Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)

“I’ve decided what to work on improving next, once the new wing is completed.” Without waiting for his encouragement, she continued, “I need to help Mr. Handsford smarten up his house, and add a fresh coat of limewash to the church.”


He silently pondered the meaning of those two gestures, knowing he wouldn’t need to ask for an explanation.

Sure enough, one was soon forthcoming. “That’s one thing I learned from the hotel in Bath,” she said. “Remember we had that lovely view of the river? It’s not only the outward appearance of the inn that’s important, it’s the prospect a guest will see from her room. The church and Mr. Handsford’s cottage are directly across the road. They can be seen from each new room’s windows, so we need to be certain they’re looking their best. The entire village needs to look its best. Clean, bright, cheery. Perhaps we’ll paint all the shutters and sashes red.”

He didn’t answer. Just gave a low grunt of agreement and turned his face to the window.

“Oh, but the visitors are the most important thing. If only we could be assured some guests of quality, to spread word of the spa.”

“I don’t suppose a duke and his duchess would serve?”

“A duke? Do you know one?”

“I know several. But the Duke of Morland owes me a favor. You’d like his wife a great deal, I think.” Rhys had hoped to invite the couple to Devonshire sometime soon. But he’d envisioned Meredith welcoming them as Lady Ashworth, not as landlady of the Three Hounds.

“Oh!” She clapped her hands together. “That would be ideal. I shall have to make up the new corner room to perfection. The ducal suite.”

He sighed. Her answer must be no, then. That was the only explanation for her nervous energy and her persistent focus on the inn. She was already preparing for a life without him.

Damn it. He knew he shouldn’t have told her the truth.

But she hadn’t officially refused him yet. He still had some time to change her mind. Or perhaps the cottage could. She hadn’t been out to see it in a while. With the windows and doors cut out and the roof freshly thatched, it looked cozy and welcoming, if rustic. And if it was scenery she’d grown to value, she should see the prospect from her dormer window. Perhaps she’d fall in love with the view.

Right.

Again they made good time on the journey, and a smoky dusk was just settling as they reached the border of the moor.

“Is it much farther?” she asked, peering out into the twilight.

“Ten or twelve miles, I should say. Another hour or two.”

“I don’t like the looks of this weather. A mist will be on us soon.” She took a rug from the coach’s underseat compartment and shrank into the corner of the bench, wrapping the woven blanket over her legs. To Rhys, seated on the opposite side, she looked very small. And very far away.

A mist did indeed bloom from the humid moorland air, enveloping the coach and making for much slower progress. The lamps illuminated a small section of the road ahead—enough that the carriage could safely continue, albeit at a slower pace. But the final hour of their journey stretched into three, and it was full night when they rolled into Buckleigh-in-the-Moor.

“They won’t be expecting us tonight,” she said.

He couldn’t tell whether or not she looked forward to surprising them.

In the end, however, he and Meredith were the ones taken by surprise. The moment the coach rolled to a halt in the courtyard of the Three Hounds, a man rushed out from the stables to greet them. The mist was so thick, Rhys could barely make him out as George Lane until they’d alighted from the coach and he stood two feet in front of them.

“Merry, Rhys.” He coughed, clearly out of breath. “Thank the Lord you’re here.”

“Father.” Meredith gripped the old man’s arm. “For heaven’s sake, what is it? What’s happened? Are you well?”

“I’m fine, it’s—” He broke off coughing again. “It’s Cora. She’s missing. We only just realized it a half hour ago, but no one’s seen the girl since the noon meal. Mrs. Ware says she might remember her expressing an intent to go up toward the cottage. The men were supposed to be working late up there today, finishing the floors. Perhaps she thought to take them some extra food? I don’t know. But the men came back not an hour ago. None of them had seen her. And with this mist …”

“Oh, God,” Meredith choked out.

She didn’t have to explain the dangers to Rhys. Cora could be lost anywhere on the moor. She might have wandered into the bog or stumbled down a slope. And if she were caught out overnight with no protection from the elements …

He put an arm about Meredith’s shoulders. “We’ll find her. I’ll find her.” He tried to sound reassuring, but the truth was, if the girl had been missing for several hours in this weather, it didn’t bode well. “Do you have the men searching?” he asked George Lane.

“Darryl’s organizing them in the tavern.”