Evan a quick wink. “Shall I bring Her Ladyship inside, my lord?”
“I’ll see to it.”
The child had awakened once more and was now shouting down the innyard. Evan hurried Diana and the maid into the taproom and, following the innkeeper, ushered them through a heavy curtain into a private sitting room. The baby fussed and squirmed against his little mother’s cloak.
The parlor was comfortable enough, with a fire spilling light and heat into the room. Shand passed behind them on his way up the stairs with their bags, his eyes full of questions about the infant.
Diana tapped Shand on the shoulder. “I’ll take that one, thank you. And thank you for driving the baggage cart and for carrying things for us.”
Shand bobbed his head, handing over the small case, his eyes still full of inquiries he wasn’t daring to make. “Hope the little fellow’s all right.”
“He will be once his tummy is full, I hope.”
Evan went to the parlor window, watching the stable yard where the coachman directed the hostlers. He’d much rather be out there seeing to the horses, or having a crack with Shand in the taproom, than playing “earl” in this private room. How much did a night at a place like this cost? Then he remembered the money. Diana’s inheritance, which now belonged to him. The inheritance no one had seen fit to tell him about before it was too late. He could afford to buy this inn several times over and not make even a dent in his bank balance.
He still couldn’t fathom it.
His breath frosted the pane, and he turned back to the room. Diana held the baby against her traveling cloak while the maid filled a boat-shaped glass bottle from the copper pan of milk set close to the fire.
To his surprise, when the bottle was ready, Diana took it, seating herself before the fire and cradling the baby. Careful to keep the open filling spout uppermost, she put the narrow end of the glass bottle to the baby’s lips.
A few drops of milk hit his tongue, and suddenly there was blessed quiet. Evan exhaled. The baby made slurping, gurgling noises, but the crying ceased.
But why hadn’t the maid taken the baby to feed him? He was her son, after all. It still baffled him why she wasn’t suckling him, but he was in no position to ask. At any rate, at least the infant wasn’t squalling the place to rubble.
The innkeeper tapped on the doorjamb, easing the curtain aside. “I made some tea for the lady. Would my lord care for some mulled wine or some brandy? Or I could fetch you some ale.” He bore a tray laden with tea paraphernalia. When he spied the baby, he paused, but then he set the tray on the low table beside Diana.
“Tea will be fine. Bring three more cups.”
“Three, sir? Are you expecting guests?”
Evan stilled. He’d been counting Shand and the maid in the mix—what was the girl’s name? That wasn’t the done thing, he supposed. Still, he was tired of the “done thing” already, and he needed to have a conversation with Shand. Followed by one with Diana.
“Just bring the cups, please.”
“Very good, sir.”
The baby ate as if he hadn’t seen food in a week, and Diana certainly acted as if this wasn’t her first time feeding him. Evan felt surplus to requirements, but he had nowhere else to go at the moment.
“Please tell me your name.”
The maid stopped rummaging around in the little case she’d taken the bottle from, and bobbed a quick curtsy. “Beth, my lord.” She didn’t meet his eyes, instead pulling things out of the box and folding them into neat little stacks.
It appeared that the tiny clothing had been crammed into the case in a hurry and would need some sorting. The little chap sure had a lot of garments for the son of a ladies’ maid. Evan sensed Diana’s generosity here.
“Beth, when your baby is done eating, perhaps you will take him upstairs. I’ll see that some food is sent up for you. I’m sure you have things to see to with your mistress’s belongings.” That was what ladies’ maids did, right? Function as a sort of batman or valet, but for girls?
The innkeeper hurried into the room with another teapot and three cups on a tray. “I’ve shown your valet to your rooms. At the top of the stairs on the left, my lord.” And he was gone.
“Beth, pour yourself some tea, and try to get warm. It was a cold ride.” She was barely more than a child herself. Fifteen or sixteen by the look of her. How had she come to be in her current situation?
Shand returned, and Evan went into the passageway with him. “I need you to sleep in the stable and keep an eye on the horses tonight.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Evan grimaced. “I know it’s right and proper and all that, but I do wish that when we are in private, you would just call me sir, like we did when we were both soldiers and happy to be so.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do appreciate you stepping in back there with the innkeeper.”
Rubbing his chin, Shand studied him. “But you’re a proper lord now, and it wouldn’t be right, me calling you anything else. And you won’t get used to it if I don’t.”
“I don’t want to get used to it. I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s skin, and it doesn’t fit.”
Shand sent him a pull-yourself-together-and-get-on-with-it look, with which Evan was very familiar from their campaigning days.
“My lord, what about the child? Where did he come from?”
“A basket.”
“My lord?”
Shand really wasn’t going to let the “my lord” address go. Evan sighed. “He’s the by-blow child of the maid. It appears my wife has a tender heart when it comes to turning out a young girl and her infant. It also appears she has a way of keeping secrets from me until they spring out of the underbrush like a French ambush.”
The sergeant rubbed his finger across his lower lip and contemplated Evan.
“What?”
“I am no expert, but it would seem to me that there will be many things you will need to learn about your new wife. You have only known her a fortnight. I am sure she’ll be discovering new things about you too.”
A heavy feeling invaded Evan’s chest. While he recognized the wisdom of Shand’s words, he knew he was as much to blame for keeping secrets as his bride. Hers had come out, but his remained buried—and would need to continue to be kept, else he would find himself hauled off to the asylum. The nightmares, the cold sweats, the jumping at sudden noises, the headaches … none of those had abated, and in some cases were growing worse. And he still couldn’t remember the day he was injured. The day that had ultimately brought him right to this spot. Until he sorted himself out, he would need to keep that part of himself hidden.