Agent of the Crown (11 page)

“You’re good enough to sing in the city,”
Telaine said, taking a stab at flattery.

A murmur went up. Alys said, “I don’t need
you putting on airs at me. Not everything’s about the city, you
know.”

She’d overplayed her hand. Pride trumped
vanity every time. “I’m sorry. I only meant to say how much I liked
your song. I don’t have anything else to compare it to.”

“We’re proud of our town,” said Liam
Richardson. “Happen you should remember that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.
Lovely work
with the crowd there, Princess.

“Come on, Jack, forget the city girl and play
something we can sing along to,” said a voice. Telaine, now feeling
deeply discouraged, smiled and nodded at random and made her way to
the door.

It opened when she was only a few steps away,
and five men entered. Their shabby uniforms of green and brown
looked nothing like what Telaine was used to from watching the Army
drill on the parade grounds outside the palace. Those uniforms were
clean, neatly mended, with fully buttoned jackets and crisp uniform
caps. These men’s uniforms looked as if they’d been slept in for
several days, some of them bore food stains, and their scuffed
boots might have been through weeks or months of hard marching
without being polished. Telaine stepped aside, and one of them
leered at her as they went to the bar.

“Whiskey all around,” said one. The room had
gone silent. Taylor, who had started playing another song, trailed
off and turned around. One of the quarrymen standing near Telaine
closed his meaty hands into fists. The soldiers acted as if they
didn’t notice the tension, but even so they walked lightly,
preparing to defend themselves against whatever attack might
come.

The barkeep laid out five whiskeys and
stepped away, nervous, but unable to take his eyes off the men.
Yes, let’s add alcohol to this volatile mixture
, Telaine
thought, and wondered what she’d stepped into.

Maida Handly came out of the back room.
“Thought I told you fellows not to come in here again, after last
time,” she said. Her voice was even more unwelcoming than it had
been that morning. She held a glass stein as if she were thinking
about using it as a weapon.

“That warn’t us,” said the soldier who’d
ordered the drinks. “You wouldn’t keep us thirsty ‘cause some other
fellows tore up the place?”

“You all look the same to me. Happen you
better leave before trouble strikes.”

“Now, Miss Handly, we’re not looking for
trouble, so if it strikes, it won’t be my boys who cause it,” said
another man from the doorway. He was more handsome than Taylor,
tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a high-collared black jacket
and tan trousers, with boots polished well enough to see
reflections in them. He wore his long, dark hair gathered at the
nape of his neck, drawing attention to the elegant bones of his
face and the dark curve of his brows.

He surveyed the room, and unlike the soldiers
he was genuinely unconcerned about the tension. His eyes passed
over Telaine once, then flicked back to rest on her face. He
smiled, and a chill went through her. “I don’t believe I’ve had the
pleasure,” he said.

Telaine felt like a small animal who’d
stepped into the path of a fox. “I’m Lainie Bricker,” she said, and
thrust out her hand. “I’m staying with my Aunt Weaver. I’m a
Deviser.”

She’d had so much practice saying it that it
came out of her mouth automatically, without engaging her brain. By
the time she realized she didn’t want this man touching her, it was
too late. The elegant stranger took her hand and, instead of
shaking it, brought it to his lips and kissed it as formally as any
prince. “Morgan,” he said. “I’m
very
pleased to make your
acquaintance.”

“You’re a soldier?” Eight years of relentless
training in the niceties of conversation came to her rescue.
Get
him to talk about himself. It’s every man’s favorite
subject.

Morgan chuckled. “No,
just a watchful eye
when the fort allows its soldiers a few hours of free time.
Miss Handly, I see we’re not welcome here. We’ll be on our way. I
hope, though, that this little episode shows our men can
be…civilized.” He bowed over her hand again, released it, then
gestured the soldiers toward the door. The same soldier leered at
Telaine as before, but half-heartedly, as if by rote.

She stared after them even after they shut
the door on themselves and the cool late summer night, then shook
her head to break free of the spell Morgan had cast. “Who was
that?” she asked in a faint voice.

“Archie Morgan,” said Miss Handly. She still
sounded tense. “The Baron’s right-hand bully boy.”

Someone who looks like that is named
Archie? He ought to be called Dirk or Sylvester or Raphael
.

“Don’t let his smooth ways fool you,” said
Taylor, animosity forgotten. “He’d be a stone killer if the mood
struck him right.”

“That’s never been proved, Jacky,” said Alys.
She had a starry-eyed look in her eyes. “Happen some men could
learn something about treating a lady right from him.”

Taylor pulled Alys closer. “I don’t want you
having aught to do with him,” he said, and Alys transferred her
starry-eyed look to him. It dimmed when he released her and said,
“Nor should you, Miss Bricker. Would hate for anything to happen to
you.”

“Thanks, Mister Taylor,” Telaine said. “And
thanks for the drink, Miss Handly. It’s bed for me.”

“So early? No, stay a while,” said Liam
Richardson, and his brother added, “You wouldn’t leave us alone
with just Jack for company, would you?” They seemed to have
forgotten she’d been an uppity city girl minutes before.

Telaine smiled and dimpled at them, and was
rewarded to see them blush.
I do love having that power.
“I
suppose I could stay for a few more drinks,” she said, and settled
at a table and spent the next hour having her three admirers pay
her some welcome attention.

