Free Once an Innocent by Elizabeth Boyce Page A

A coachman in dusty livery argued animatedly with one of the stable boys. Despite the driver’s theatrical gesticulations, the boy shook his head, refusing to capitulate to the older man.
    Abruptly, Jordan turned and swept a fierce scowl over his six men, these supposed agents of the British government, none of whom, if it were up to him, he would allow to wipe a baby’s bottom, much less entrust with European peace and security.
    “I want you — every one of you — to think about why we are here and what we’re about. Spend a moment of introspection and consider your loyalties.”
    John Bates raised a skeptical brow. Jordan restrained the urge to wipe the smirk off the man’s face. Instead, he circled the table at a slow, stalking pace. “An acquaintance of ours has given us a task,” he said tersely. “It is our job to fulfill that task. Period.” His eyes narrowed on Lord Gray. “It is not our job to take the ladies to outings at caves.” A stony glare for Solomon Perry. “Nor is it our job to torment one another with idiotic pranks.” Mr. Perry ducked his head, abashed. “My loyalty lies with king and country, gentlemen. What say you?”
    “King and country.” Percy Young lifted his tankard.
    John Bates’s tankard joined Percy’s. “To king and country.”
    A muttered chorus echoed the sentiment. Lord Gray lifted his drink reluctantly and only after his lips pinched together while he seemed to weigh the merit of continuing the quarrel.
    Jordan lifted his own glass. “To king and country.” After the men had all joined in the toast, the tension in the air eased somewhat. Jordan returned to his seat and lifted a quill to resume the discussion of the upcoming operation. But before he could, a sharp rapping sounded from downstairs, followed by an irate, female voice. Only a few words were intelligible.
    “ … not my concern … mean to say …
ladies
, no less!”
    A smile tugged Jordan’s lips. “Don’t move,” he told his men. He went down the stairs, turning so his broad shoulders could pass through the narrow space.
    In the common room, he saw just what he’d expected. Lady Janine Lockwood was in high dudgeon, giving the innkeeper what for. She punctuated her tirade with an occasional strike of her parasol handle against the polished expanse of countertop separating her from the harangued landlord. “ — Don’t think you quite comprehend who my nephew is, you imbecilic nitwit!”
Thwack!
    Naomi stood to the side, watching her aunt’s diatribe with an expression of horror and mortification. Her face was stained pink all the way from the bit of neck visible above her melon traveling costume to where her forehead vanished beneath the brim of her fashionable bonnet.
    In spite of her obvious discomfiture, Jordan once again thought her utterly enchanting. He put a hand on the wall to halt himself; the strength of this newfound attraction to Naomi unnerved him. She hadn’t spotted him yet, and he greedily took advantage of being unnoticed to drink her in.
    “My — my lady,” the innkeeper ventured, “I most certainly do know who your esteemed nephew is. It is most regrettable that I do not have a room available to offer you and your niece, but I am filled to capacity with — ”
    “A traveling party,” Janine snapped. “So you said already, you redundant oaf.”
    Naomi winced at this last exclamation from her older relative. “Auntie, please,” she murmured. Placing a hand on her aunt’s elbow, Naomi attempted to draw her toward the door. “There will be another inn soon enough. There’s still plenty of daylight to travel by.”
    Lady Janine ignored her niece’s gentle persuasions. “What is the world coming to?” She gestured widely with the parasol; the innkeeper ducked behind the counter to avoid being clubbed. “When two ladies of quality are refused accommodation, society must surely be in sad decline. Sir, I would remind you of the fate that befalls all great civilizations