Page 19 of Trouble

‘That’s Fairmont,’ said the pretty, plump barmaid, leaning towards Emily as she polished a glass with her rag.

Emily shifted minutely back. ‘Yes.’

Satisfied that they shared this knowledge, the barmaid nodded.

‘They’ve a new governess,’ she said.

Emily did not react. She supposed that the bartering of information like this was a key part of the barmaid’s trade. Perhaps she was expecting something in return. Perhaps she was just bored.

‘Scrawny, odd-looking thing, apparently. The Sandlers saw her on the way in. Underfed. Big lampy eyes, like a runt kitten. I suppose it’s as well to have a plain governess, though, so that nobody gets any ideas – ’specially with the captain a widower nigh on four years now.’

Emily ducked her head, focusing carefully on her drink.Odd-looking?Thanks ever so, Mr and Mrs Sandler. She should have opened that carriage door and let their baby slide out into the mud.

She didn’t reply, and eventually the barmaid bustled off to bother somebody else. She was left alone for all of ten seconds before somebody sat down next to her at the bar. Emily did not look at him, so all she got was a vague impression: warmth, reddish hair, a dark coat.

‘For what it’s worth,’ the man said quietly, ‘I happen to like your eyes.’

Emily stiffened. She still did not look. She picked up her pint and knocked back the last of it, then made to get up.

He put his hand on the bar next to her.

‘Wait,’ he said. ‘I apologise. That was too bold of me. What I really meant to say was .?.?. good afternoon.’

It was a valiant effort, but Emily was not so easily fooled.

‘By way of apology,’ he continued, undeterred, ‘let me buy you a drink. You do not have to talk to me while you drink it.’

‘I know I don’t,’ said Emily, before she could stop herself. Damn.

‘Ah.’ She could hear a smile in his voice. It was annoying. ‘Good. Then we have a deal.’

As he leaned forward to catch the barmaid’s attention, Emily glanced at him. He had dark auburn hair that curled gently down to his neck, a neat moustache that matched, and was incongruously tanned in the same way that Captain Edwards was. Another seafaring man, then, or perhaps a soldier – something had kept him dallying out of doors. He looked to be around forty, give or take a few years either side.

When the pint appeared, he slid it towards Emily with a knowing smile, and she looked away.

‘Did I win, then?’ he said quietly.

‘Win what?’ said Emily, taking a sip and then using her sleeve to blot her mouth in a very unladylike manner. ‘I am drinking your pint. I was led to believe that I could do so without a running commentary.’

‘Not that,’ said the man. ‘You’re the mysterious, underfed governess, yes? You were very good, but you twitched a little and it gave you away.’

Emily took another long drink. ‘Yes,’ she said eventually. ‘The mystery is how I find my way around with such odd, “lampy” eyes.’

The man laughed at once, light and easy. ‘We have already established what I think of your eyes. How are you liking Fairmont?’

Emily did not quite roll her much-discussed eyes, but it was a close thing.

‘I like Fairmont just fine.’

‘Goodness, I can tell. Is Captain Edwards treating you well?’

‘Who?’ said Emily.

The man laughed again. ‘Giving you the cold shoulder, is he? Sounds just like the old bastard.’

Emily let out a surprised huff of laughter, disturbing the froth of her beer, and then stopped very abruptly.

‘Outlawed laughing now, too, has he? Well, he’ll never get that through the Lords.’