The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,23

occurred all too often.

It didn’t help that Ben seemed to be a rather singular individual—even Jago found the younger man interesting.

Catherine had lived a sheltered existence and behaved with the fresh openness of a much younger woman. Jago could only hope that she could keep her infatuation in check.

Fortunately, Ben struck him as a solid lad who was too keen to keep his position to meddle with the daughter of the house.

He hoped.

An image of the boy’s earnest blue eyes flashed through his mind.

Jago smiled to himself, relief flooding his belly. Yes, he felt sure that he could rely on Ben to be both honorable and truthful.

***

Truro was a bustling town and the economic and social center of Cornwall. While it was nothing to London, Oxford, or even Manchester—where Jago had first practiced medicine—Jago still had a soft spot for it.

The Crown and Dragon was not the most appropriate place for an earl to lodge, but the doctor in him felt more comfortable in the modest hostelry. Not to mention it was far easier on his already over-burdened purse.

Jago was just gathering up the hospital plans he’d been studying when the door opened.

He looked at Ben’s eager, earnest face and couldn’t help smiling. “You needn’t break your neck getting the door for me, Ben. I’ve been opening my own doors for many years.”

“It is my pleasure, my lord.”

“You’re heading directly to the auction, I collect?” Jago asked.

“Yes, my lord. I’ll have missed the morning lot but there is a second one just after noon.”

“Very good. Don’t forget to visit the hiring agency, too.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Engage a room for me—something with a private parlor for my dinner—and see that this is taken up along with my other luggage.” He handed the hospital plans to the lad and then hopped out of the coach. He hesitated, and then said, “I shall want a game tonight—after my meal. I daresay the inn keeps a chess set, see that it is set up in my room.”

“Very good, sir.”

Jago noticed that Ben’s cheeks were more than a little fiery and something occurred to him. “Er, actually, now that I think of it, a young handsome man like yourself might be wishing to go out on the town this evening. If that’s the case, you should—”

“I have no such plans, my lord.” Ben cleared his throat, eyes downcast. “I would enjoy beating you again this evening.”

Jago threw back his head and laughed at the boy’s uncharacteristic flare of humor. “You cheeky cockerel,” he chided.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Ben said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No you don’t, you’re quite proud of delivering such a leveler. Well,” he said, picking up his satchel. “I’d better be off and leave you to it, then.”

Ben’s amusement slid away and his face took on a pained aspect. “Er, could I not take you to your destination, sir? Or perhaps engage a hack for you?”

“I find that I am missing my exercise these days, Ben. If I don’t move around a bit more, I am in danger of becoming portly.”

Ben’s eyes flickered over him and the younger man’s face darkened before he glanced away. “Aye, my lord,” he mumbled.

“I shan’t be back until near five,” Jago said, and then strode in the direction of the street.

It would be a full day; not only did he have several meetings, but he also needed to find time to visit the shops on the high street.

The need for new clothing was both irksome and embarrassing. But, as much as he hated to admit it, he could no longer dress only to please himself. While his servants and family seemed to accept him for what he was—a country doctor who’d unexpectedly inherited an earldom—he owed it to the people who relied on him to show respect for both them and the title he now carried.

It did not matter that it made no sense to spend money he could ill afford. The sad truth was that people expected a man to look the part

Jago turned onto Pydar Street and found himself in the thick of traffic. He hadn’t been to Truro since before his brother had banished him and was astonished by how—

“Such a serious expression.”

Jago’s head jerked up at the sound of the familiar voice.

Directly ahead of him was Ria, who looked to have just stepped out of a milliner’s shop. Two liveried footmen waited a short distance away, their arms piled with boxes.

“Ria, what are you doing here?” The question was both