Tender Wings of Desire(5)

Although, was it actually heartbreak? How could Reginald’s heart possibly be broken when they barely had occasion to speak? Love could not have blossomed in such a short period of time; that is not how love worked.

Of course, how could Madeline know how love worked? She had never been in love, she was much too practical for that. Victoria had always been the one who dreamt about the concept of love at first sight, basically ever since she first learned that such a thing existed. Madeline had always been the cautious one.

Well, cautious in matters of the heart, anyway. Victoria never would have dreamed of running away as Madeline had. She relied too heavily on the world of servants and fancy dinners. Madeline could have lived in that world, maybe she could have even found happiness, but she also would have spent a large portion of her life wondering what else was out there. What if other ways of living could have made her happy? Happier, even?

She would just have to find out, but to begin she would have to take that first step.

Madeline backed away from the cliff edge and turned back to Persephone, who was peacefully grazing on the grass nearby. She walked over to the mare and gently patted her on the neck. Persephone whickered softly with affection, and Madeline surveyed the land.

The cliffs seemed to disappear down the road, the sea drawing closer to the land and creating a harbor where a little town was nestled, several miles away, by Madeline’s eye, but close enough that she could probably be there by late afternoon. From where she was standing, the little seaside town looked a bit rundown, but it was as good a place as any for Madeline to start over.

She swiftly mounted Persephone and steered her in the direction of the town, trotting toward what could very well be her destiny.





CHAPTER FIVE




From a distance, the town looked shabby, but the closer Madeline got, the more charming the sleepy hamlet became. It was a crowded place. Every home and store was built as close to the water as possible, giving it a quaint, crooked look, as if it were a drawing in a children’s book. This made it more endearing than ramshackle. The buildings were crowded together and seemed to spill out near the docks of the harbor, where several fishing boats bobbed up and down like toys.

The cobblestones were a little uneven, so Madeline dismounted in order to better guide Persephone through the streets. No one gave her a second glance as she walked, for once melting into the background. Here she wasn’t the eldest daughter of Lord Parker; she was just a traveling woman looking for an opportunity or two. She walked down the street that separated most of the town from the docks of the harbor and kept an eye out for any opportunity. Her eyes rested on a boat or two, though she knew that wasn’t possible given the fact that she had absolutely no idea what to do on a boat.

When she did find her future, it did not hit her like a lightning bolt or some sort of glorious, inspired wave. Instead she merely looked up and saw it.

It was a tavern, clearly one that catered to the sailors who came into the harbor. It was small, with a rickety wooden sign that had an anchor etched into it along with the tavern’s name: The Admiral’s Arms. Madeline had never been inside of a tavern, but as she looked up at the place she figured that there was a first time for everything. This direction felt right to her.

After tying Persephone to the post outside, Madeline threw back the hood of her traveling cloak and entered the tavern with a pounding heart.

It was a dim place, lit only by the occasional lantern or two, with wooden tables and a fireplace that was currently bare. The long bar was the center of the space and was empty except for the person standing behind it. She had to be the most beautiful woman Madeline had ever seen, with bright red hair and dark eyes that looked at Madeline warily.

“Is everything alright?” the woman asked with a musical voice, speaking in an accent that Madeline did not recognize. She threw the towel she had been using to clean the bar over her shoulder and fixed Madeline with a stare that was more concerned than guarded. For some reason the gentleness of the woman’s look touched Madeline in a way that surprised her.

How messy she must look, dirty from traveling while the salt air did interesting things to her curls. Suddenly Madeline felt so unsure of herself, like she did not belong. The woman waited patiently for Madeline to gather the nerve to speak.

“I was looking for a job,” Madeline said. This clearly came as a surprise to the woman.

“Really now?” Madeline realized that the accent clearly wasn’t some mystical form of British, but she still hadn’t narrowed it down from that. Perhaps it was Irish or Scottish? She had never heard an Irish voice, but her nanny had been Scottish.

