Paging Miss Galloway Read online

  Edward didn't reply. He carried the boy up the inn's steps and through the open oak door. “A private parlor,” he ordered of the inn's proprietor. “Bring along a washbowl with hot water. Clean cloths as well. Make it quick, my good man."

  "Yes, my lord.” The proprietor led them into a spacious room. As the man was about to leave, no doubt to accomplish the rest of his tasks, Raleigh, as practical as ever, stopped him.

  "And do bring us a hearty repast as well.” Raleigh glanced at Edward, then blushed. “Er, I am sure the boy must be famished."

  "Very good, my lord.” The proprietor bowed, then closed the door behind him.

  Edward laid the boy on an upholstered settee. He rested his gaze on the lad for a moment. For some reason he was disconcerted.

  He abruptly turned away. “Always thinking about your stomach, are you not, Raleigh?"

  "A fellow has to eat,” Raleigh said simply. “As the good doctor, Samuel Johnson, once remarked, ‘He who does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else.’”

  Edward wandered around the parlor, taking care to duck under a particularly low-hanging ceiling beam. His feet soon brought him back to the unconscious boy and his battered face. Edward frowned. Where the devil was that hot water he requested?

  He smoothed flaxen hair off the child's forehead. “Fencing with quotes, Raleigh? Then what about this trifle of wisdom from the Colonial statesman, Ben Franklin? ‘One should eat to live, not live to eat.’”

  Raleigh walked over to the table, pulled out a roughly hewn chair, and sat down with a thud. He clapped his hands against his slightly bulging midsection. “I cry peace, old fellow. We have been traveling since eight, this a.m. ‘Tis only natural we seek to replenish ourselves."

  "Speak for yourself, Raleigh.” Edward could go without food for several days—because of necessity, not preference. The high seas were known to be a harsh mistress. Oftentimes, starvation became the norm.

  The doors opened and the serving staff of The Cross Inn entered bearing fragrant dishes. While Raleigh's attention was riveted to the table, Edward was more interested in a steaming washbowl. He indicated that it be placed next to the settee, waited for the servants to finish their tasks, then dismissed them.

  Instead of sitting at the table, he moved a chair over to the settee.

  "I say, don't mind if I start without you, hey?” Raleigh hungrily eyed a large rump of beef.

  "Just make certain you leave me a morsel.” Edward picked up a clean cloth and dipped it into the water. He'd had much practice in nursing fallen comrades. “Make that two morsels. This lad could use a substantial meal."

  As he dabbed at the bloody scrapes, the boy groaned. The next second, vivid green eyes blinked at Edward.

  "Oh!"

  Edward laid a hand on the child's shoulder to prevent him from sitting up. “Stay, young bantling. You are among friends.” He spoke as he would to soothe a frightened colt. “I fear you have sustained some injuries."

  Blinking rapidly, the boy darted his gaze from Edward to the dining table.

  Fork in hand, Raleigh waved. “Heigho!"

  Who could remain afraid in the presence of Raleigh's easy and unaffected manners? The boy settled back against the cushions.

  "What is your name, lad?” Edward continued cleaning the wounds.

  "D-Danny,” the boy whispered.

  "Have a last name, son?"

  The green eyes widened for a split second, then Danny replied, “Um, Augustus. I-I do not remember...."

  "Of course you don't, young fellow,” Raleigh exclaimed as he chewed his food. “Two hell-hatched street urchins used you as a punching bag. Pounded the stuffing out of you. Lucky to be alive."

  Danny patted down his body as if verifying that the stuffing was indeed beaten out of him. When his hand came into contact with Edward's, the boy pulled back as if scalded.

  Edward smiled at the lad to put him at ease. “I am Edward Sterling and my ravenous friend over there is Xavier Raleigh."

  The blood on Danny's face had finished flowing freely, but swelling and a rainbow of bruising colors distorted his appearance. Indeed, he looked like an overgrown pomegranate.

  Holding out his hand to help the boy up, Edward smiled again. “Come, you must join us in this repast. You need some solid food under your belt."

  As Danny sat up, a pained expression disfigured his face even further. Poor little bugger said nary a word in complaint, however. He staggered to his feet. Whether he could remain standing was anyone's guess.

