And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake - By Elizabeth Boyle Page 0,96

“Sir, I am to meet a gentleman here. Where might he be?”

The innkeeper bore a patient expression. Truly, in Henry’s estimation he was on par with Keen in his acting ability. “A gentleman, you say?”

“Yes, he said he would be waiting here for me,” she explained. “His coach and four are outside. Will you please summon him and let him know that Miss Dale is here.”

The man’s gaze narrowed. “A coach and four?”

“Yes, the one outside.”

Shaking his head, the innkeeper said, “The coach outside belongs to the inn. We let it out. Do you need a coach, miss?”

“No, I don’t need a coach,” she said. “The gentleman I was to meet was bringing his. Might he be summoned, please?”

Lord Henry leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and watched her with nothing less than awe. What a determined slip of muslin she was.

The innkeeper shook his head. “Miss, there is no one else about. Just you and his lordship.” He nodded toward Henry, who did his best to look mildly concerned—at least for her sake. Besides, everything was working perfectly. All the innkeeper had to do was explain—

She frowned at Lord Henry and leaned closer to the innkeeper so her query wasn’t so public.

Not that it wasn’t easy to hear.

“I am looking for a gentleman.” She leaned closer still. “Mr. Dishforth.”

“Mr. Dishforth?” He scratched his chin.

“Yes, a gentleman of some respectability. He was to meet me here.”

“Oh, that gentleman,” the innkeeper said, snapping his fingers. “I fear, miss, he left.”

“Left?”

“Yes, he already left. In a hurry, you might say.”

Miss Dale stepped back from the board. “But whyever would he have left?”

“I can’t say, miss. He was here and then he was gone.” The innkeeper shrugged, then picked up a tankard and began polishing it with a cloth.

Truly, Lord Henry felt guilty about this deception, but it was better this way. Certainly it had to be.

“He left?” she asked, then shook her head. “He can’t have left. He wouldn’t have left. You are mistaken.”

Of course she wasn’t going to believe that her loyal Dishforth would abandon her, so Lord Henry had taken the precaution of adding another player to this scene.

“Oh, aye, miss,” the lad by the fire piped up. “The grand gentleman left, oh, say, an hour ago. Mayhap two it was.”

“No, he wouldn’t have,” she told the boy, tears brimming up in her eyes. “He wouldn’t have left. Not without me.”

My dearest, beloved Miss Spooner. When we meet at the inn, we shall never be parted ever again.

And it was that very promise broken that left her wide blue eyes all undone with grief. Those tears also managed to unravel everything Henry had devised.

Because the lad by the fire was as stricken by them as if he had been the one abandoned. And so he improvised, if only to stop her crying—or so he later claimed, for he supposed his efforts would help the cause.

“He didn’t leave alone,” he told her. “He left with a woman. A right fancy one. He wasn’t the right one for you, miss. Not in the least.”

The room stilled. Completely and utterly. As if there wasn’t even a whiff of air in it. Not even the fire made a crackle. For there, in the middle of all this silence, was this grand bouncer, this unthinkable addition to Henry’s carefully wrought plans.

A grand herring of a fish tale that had one and all gaping—each for their own reasons.

And of course, it was Daphne who recovered first. “He left with a lady?”

“Yes,” the lad told her. “Oh, a beautiful, fancy lady.” He glanced over at Henry, as if expecting a nod of encouragement. And, not even waiting for that, he barreled on. “The lady, she wept when she arrived and found him here. Then the gentleman, a more handsome fellow you can’t imagine, he called her his ‘perfect love’ and begged for her hand in marriage. When she said ‘yes,’ he kissed her. Right here.” The boy pointed at his cheek. “Then she wept some more, and finally he summoned his driver and they left.” And if that wasn’t enough, he hastily added, “Oh, it was a grand sight to witness. The lady and gentleman so handsome and riding away in such a grand carriage. One fit for a king.”

Henry sank onto the nearest bench. For what could he do? Confess right now as she gaped dumbfounded at the lad and looked ready to faint? Tell her he’d lied and deceived her, if only to gain her