Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,2

idea how to go about it. And by the time she had walked to Charing Cross and found the Golden Cross Inn, she felt unaccustomedly exhausted. Her legs and feet felt numb, and she wanted to cry.

It had never entered her head that Jeremey would not stand by her, would not believe her, would not even listen to her. He had simply dropped her like a burning coal without a second thought. This man she had meant to marry and live with for the rest of her life. The man who had made her such exquisite speeches of devotion.

What utter lies! And now my heart is broken along with the rest of my life…

The inn was heaving with people and vehicles. Close by, people were bundling into a coach laden with luggage. Others were climbing up on to the outside seats and onto the roof. Everyone around the yard seemed to be in a hurry, striding about purposefully, bearing boxes and trunks, leading horses, harnessing carts, or shouting instructions or ribald remarks she didn’t understand. Delicious cooking smells drifting out of the inn made her stomach rumble.

In the midst of the bustle sat a sleek, black cat, elegantly cleaning itself. Everyone, even men carrying heavy loads, who probably couldn’t even see the animal properly, walked around it. Oblivious, the cat carried on washing its face.

On what appeared to the taproom step, a man sat eating a pie with some gusto, until Juliet approached, and he jumped to his feet. The pie vanished into the pocket of his long coat, and he snatched off his slightly greasy-looking hat.

“Help you, ma’am? Head porter at your service. Let me carry your bag.”

“Thank you,” Juliet replied gratefully. “I wish to go to York, or at least as close to Kidfield as I can. Is there a coach today?”

The porter scratched his head, “No room on that one,” he said, nodding toward the laden coach, which was about to leave. “It’s the mail. But there may be space on the later stagecoach. It’s slower but does stop at Kidfield.”

“Oh, that would be ideal,” Juliet said in relief. “What time would that be?”

“Eleven o’clock. Let me see what I can—”

A sudden bark seemed to split Juliet’s ears, cutting the porter off. In the same instant, a huge, hairy creature bounded from nowhere across her line of vision, directly at the black cat she’d noticed earlier. People scattered in all directions, dropping loads and bumping into each other.

With an angry squeal, the cat sprang up without apparent hurry onto the balcony wall on the first floor. There it resumed its ablutions while the hairy creature, who appeared to be an extremely large dog, tried to jump after it, landing instead on the porter who staggered under the sudden weight.

“Get away, you cur!” he growled, roughly shoving the animal off.

The dog, however, wagged its tail, immediately losing interest in the cat in favor of the porter’s coat pocket. The porter clapped his hand over it, protecting his half-eaten pie from the intrusive snout.

“Get away!” the porter yelled, shoving the dog’s head with unnecessary force. He even raised his boot and kicked out, catching the dog a glancing blow on the ribs.

Juliet had seen enough. Barging past the man, she stood in front of the now-wary dog, who was clearly not willing to give up on his pie prospects just yet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she raged. “How dare you hurt your poor dog! If you just fed him…”

“He ain’t my dog,” the porter said aggressively. “What would I want with a great beast like that eating me out of house and home? And if he don’t want to be kicked, he should stay out of my pockets!”

“Brute!” Juliet exclaimed. Even then, she was aware her anger was not entirely on behalf of the dog, who didn’t seem unduly upset by his treatment. The rest was her own emotion boiling to the surface.

The porter started toward her, clearly trying to intimidate her. Fury spat from his eyes, and his lips twisted. She glared back, while the dog stuck his hairy head under her hand and growled low in his throat.

The porter made a threatening gesture with his raised boot, presumably aimed at the dog, although it was unlikely he could kick it without hurting Juliet, too.

“Gun! Here, boy!” came a commanding voice, and a tall young man pushed through the crowd that had gathered to watch the confrontation. The dog, who was clearly easily distracted, immediately abandoned Juliet