  Taking matters in his own hands, Edward easily lifted the boy and set him at the table. “You are bound to be a bit shaky after that experience. Not to worry, Danny. Youth is on your side. You will heal quickly."

  Then Edward dismissed the boy from his mind. The food was displayed buffet style, so he helped himself to a large slice of beef, a heaping of potato salad, a spoonful of stewed cucumbers, and two hot rolls.

  For a time silence ruled the parlor. Each occupant concerned himself with the business of eating. The Cross Inn had prepared a tasty meal, and Edward strove to do it justice. He was on his third buttered roll when Raleigh broke the quiet.

  "I say, we're as lively as corpses, aren't we?” Raleigh leaned back from the table and stretched out his arms. His mouth also stretched into a yawn. “Damme, but I could take a snooze right about now."

  "Sluggard.” Edward spoke with no malice. He polished off the last of his beer. “Miles to go before we reach our destination."

  Raleigh's hands rested on top of his now engorged middle. “Why the deuce don't we journey someplace closer? Too far away, Bath is."

  The boy gasped. Up until this moment, not a peep had escaped him.

  Edward set his mug down and steadily regarded Danny. His behavior was all a young lad's should be in the company of his betters. Indeed, if it were not for his ragged clothes, Edward would've guessed the boy to be of gentle birth. His table manners were pleasing—unexpectedly so. Napkin in lap, Danny had kept his gaze down for the entire meal and had concentrated on his food. Until now.

  So what had disturbed the boy's equanimity?

  "Is that where you're headed, my fine lad?” Raleigh asked. “To the fashionable resort town of Bath?"

  Danny returned his gaze to his empty plate. A strand of his pale hair hung down over his cheek. “If it please you, sir, yes. Yes, I am."

  "And why is that?” Edward was unaccountably troubled. The reason for this was quite simple. In addition to its famous healing waters, Bath had a reputation as a pleasure city. Despite the ravages to Danny's face, he was a handsome boy. Did he seek his fortune based upon that fact?

  "I visit my, um, cousin, sir. He is ill and I wish to ... to help him."

  An admirable sentiment, however Edward couldn't banish the growing feeling that the boy was hiding something. “Where are you from? Who do you serve?"

  "I hail from a place east of Heptonstall, sir, and do odd jobs for the local gentry.” Danny's slender fingers fiddled with a button on his leather jerkin. “I have no master,” he added defiantly.

  "And without a feather to fly with either, I will wager,” Raleigh interjected. “I found your carpetbag. You've been stripped clean, young fellow."

  The boy's face turned white—as much as it was possible for bruised skin to lose color. “No money! What will I do now?” he whispered.

  Edward shrugged. “Lick your wounds back at home, bantling. Your great adventure has died a cruel death."

  Danny's eyes flashed and his voice grew hard. “No! I cannot. I will not.” He cleared his throat. “I am an ... orphan."

  Blast. Edward scowled. How could he not intervene on the boy's behalf?

  Danny excused himself from the table. “Where is my carpetbag, sir? I-I would like to see what remains of my possessions."

  Raleigh answered first. “By the fireplace.” He then gave Edward a pointed look. Obviously he wanted Edward to take a hand in the boy's affairs.

  Edward sighed his defeat. Wou
ld there be no end to his good Samaritan deeds today?

  Sitting on the stone floor by the fireplace, Danny rifled through the large bag all the while rubbing his midsection with his hand. A play of emotions flitted across his swollen face. Emotions all pertaining to sorrow.

  "What's missing, lad?” Edward questioned.

  "Only the most important item. The purse.” Danny's slight shoulders slumped.

  He was a dejected sight indeed.

  "Well, buck up,” Raleigh stood. He brushed the nuncheon's crumbs from his breeches. “Sterling here, or rather I should say the Earl of Tremaine, has a proposal for you."

  Damn the man. Edward frowned again. Why did his friend have to be such a gabster?

  "Earl? Proposal?” Still on the floor, Danny lifted his watery gaze to Edward.

  Edward glared his annoyance at his friend, then turned his attention to the boy. “What my irritating companion means is that as we are journeying to Bath, you may accompany us. As my page. Doing light jobs—carrying, fetching, attending to our needs. That sort of thing. What say you?"

