A Rake by Any Other Name

Author:Mia Marlowe
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc
Published: 2014-08-25T22:10:41+00:00

Fifteen

There are secrets we keep with trembling because we know, if they come to light, we will never be the same. Then there are secrets so deep they cannot be uttered. Those we keep because we don’t even know they exist.

—Phillippa, the Dowager Marchioness of Somerset

David dodged the irregularly spaced tables and thrown-down chairs. He elbowed his way through the crowded room, nearly coming to blows with one burly customer who’d had a few pints too many. But he finally burst into the soft night in time to see Clack tearing down High Street and ducking into a narrow lane.

David stretched into a mile-eating stride and careened into the lane just as his quarry realized it dead-ended into a man-high wall that surrounded the village smith’s shop. Clack doubled back and tried to duck under David’s outstretched arm.

He managed to escape David’s grasp but couldn’t evade his out-thrust foot. Clack stumbled and fell headlong onto the graveled lane. David pinned him to the ground with a knee to his spine and firm grips on both the man’s wrists.

***

“Well, that was rude,” Sarah said, her gaze following the footman-turned-valet across the room and out the door.

“And not like David at all.” Eliza wanted more than anything to tear out of the Hound and Hare’s kitchen and go after him, but if they were going to do that, she and Sarah should have gone immediately. Now, it would seem…intrusive.

If he’d wanted their company, David would have told them to come.

Still, she didn’t like the look of that fellow David had called out. And what was Miss Bowthorpe doing with him?

As if Eliza had summoned her, the governess rose from her table and headed their way.

“Good evening, Miss Dovecote, Sarah,” she said, her posture so erect Eliza suspected she’d frozen that way and would never thaw no matter how warm she got. “Did either of you chance to hear the name Mr. Abbot called the gentleman who was seated at my table?”

“Clack, miss,” Sarah piped up. “Thaddeus Clack.”

“Dear me. That’s not the name he gave to me.” Miss Bowthorpe drew her lips together in a censorious line. “He insinuated himself into a conversation with me, claiming to have known my dear, departed niece.” She lifted her chin, accentuating her height, which was quite tall for a woman, and gave herself a little shake. “Let that be a lesson to you, ladies. Never speak to one to whom you have not been properly introduced. Good evening.”

“Wait a moment, Miss Bowthorpe.” This was the most the woman had ever said to Eliza, even when she used to deliver Miss Bowthorpe’s meals on a tray. Eliza burned with curiosity to know more about the recluse. If she could draw the governess out about this niece she seemed to care for so much, Eliza might be able to understand her better. “Would you care to join us? The biscuits are gone, but we’ve tea enough to share here in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, no,” Miss Bowthorpe said with a sniff.

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