“So I see,” he muttered. Removing his hat and greatcoat, he took the seat opposite and turned to the maid. “Elsie, I presume.”
The maid curtsied the best she could while holding the agitated cat. “Aye, sir, Elsie Turner if it pleases ye.”
“You’ve changed so much, I might not have recognized you if not for the golden curls.”
Uncertainty filled her face, and she studied James as though trying to place him. “Have we met before, sir?”
James smiled. “It’s been several years, and you were a mite younger, probably not much over ten years at the time. I am Mr. Roth of Branbury Manor.”
The girl’s uncertainty turned to excitement. “Oh, yer Old Sir John’s brother,” she near squealed.
Every head in the room turned toward us.
James kept the smile in place, though it appeared tighter around the edges. “Right you are, Elsie.” He tugged off his gloves and set them on the seat next to his hat. “We will have bread and cheese and whatever meat is currently roasting. And two cups of spiced wine.” He glanced at me. “Will that suffice, Miss Kilbrid?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Roth.”
The maid turned to leave. Wanting the last word, the orange devil peered over her shoulder and hissed at me again.
“Wait a moment, Elsie,” James said, stopping the girl in her tracks. “Did a dark-haired lady come into the inn anytime during the past six hours? She would have been wearing a gray dress, and been accompanied by a small, fair-haired child of about twelve years.”
Elsie readjusted her grip on the cat. “Don’t know, sir. My older sister Anna was serving folks then, while I worked the morning pies. She’s in the kitchen now, so I can ask her if ye wish it.”
“Very well.” James eyed the struggling cat. “And you best lock that creature up as it seems to have mistaken my traveling companion for a rodent.”
The maid scurried away.
I studied the back of my damaged glove, in no way pleased by the comparison. Rodent, indeed. Drawing the damp leather from my fingers, I set the gloves aside and assumed a casual tone. “Why didn’t you tell me you were from Branbury?”
A slow flush rose into his cheeks, looking all the more red against the white line that appeared around his clenched mouth. “Because it is of no importance.”
Over the past few months, I’d seen the same discoloration enough times to recognize James’s rising anger. It served as a barometer of sorts, the blood climbing with the seriousness of the storm. Judging by the most recent marker, I should have let it go. And I might have if the man hadn’t just compared me to a rodent and acted as though it were my fault that the animals were insane.
“Your appearance has caused quite a stir amongst the locals. Though I must say you don’t seem very pleased to be here—”
His hand came down hard on the table. “Leave it, Miss Kilbrid,” he said with quiet fury. “I never intended for you to know this part of my life.”
What the other patrons may have missed from his actual words was inferred from the loud thud against the table. That alone had spoken volumes of his opinion toward me. Well, the man could do as he pleased, but I for one had no intention to participate in such a display.
“Suit yourself. I was just trying to make polite conversation.”
A thin shadow of guilt crossed James’s face. “Forgive me, Miss Kilbrid. I...” He stopped speaking, dropped his eyes to the table, and lightly tapped a well-manicured finger against the wooden surface. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper, but I am not comfortable discussing the particulars of my home.”
I nodded in acknowledgment of the apology. With nothing more to say, we slipped into a strained silence. A moment later the maid brought two steaming cups of wine. When she loitered at our table under the pretense of wiping up some invisible crumbs, I caught sight of a shy smile and followed her gaze to James’s profile. Thick fair hair was tied back at the nape, revealing the lines of a well-etched face. His nose was straight, his mouth pleasant when not set in a sneer. Dark brown eyes offered an interesting contrast to his otherwise lighter coloring. He was a handsome man by all means, though I had yet to see much of the underlying beauty that had so enraptured my friend.
A fat fly zigzagged a line between us, bypassing our steaming cups for another table with a bounty of crumbs and scraps. James must have felt the weight of my stare, for he turned suddenly, pinning me with those dark eyes. I forced a smile and moved my attention to the wine.
The maid returned with the platters of food, along with two rough linen napkins and forks. “Anna don’t recall seeing the lady ye asked about, sir.”
James frowned. “Thank you for inquiring, Elsie. They must have stopped elsewhere.”