The Truth About Princesses and Dukes by Bianca Blythe

Author:Bianca Blythe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: royal romance, duke, regency romantic comedy
Publisher: Bianca Blythe
Published: 2021-03-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE NEXT DAY PASSED swiftly, undisturbed by the duke and his men. Rupert allowed himself to hope they’d evaded them. Perhaps taking smaller roads had been sufficient hindrance. Perhaps they were safe.

This part of Staffordshire was less inhabited. There were fewer cottages and fewer public houses.

The sky turned tangerine, then pink, then vanished entirely into darkness.

“I hope we find something soon,” he said.

“Yes,” Aria agreed.

Thankfully, she didn’t list all the things that could go disastrously. There was no mention of potholes, no mention of unseen fallen branches, no mention of highwaymen.

They hadn’t escaped the duke only to be murdered by someone else.

Finally, lights appeared.

“Look!” Aria pointed at a half-timbered building, illuminated by candlelight that danced in the windows. A happy melody drifted through the air. Carts and carriages were parked outside. A groom led horses to a stable, and a few people chatted outside, holding large tankards.

“I think we’ll be able to sleep somewhere,” Rupert said.

“Indeed.” Aria clapped her hands.

Rupert smiled and pulled the carriage over. A groom came to unhook the horses and led them away.

Rupert and Aria entered the tavern. Someone was playing the piano, and most of the public house had evidently volunteered to sing, practically shouting a bawdy song with glee.

Rupert glanced at Aria carefully, but she only smiled.

They approached a round-faced woman in a flowered dress who was pouring tankards of ale.

“Are you the publican, by any chance?” Rupert asked.

The woman set a frothy tankard aside and smiled. “Mrs. Honoria Butterby. My husband and I run this place.”

“We would like two rooms for the night,” Rupert said.

Mrs. Butterby sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, love.”

Rupert’s heart sank. “Why not?”

Mrs. Butterby gestured at the guests. “We’re full.”

“So you have no space? Is there another public house?”

“The closest public house is ten miles away,” the publican continued. “In Littlehampton.”

“That’s where we came from,” Rupert said.

“I’m sorry, love. Ever since they built the road to London here, there’s been more traffic than we can handle.”

“I see.” Rupert nodded solemnly, remembering the princess’s displeasure yesterday.

“But we do have one room,” the publican said brightly.

“Oh?”

Mrs. Butterby nodded happily. “It’s our finest room.” She cast a worried look. “And the most expensive.”

She scrutinized Rupert and the princess, evidently flummoxed by the muddy state of their otherwise nice attire.

“We’ll manage,” Rupert said.

She sighed skeptically. “I don’t want you to spend all your money on it.”

“We’re saving money by sharing,” the princess assured her.

Rupert paid for the room. Even though his mother’s cottage was heavily mortgaged and he owed money to the duke for all the years in which he’d assisted, he wasn’t entirely destitute. After the publican had checked the coin with a detailed scrutiny Rupert suspected she did not use for every exchange of money, she pointed to the staircase.

“The room is on the top floor,” Mrs. Butterby said.

“Thank you.” Rupert scrunched his lip together. “Is it perhaps possible to get some extra bedding for the room?”

The publican frowned. “There is sufficient bedding in each room.”

“Of course,” Rupert said, “but—er—”

“My husband suffers from extreme coldness,” the princess blurted.

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