Free Lovers Forever by Shirlee Busbee Page A

features, she realized that she was unlikely to find her a sympathetic listener. The instant she declared that she was not Tom Darley’s “fancy piece,” she’d most likely be thrust out into the storm. Would it hurt so very much, for this one night, to pretend? To step momentarily into a ready-made identity? Just for tonight?
    While Tess stood there silently turning over her extremely limited options, the innkeeper’s wife said reluctantly, “I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to eat yet, and I’ll not have it said that Sally Darley, Mrs. Darley to you, is a mean-spirited woman. So if you hurry, you can help yourself to some bread and cheese on the table there before I send you out front to help my husband.” Glancing with disfavor at Tess’s damp state, she added, “But first get out of those clothes and into something more serviceable. Don’t dawdle, either! This may be your first night here at the Black Pig, but don’t expect to have an easy time of it.”
    Tess never knew whether it was the idea of food or the thought of being out of her wet, uncomfortable clothing that finally overcame her scruples, but she suddenly said, “I’m afraid that these are the only clothes I brought with me.” At Mrs. Darley’s expression of astonishment, she improvised hastily, “I, er, had to leave London rather quickly. There wasn’t time to, ah, pack.”
    Really looking at Tess for the first time, the other woman frowned. “To be sure,” she said slowly, “them ain’t the kind of clothes we see around here.” Mrs. Darley stared at her for so long, assessing the cut and fabric of her clothes, that Tess was certain her ruse was discovered. But suddenly making a decision, the older woman said curtly, “Come along with me. There’s a trunk with some old clothes our eldest daughter left behind when she got married this summer. Something in there is bound to fit you.”
    Gratefully, her fingers crossed against the sudden appearance of the real “fancy piece,” Tess followed her out of the kitchen down a cramped little hall, to an equally cramped little room. A narrow bed and small washstand were the only furnishings. Inside, Mrs. Darley pulled forth a battered black trunk from beneath the bed. She dug through it swiftly, saying as she tossed garments about, “This is to be your room while you stay with us.” She glanced sternly over her shoulder. “And I want to make it clear that I don’t want to find you entertaining any ‘gentlemen’ callers in here . What you and the gents do upstairs is your business, but I ain’t having that sort of goings on in my part of this establishment! No matter what Henry says about it being good for business!”
    It suddenly dawned on Tess that Mrs. Darley wasn’t normally an unkind person, but that the innkeeper’s wife thoroughly disapproved of her supposed profession. “Mrs. Darley,” Tess began softly, “I’m not really—” She stopped abruptly. How did she know she wasn’t precisely the kind of creature Mrs. Darley had intimated she was? She swallowed painfully. A dashing highflier kept by some town buck could be an answer to her identity that she hadn’t even considered!
    â€œI told you it don’t matter!” Mrs. Darley returned stiffly, turning around to face Tess. “Here,” she added, “this should fit you.” She thrust a worn, pale pink muslin gown into Tess’s hands. “Use whatever you like from the trunk, but don’t waste any time getting changed. You can find your way back to the kitchen.”
    Dazedly Tess stared at the door that shut firmly behind Mrs. Darley’s bulky figure. Was she doing the right thing? Deciding that she really didn’t have any choice, she stripped off the clinging habit and slipped into the old muslin gown. It was a little big, but the soft