“Yes.” Madeline gave another look around and realized that this was exactly where she wanted to be.

The woman looked around as well, as if following Madeline’s look, which gave Madeline a nervous feeling.

“I cannot do the hiring,” the woman said. “But I need help at nights, and Carson—he’s the owner—is never one to actually do the helping and he’s always too lazy to take on anyone new. Why don’t you stay and help me tonight, and then we can convince him? If you are here and willing, there’s no way he’ll say no.”

Madeline had not been expecting this response, and it took her a moment to sink in. The woman smiled with kindness.

“Really?” Madeline finally said. “I do not know what to say.”

“Sure,” the woman replied. “All you have to do is tell me your name. I figure that is a start.”

Madeline blushed. “It is Madeline.”

The woman nodded. “The name’s Caoimhe, and please do not ask me to spell it because it is nothing like it sounds.”

“It is not K-E-E-V-A?” Madeline asked, already feeling the grin come to her face. Caoimhe rooted under the bar and pulled out a white linen apron, passing it to Madeline.

“Not even close. Now put that on and act like you work here. Carson will be none the wiser. And welcome to town.”

“I do not even know what it is called,” Madeline confessed. Caoimhe laughed.

“Mistle-Thrush-by-the-Sea,” she replied. “It is a mouthful but has a bit of a romantic flair to it, do you not think?”

Madeline did not know about the romance, but she did know that she could easily grow to love this town.

Madeline turned out to be a quick study in the ways of bartending, mostly because it was an incredibly simple thing to do once someone got their mind wrapped around it properly. Caoimhe’s method of teaching was relatively no-nonsense; she relied heavily on treating the student as though she already knew what was being asked of her, and Madeline would fake her way through it, surprised at how easily she could pick it up.

Of course, it was simple enough: wipe down tables, pull drinks for whoever asked for them. After six o’clock, a cook would come in and put together some dinner fare, “Nothing too special,” Caoimhe said with a wave of her hand and a sniff that implied she could do better.

Once Madeline learned the basics, she then learned a little bit about Caoimhe. She was Irish (which Madeline should have guessed), and had come to England a few years ago for a change of pace.

“I do not think it is as much of a change of pace as I would have liked,” Caoimhe admitted. “But I do like the view.”

The view was indeed spectacular, and the tavern exploited it for all that it was worth by installing giant windows that showed a view of the harbor and the sea beyond. Madeline stopped now and again to take in the view but quickly returned to work, fearful that Carson would see her and find her wanting.

“Do not be afraid of the crowds when they come in,” Caoimhe said once she caught sight of the ships on the horizon. “They are not the scoundrels they all think they are.”

It hadn’t occurred to Madeline to be afraid of the sailors, but now that Caoimhe said something, it was all she could think about for the rest of the afternoon.

There were certain things that occurred to Madeline that, because of her privileged upbringing, she simply did not know. Caoimhe’s eyes had widened in surprise and a little concern when Madeline told her a slightly edited version of her story. Of course, she left out the part where she was a lady marrying a duke and instead just told the basics of her journey. Caoimhe seemed scandalized.

“All by yourself?” she asked with wide eyes. “With no protection?”

Madeline almost asked what protection she could possibly need—she had a horse and could ride like the wind. What else was there? But the look on Caoimhe’s face suggested that there were certain truths that she might not want to know.

Then the shadows began to grow long on the ground; the ships started to come in and so did the sailors. They were a rambunctious bunch, but Madeline wasn’t as scared of them as she thought she would be. Caoimhe admitted that these were merely fishermen who went out to sea during the day and returned home to their wives at night. They certainly smelled like it to Madeline, like salt and fish, but she found that she did not hate it. They were polite, removed their hats, and asked polite questions about the “new worker.” Caoimhe had a terrific rapport with most of them, pouring their tankards of ale and joking with them. Madeline desperately wanted to have that easy rapport, but she knew that it would take time. Hopefully time was what she had.