Free The Ruin Of A Rogue by Miranda Neville Page B

shrill quarrel of a pair of maids cut through the cries of ostlers, the impatient snorts of horses, the purposeful chatter of travelers. Never having visited a London inn, Anne looked around her with interest, forgetting her supposed scorn for unwashed humanity. When a young man in a smart curricle eyed her with curiosity, she remembered that she wanted word of her outing to reach the ears of the ton . She smiled at him and he tipped her hat. Perhaps he genuinely admired her new bonnet.
    “Let’s go inside,” Lithgow said, guiding her by the elbow.
    S o much for Marcus’s hopes of whispered compliments and slightly warm jokes in front of statues of naked Romans. There was something about the contents of the Leverian collection that dampened dalliance.
    He decided to hire a private parlor, another drain on his purse but it couldn’t be helped. In the public coffee room there was too much risk of her being recognized. By the time the wrath of Lord Morrissey descended on him, Miss Brotherton must be so enamored that she would be prepared to defy Morrissey and demand consent to marry the unsuitable Lord Lithgow. Things hadn’t gone nearly far enough.
    She proved a little petulant. “I want to watch the people.”
    “They smell,” he said firmly, and led her into the small parlor.
    A fire lent cheer to the dim chamber, and a waiter appeared promptly.
    “Tea for the lady,” Marcus said.
    “And for my maid too.” She smiled at the shivering Maldon. “Sit by the fire, Maldon.” At least she was kind to her servant.
    “Are you hungry?” he asked, positioning a chair for her. “Biscuits or cake, perhaps?”
    “Both, and some bread and butter,” she said. “Be quick about it,” she ordered the waiter.
    By the time the waiter returned, she’d removed her mantle and gloves and was seated at the table, across from Marcus. She looked over the plate of confectionery and wrinkled her nose.
    “I find I’m ready for something more substantial.”
    “We have a good steak-and-kidney pudding,” the waiter suggested.
    “Just the thing. And a slice or two of ham. And cold beef. And some cheese.”
    “Might I also recommend an apple tart with cream?” The waiter scented a large bill and a fat tip.
    She clasped her hands with a girlish giggle. “Perfect.” Marcus thought of the tally and gulped down a draft of ale. Her eyes lit on the tankard and narrowed. “I find I’m not in the mood for tea, after all. I’d prefer a glass of wine.”
    “We have an excellent Chambertin, miss.”
    “My grandfather’s favorite wine!”
    And one of the priciest vintages in the cellar, Marcus silently wagered, sure that in this case he’d win the bet.
    “Right away, madam,” the servant replied.
    “And some braised mushrooms. And buttered carrots.” She smiled at Marcus, innocent as a lamb. “My governess always made me eat my vegetables.”
    “We wouldn’t want to endanger your health.” He forced a smile and hoped he had enough money.
    When the meal was delivered by a team of inn servants, Miss Brotherton wasn’t rude. She simply behaved as though they didn’t exist and the numerous dishes had appeared by magic, as was her right. Marcus poured wine for them both—if he was going to pay for it he might as well enjoy it—and raised his glass. “To a most enjoyable day and an excellent dinner. May it be the first of many.”
    She prodded her plate with a fork. “I believe the beef is overcooked.”
    He’d had enough. The girl who had touched his steely heart had vanished, and he doubted she’d ever existed. How could he have mistaken her character so badly? Disappointment was capped by fear that his ability to judge a person had disappeared along with his luck. If that was so he really was in trouble.
    There was more than one reason to accelerate the pace of his wooing, but the one that exercised him at present was the desire to get the better of this spoiled brat. With any luck he’d be offered the bribe to leave