  A war must have waged inside Danny's head. His puffy lips trembled and he darted his gaze left and right, obviously indecisive.

  Begad, he should have been jumping for joy—the little ingrate.

  Edward paused at that thought. Why was he being so hard on the boy?

  Danny slowly stood, favoring his left side. He made his way over to Edward and stopped in front of him. “Thank you, my lord. You have been very kind. ‘Tis good of you to offer me this position. I shall do my best."

  Edward couldn't help but admire the young lad. Plucky little thing, he was.

  "So,” Edward got up from the table and arched his back. Sitting for any length of time tightened his muscles. “Let us finish here at The Cross Inn and continue on to Bath."

  Raleigh glanced out the window at the nearby stable. “Danny here will need a horse."

  Edward sighed. Until he met with his solicitor in Bath, he had no idea how his finances stood. And now here was another unexpected expense.

  He looked at Danny's meager form. The boy could ride in front of him on his horse.

  He only thought that for a moment. No. For some peculiar reason, the idea was too appealing by half.

  "Come,” Edward walked to the parlor's double doors. “I must procure a horse for my new page."

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  Chapter Two

  Sitting astride a horse was a very unusual sensation. Indeed, Danielle was awash in unusual sensations; not riding sidesaddle was only one of them. While she enjoyed the feel of both her legs hugging solid horseflesh, she couldn't help flinching as the mare plodded behind her two rescuers.

  Ouch. Those ruffians had punched her in the stomach. Or stomped on her—repeatedly. Bother the pain. She prayed she had no broken ribs. Who could've imagined that her body could hurt so much?

  She started to frown, but even that movement caused pain by stretching her swollen lips. Truth be told, back at The Cross Inn, she hadn't had the courage to glance in a looking glass at her throbbing face. It was a certainty none of her many suitors would be writing bothersome odes about the shape of her nose now.

  A small laugh escaped her lips.

  "Ho! Our young page is amused.” Xavier Raleigh, or rather the Viscount Raleigh as she'd found out, turned around and gave her a quelling stare. “I must protest. There is naught to be amused about this steep climb.” He spoiled his protest by grinning.

  Danielle sighed. She'd been fortunate. Extremely fortunate. Not in the fact that she'd been attacked of course, but in her champions. Lord Raleigh was exceedingly well-favored. Kind and considerate—all that was amiable in a young gentleman. His profusion of light brown curls insisted upon tumbling down on his forehead, giving him a tousled yet endearing look. And his clear blue eyes smiled at her even as his lips smiled too.

  "Doing it too brown, Raleigh,” her other rescuer scolded. “'Tis a modest pack-horse trail we traverse. Never knew you could be so hen hearted over a trifle mound—going downhill, no less."

  She turned her gaze to Edward Sterling. The Earl of Tremaine was a much older man, worn by time and circumstances. Under his tall top hat, his thick dark hair showed a generous sprinkling of grey. His form was fuller, more muscular than his companion's, and he smiled a good deal less. In truth, she was uneasy around him. Her cousin Jeanette and her maid Kate would've been astonished at Danielle's shyness.

  Still, she was grateful for the Earl's assistance. She glanced at his stern eyes and unforgiving expression. Fingers crossed her new duties wouldn't prove too arduous for her. Or perhaps she should wish for a more significant consideration: that her madcap disguise would not be discovered.

  "Do give over, Sterling. My stamina cannot compare favorably with yours.” Lord Raleigh stopped his mount along a dry-stone wall characteristic of this part of West Yorkshire. He waited for Danielle. “Navy man, you know,” he said as an explanation.

  Military men were all the rage back home in Leeds. Brave, handsome officers often passed through the city on their way to southern ports. She looked at the Earl with new interest. His bronzed skin had many lines, perhaps due to sun exposure instead of age. She could picture him, standing proudly on the deck of his ship. His broad shoulders stretching to perfection his dark blue uniform jacket with fringed gold epaulettes. The wind gently blowing his brown hair underneath the black navel cocked hat—

  "Blast, but I am traveling with two old women! If we continue with this toddling pace, I wager we will reach Bath in a week."

