Free Reluctant Bride by Joan Smith

busied himself holding the door for us, to obviate replying. While he ordered up his raw meat, Maisie and I settled on tastier fare. “No dead birds for me tonight,” I decided, running an eye down the long menu. “I shall begin with dead fish instead.”
    Maisie t’sked in annoyance, and ordered an exact replica of my own dinner, despite Sir Edmund’s remonstrances that what we both needed was a nice, rare piece of beefsteak. The only variation in our host’s repast was that he switched to wine from ale. He was careful to warn them how to sear his meat. The blood oozed just as he liked when he put his knife into it. By a careful rearrangement of the flower vase on our table, I was able to conceal this disgusting spectacle from my eyes. Over dinner, we outlined to Maisie what had occupied us earlier, and our lack of success.
    “Sir Edmund is going to visit criminal haunts tonight, to try to find the fence,” I explained.
    We did not dally over our meal. There was never a chance to dally over anything, with Blount forever pulling out his watch and urging us to eat up. Before I had finished scalding my interior by trying to drink the boiling coffee, Edmund was pushing back his chair, outlining that he must be off to the wrong side of town.
    “I must walk Mitzi now, and beg a scrap of meat from the kitchen for her.”
    “You cannot go out alone. It is nearly dark,” he informed me. “I'll have one of the inn boys walk her for you.”
    “There is time to walk her a block up and down the main street before dark. I am not likely to be accosted on the main street of Winchester.”
    “Very well, if you insist, I shall have to accompany you,” he told me, his hackles rising.
    “Don't be ridiculous. I always do this when we are traveling.”
    “You never took Mitzi away from home before,” Maisie pointed out, with hateful and unnecessary accuracy.
    I went upstairs to get Mitzi. My aunt had decided to remain in the private parlor while we walked the dog. She would finish her coffee at leisure, lucky aunt. Whom should I run into in the lobby but Colonel Fortescue! We greeted each other as long lost friends.
    “What a small world it is! Miss Braden—delightful to meet you again. I was wrong to accuse Fate of perversity, was I not?” The colonel was in evening clothes, looking criminally attractive. I felt the strongest urge to drag him into the parlor to meet Blount, to show him how a proper gentleman looked and behaved.
    “Colonel Fortescue! Did you get your watch back?” Glancing to his waistcoat, I saw by the chain he had. He was resourceful on top of all the rest.
    “Certainly I did. You heard of it at the inn in Devizes?”
    “Heard of it? Oh, you don’t know, Colonel! I too was robbed.” I outlined my ill-fated tale to him. He was hot in his sympathy. Somehow or other, he got hold of my hands, squeezed them tightly. “If only I had known! To think, I had the culprit right in my hands, and let him go. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
    “The best help you can give is to tell me where you found your watch. Did you meet the fellow as he got off the coach?”
    “I did. I arrived in advance of him.”
    “Was he not taken into custody?”
    “Alas, no! Had I had the least notion what a wretched fellow he is, I would have done it. But I felt sorry for the poor devil. Only a drifter. I arranged the business quietly with him, got my watch, and let him off with a warning.”
    “You are too soft-hearted.”
    “Foolishly kind, as it turns out. I feel as guilty as though I had robbed you of your diamonds myself. How can I assist you?”
    “You don’t happen to know where the scoundrel is headed?”
    “I only know he darted down the street as fast as his spindly legs would carry him. Probably had a customer waiting for your hot stones. I insist on helping you. I am yours to command, Miss Braden.” He stopped suddenly, striking his forehead with his fingers, rather like a salute. “Oh, dear. The