Duchess 02 - Surprising Lord Jack Read Free Page B

with no concrete information to go on. He felt a twinge of regret, but he’d long ago come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t save every poor girl in trouble.
    “Ah, here comes Dantley,” Pettigrew said. “Did you fall in, man?”
    Ralph Dantley, thin and storklike, burped. “I’ve got a mind to complain to Findley about his damn dinner.” Dantley nodded at Jack. “Hallo, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the duchess’s ball?”
    Jack did not wish to get into that subject again. He threw back the last of his ale and stood. “I left early. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see Findley about a room.”
    “No rooms to be had, unless a duke’s son can make one magically appear.” Pettigrew’s voice had acquired a sharp edge. “We’ll save you a chair in case your exalted position doesn’t produce a miracle.”
    “Splendid.” He’d rather sleep in the stables; the animals there would be far more congenial than Pettigrew.
    Jack found the innkeeper in the taproom, feverishly filling mugs.
    “Good evening, Findley.”
    “Eh, I’ll be with you in just a min—” Findley turned. “Milord!” He grinned—and then his face fell. “Er, we didn’t expect you tonight.”
    “Who is it, Archie?” Mrs. Findley came out of the kitchen. “Oh, Lord Jack!” Her face also lit up and then collapsed. She bit her lip. “Isn’t tonight the duchess’s and your birthday ball? It’s not over already, is it?”
    “No, but I need to get back to London.” Damn. Perhaps he would be making his bed in the straw. Well, he’d slept in worse places.
    Findley snorted. “You won’t be going any farther tonight. The roads are awful. But I suppose you know that.”
    “I do.” His arms and shoulders ached with that knowledge. It had been the very devil keeping his horses on the road.
    “And you must have missed your supper.” Mrs. Findley shook her head. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
    Food had always been Mrs. Findley’s solution to any problem, which is why he and his brothers had liked stopping by the Crowing Cock so much when they were young. “I am a bit sharp-set.”
    “Of course you are. Now sit down, and I’ll be back in a trice with some mutton and potatoes”—Mrs. Findley’s eyes twinkled—“and some apple pie, too.” She knew how much he liked her apple pie. She disappeared into the kitchen.
    “I’m sorry to come so late and unannounced,” Jack said as he sat at the table. “And when you’re so busy as well.”
    “Think nothing of it, milord. We are delighted to see you.” The worried look settled back over Findley’s face. “It’s just that—”
    “You’ve put someone in the room you save for us. I quite understand. With this crowd, it would be foolish if you hadn’t.” Jack smiled as Mrs. Findley returned with a food-laden tray. “I’ll just sleep down here with the others or out in the stables.”
    “You will not!” Findley was almost sputtering. “The lad will sleep with the hoi polloi. I’ll get him up straightaway.”
    “No, don’t evict him on my account.” Jack cut into his mutton. Mrs. Findley was an excellent cook. “I don’t need a soft bed. I’m not made of spun sugar, you know.”
    “Oh, milord, it’s all my fault Archie let the boy have the room,” Mrs. Findley rushed to say, “but the poor thing looked so tired.” The woman hesitated, and then forged on, wringing her hands. “I’m sure it is not at all what you are used to, but . . . but would you mind sharing? The—”
    “Madge! Of course Lord Jack won’t share a bed.”
    It wasn’t his preferred arrangement, true, but he’d done it countless times in his travels, and it looked as though that was the only way to save the poor lad from being rudely woken and tossed downstairs. “An excellent plan! That will suit admirably.”
    Mrs. Findley almost sagged with relief. “Well, he’s thin as a whisper, milord. I can’t imagine he’d take up much room.”
    In truth, size