  The Earl was exaggerating, of course, but she agreed with his sentiment. She only had a fortnight for her adventure. She couldn't waste it. “I am not an old woman,” she announced as she urged her mare forward.

  "Well, neither am I, last time I looked!” Lord Raleigh pulled on his stallion's reins, increasing the animal's speed. “I say, let's have a wager. Half-crown that we stop in Stafford tonight."

  "Done.” The Earl reached over and clapped Lord Raleigh on the shoulder. “I own I would prefer if we were farther along, however. Birmingham is my pick."

  The two men had a camaraderie that Danielle could never hope to attain—with them, at any rate. First, because she was masquerading as someone from the lower class. Second, and most important, because she was female.

  Danielle trudged behind both lords on the uneven path leading into West Yorkshire's Calder Valley.

  * * * *

  Edward didn't win the wager. But then again, neither had Raleigh. Instead of the town of Stafford, they were forced to put in at the village of Prestbury in Cheshire.

  Although he personally had more miles in him to travel, Raleigh was fagged to death, while young Danny....

  Edward dismounted, handed his reins to the hostelry's post boy, then went to assist his new page. Danny could barely keep his blue-blackened eyes open. As he lifted the lad off the mare, again he marveled at how light the little beggar was. He propped the boy upon a wooden bench in courtyard, then glanced about at the surroundings.

  Although he had never stayed at the Admiral Rodney Inn, he was, of course, familiar with the admiral himself. Admiral Lord Rodney could arguably be called one of England's greatest naval officers. Edward'd had the great good fortune to meet George Brydges Rodney a year before his death in 1792. Then only seventeen, Edward had eagerly devoured Admiral Rodney's tales of victory over the French fleet in a number of battles. It might very well have been this experience that urged Edward toward a naval career.

  The Admiral Rodney boasted of a brick façade awash in white paint, with sloped roofs, and red brick chimneys. The courtyard bustled with activity, and Edward, standing in the center, caused a bit of congestion.

  Raleigh, now off his horse, pulled on Edward's sleeve. He pointed toward the Admiral Rodney's mahogany door. “Let us procure a frothy pint or two, hey? Mayhap we shall come across a willing serving wench.” He wagged his eyebrows.

  Edward raked his gaze over his fri
end's alert stance and twinkling eyes. “Miraculous recovery, Raleigh. I thought you were dead to the world. Is that not why we stopped?"

  Raleigh threw a negligent nod toward Danny. “I had pity on the young guttersnipe. Come, Sterling, an excessive bout of carousing awaits within."

  Edward also looked at Danny. Sleeping soundly, the child was oblivious to everything. Once again, Edward carried the boy, this time through the inn's portals. He couldn't squelch his sigh at the irony of the situation. Weren't pages supposed to wait upon their masters?

  The Rodney had a cozy atmosphere, with an abundance of courteous service. The innkeeper, a jovial fellow with more teeth than hair, rushed over and bowed several times. “Good evening to you, my lords. Good evening. George Barber, at yer service. Owner of the Rodney since aught eight.” He beamed a smile. “You be wanting rooms for the night?"

  "Yes indeed, my good man.” Raleigh took off his top hat and slapped it against his thigh, freeing those dusty curls of his. “The Earl and myself require your finest bedchambers. Two, of course.” He nodded at the bundle in Edward's arms. “What about the boy?"

  Indeed. What about the boy? Edward scanned the hard-edged faces of the Rodney's clientele in the taproom. A few of them lifted groggy gazes and seemed inordinately interested in the newcomers, the youngest one in particular. Some even licked their lips after downing a swig of ale.

  Safety on the road was always a concern. Easy access to the servants’ area was one of the drawbacks to spending the night at an inn. Edward tightened his grip. Danny would sleep in his room. On the floor.

  "Mr. Barber, I shall require extra bedding for my page, if you please."

  "Certainly, my lord. Certainly.” The innkeeper bowed again.

  Raleigh waved a negligent hand. “Do go on, Sterling. I will wait here for you while I slake my thirst."

  Mr. Barber gestured toward the well-trodden log staircase off the main taproom. “Upstairs, my lord. ‘Tis my finest bedchamber awaiting for you. And yer baggage be sent up, quick-like."