Regency Buck Read Free

sir, I can’t help myself. I’m very sorry for the fault, but there’s no help for it, and indeed the company is not what the lady would like.”
    “Judith, it does seem that we shall have to go elsewhere,” said Peregrine reasonably. “Perhaps Stamford—I could see the fight from there, or even farther.”
    “Certainly not,” said Judith. “You heard what this man said, that he believed there is not a room to be had this side of Norman’s Cross. I do not mean to go on such a wild-goose chase. Our rooms were bespoken here, and if a mistake has been made it must be set right.”
    Her voice, which was very clear, seemed to have reached the ears of a group of persons standing over against the window. One or two curious glances were directed towards her, and after a moment’s hesitation a man who had been watching Miss Taverner from the start came across the room, and made her a bow.
    “I beg pardon—I do not wish to intrude, but there seems to be some muddle. I should be glad to place my rooms at your disposal, ma’am, if you would do me the honour of accepting them.”
    The man at her elbow looked to be between twenty-seven and thirty years of age. His manner proclaimed the gentleman; he had a decided air of fashion; and his countenance, without being handsome, was sufficiently pleasing. Judith sketched a curtsy. “You are very good, sir, but you are not to be giving up your rooms to two strangers.”
    He smiled. “No such thing, ma’am. We cannot tell but what my rooms should properly be yours. My friend and I—” he made a slight gesture as though to indicate someone in the group behind him—“have acquaintances in the neighbourhood, and may readily command a lodging at Hungerton Lodge. I—rather I should say we —are happy to be of service.”
    There was nothing to do but thank him, and accept his offer. He bowed again and withdrew to rejoin his friends. The landlord, relieved to be extricated from a difficult situation, led the way out of the coffee-room, and delivered his new guests into the care of a chamber-maid. In a very little time they found themselves in possession of two respectable apartments on the first floor, and had nothing further to do than to await the arrival of their trunks.
    It was one of Miss Taverner’s first concerns to discover the name of her unknown benefactor, but by the time she had seen her baggage bestowed, and arranged for a truckle-bed to be set up in the room for her maid, he had left the inn. The landlord did not know him; he had arrived only a few minutes before themselves; he was not an habitual traveller upon that road.
    Judith was disappointed, but had to be satisfied. There was no finding out in the crowd flocking to Grantham who one individual might be. She owned herself pleased with him. He had a well-bred air; the delicacy with which he had managed the whole business; his withdrawing just when he ought, all impressed her in his favour. She would not be sorry to make his better acquaintance.
    Peregrine agreed to his being a civil fellow, owned himself much beholden to him, would be glad to meet him again, thought it odds they must run across each other in the town, but was more immediately concerned with the means of getting to the scene of the fight next day. It was to be at Thistleton Gap, some eight or more miles to the south-west of Grantham. A conveyance must be found; he would not go in his chaise: that was unthinkable. A curricle must be hired, or a gig, and before he could sit down to his dinner he must be off to see whether he could come by one.
    It was four o’clock, and Miss Taverner had not been used to fashionable hours. She would dine at once, and in her room. Sir Peregrine patted her shoulder, and said she would be more comfortable in her own room.
    Judith curled her lip at him. “Well, you like to think so, my dear.”
    “You couldn’t dine in the coffee-room,” he assured her. “It may do very well for me, but for you it won’t