Regency Christmas Wishes(12)

As he left the courtyard of the inn, picking his way between carriages and horses and hurrying grooms, he picked up the dog. The innkeeper was right, the poor little fellow might have been trampled. What were a few more mud stains on his coat anyway? No one would care, back at Standings. And there were worse things than flea bites, although Adam could not think of many offhand.

He could feel bones through the matted fur and promised the dog another meal soon, and a bath. The pup licked his cheek as Adam negotiated the inn yard, satchel in one hand, dog in the other. “I just wish I had somewhere to take you.”

Then a handsome phaeton raced into the yard, splashing more mud on Adam and the dog. A scarlet-coated officer leaped down and tossed the reins to one of the grooms who came running. The driver shouted “Sorry” toward Adam and strode for the taproom. He turned back. “Standish? Is that you, man?”

“Johnny Cresswell? Good grief, how long has it been? And you are still as cow-handed as ever!”

“But a lieutenant now, I’ll have you know!”

With bear hugs and back slaps, the two old schoolmates exchanged welcomes, while the dog danced at their feet, barking. Adam led his two companions to a quieter corner. “Are you on leave? How long will you be in town? How are your parents?”

“Not precisely on leave,” the lieutenant answered, “for I took a ball in the shoulder.” Seeing Adam’s look of concern, he added, “I am fully recovered, but the War Office is keeping me here until I am needed for courier duty. The parents are well, the last I heard, but the roads to Yorkshire are already near impassable, more’s the pity, so I will not be going home for the holidays. And you, what brings you away from your country fastness?”

“Business,” was all Adam said. “I leave tomorrow.”

“Well, you’ll stay with me at Cresswell House tonight, of course.”

“I could not . . .”

“What, you’d leave me to rattle around the mausoleum of a town house by myself with nothing but servants for company? Don’t be a nodcock. Besides, there’s to be a party for Iverson on Friday. You’ll have to stay for that. He’ll be pleased as punch to see you there. Did you hear old Ivy put on leg shackles?”

“Yes, I was actually invited to the party.” Adam bent, pretending to brush dirt off the dog. “I did not bring my formal clothes.” He did not say he did not own anything fitting for Miss Relaford’s gathering, nor that he could not spend the money on useless fripperies. “No time to have something made up.”

Cresswell waved that aside. “We’re of a size, and all my formal wear is stowed in the attic. If something needs altering, my batman is a wizard with a needle. I, of course, shall wear my dress uniform. Impresses the ladies, don’t you know.”

Johnny was already handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes and a raffish, dimpled smile. The tavern girls had always looked at him first, until they heard Ivy’s title. They barely noticed Adam, even then. Now, with Ivy taken and Johnny in his dress uniform, dripping gilt and ribbons . . . Adam’s heart sank to his shabby boots. “Miss Relaford?”

Cresswell nodded. “Met her at the wedding. A regular Incomparable.”

“Yes, I thought so, too.”

The lieutenant looked more closely at his friend, hearing the plaintive note. “Ah, sits the wind in that quarter, then?”

“The wind does not sit at all. It blew straight past me, on Beasdale’s breath.”

“Well, if it is any consolation to you, he’d never let the fair maid go off to follow the drum with a mere lieutenant either. But cheer up, old man, who knows what other well-dowered daughters will be at the party? Ivy found a pretty one, with no trace of her father’s coal mines in her manners.”

“You don’t mean to tell me Iverson wed an heiress simply for her father’s money, do you? I knew he was punting on Tick, but . . .”

“Hell, no. Miss Applegate’s a beauty, too, and likes horses as much as Ivy does. He fell arsy-varsy over the girl.” Cresswell shook his head. “I never would have believed it possible myself.”

Adam believed it.

“Well, come on then,” the lieutenant said, “let’s be off. I am sharp-set, and Cook will be thrilled to have another mouth to feed.”

Adam looked down. “What about the dog? He seems to be mine now.”

“Bring him along, of course. He looks like he could use a decent meal even more than we can. Have you given him a name?”

“Lucky,” Adam decided on the instant. What else?





6


Fiend seize it, there was a feather mattress! Adam sank down upon it and, with a hesitant hand, pulled back the cover. The sheets at Cresswell House were fine, but they were not silk, thank goodness. Otherwise he would have to doubt both his sanity and all the laws of nature as he knew them. As it was, he was having trouble believing the amazing coincidence of finding Johnny Cresswell just when he wished for a place to stay the night.