Nearby, Alys fumed, but Telaine had no
intention of making these men actually fall in love with her. Her
novelty would pass in time, and Alys would go back to being the
acclaimed town beauty and songstress. She
was
beautiful; she
just didn’t know how to use it. Pity she would never be willing to
take lessons from Lainie Bricker.

Telaine woke the
next morning to dull, cloudy skies. She felt dull herself, foggy
and desperately in need of coffee. Nothing went right, starting
with breakfast. It turned out knowing how to light the stove didn’t
mean knowing how to boil water, and while she was failing at that,
her toast in the archaic toasting fork burned. She had to settle
for bread and milk the way she had the day before, but even that
was disgusting because the milk had gone off, something she only
discovered after taking a big drink.

Aunt Weaver was already at the loom when she
was ready to leave. “Good morning,” Telaine said. It wasn’t really,
but maybe if she pretended hard enough, the day would improve. Aunt
Weaver only grunted in reply. Telaine caught Alys’s eye as she
withdrew from the great room; Alys gave her a glare that could have
melted wax. Telaine decided against answering in kind and left the
house.

As before, no one met her eyes as she walked
down the street, trying to decide what to do first. If only Taylor
and the Richardsons were around…but they probably worked at the
sawmill or the quarry, and she wouldn’t see them again until
nightfall. Garrett might have had a pleasant word for her, but the
forge was empty when she passed it. She tried not to feel
downhearted. After all, making friends wasn’t important. The job
was.

She decided to wait a few hours before
approaching Mistress Richardson. She told herself it was a desire
to explore the town and not cowardice that motivated her. After
wandering the side streets for a while, she knocked at Mistress
Richardson’s door and waited for the red-haired woman to emerge.
She looked at Telaine with even more sourness than before. “Yes?”
she said.

“Please don’t take this as nagging…it’s only
that I forgot to ask you when my laundry would be done, yesterday.”
The woman, who was shorter and older than Telaine, intimidated her
more than Irv Tanner’s looming menace.

“Had a problem with that.” She went back
inside and returned with a wad of cloth she shoved into Telaine’s
hands. “Got caught in the mangle. Sorry.” She handed over a coin.
“No charge.”

Telaine held up what had once been her shirt.
One of the sleeves hung by only a few threads, and there was a
jagged tear down the back. “Oh,” she said faintly.

“It happens sometimes,” said Mistress
Richardson, and shut the door.

Telaine stared at the shirt. She knew nothing
about laundry, but she was certain Mistress Richardson had ruined
the shirt on purpose. Fury built inside her. What under heaven had
she ever done to the woman? Wait. Richardson. Trey and Liam
Richardson. Of course. Mistress Richardson was afraid her boys
would be led astray by the… the…whatever she believed Telaine
was.

Telaine turned around and strode back to Aunt
Weaver’s place, stomped up the stairs and threw the shredded shirt
into a corner with as much force as she could. It fluttered down
unsatisfactorily and landed without a sound. She wanted to kick
something. This was without doubt the worst idea her uncle had ever
had. Better to send in a troop of Army regulars to break into the
Baron’s manor, tear his home apart, drag the man into the street
and force him to reveal his secrets. They could convict him of
smuggling just as well that way. And she could go home.

She kicked the shirt again and got no more
satisfaction out of it than before. Of course they couldn’t convict
him that way, or she wouldn’t be in Longbourne. Why did the Baron
even care about smuggling goods when he already had fortune enough
to buy anything he liked?

She rubbed her temples and willed the
incipient headache away. She shouldn’t make assumptions. He might
not be smuggling things for his personal use; possibly he was going
to sell them on the black market in some other province to increase
his personal fortune. She should probably find out what his
personal fortune was. Maybe he
couldn’t
afford things, and
he
did
need to smuggle in luxury items.
Stop making
assumptions just because you’re frustrated, Lainie.

Her stomach chose that moment to announce
that it was hungry. She sat on her bed and tried to calm herself.
These people are not the job. That Morgan fellow—you told him
you were a Deviser. He’ll tell the Baron. Just a few more days and
you can leave this awful place.
But at that moment, she was
going to eat.

The tavern was as full as it had been the day
before. Again, Miss Handly offered her mutton or soup, and Telaine
took mutton. While she waited, she smiled at Glenda Brewster, who
was there alone, and nodded politely at the other customers, but
didn’t try to engage any of them in conversation. There was no more
need to make nice with the natives. The thought of it made her head
begin to throb again. Maybe she ought to invite herself to the
Baron’s home, after all.

“Miss Handly? Do you have any whiskey? I feel
the need for something stronger today,” she said. Miss Handly
raised her eyebrows, but brought her a little glass of amber
liquid. Telaine took a sip and let it roll down her throat. It was
nothing like what she was used to, harsh and with a strange flavor,
but it was alcoholic and it set a much-needed fire burning in her
belly.

“Miss Bricker?” Glenda said. “Should
you….”

“Could you say that again, Miss Brewster? I
didn’t hear you.”

Glenda cleared her throat. She looked even
more anxious than usual. “Should you…I mean, I’ve heard…isn’t
alcohol bad for your baby?”

Telaine inhaled sharply and sucked in a few
remaining drops of whiskey. She coughed and choked so hard she
thought her eyes might pop out of her head. “My
what
?” she
exclaimed when she could speak again.

Glenda looked terrified. “I’m not pregnant,”
Telaine said. She looked around the room. People studied their
tables, their laps, as if nothing could be more interesting.
Everything started to fall into place.

“I’m not pregnant!” she shouted. She slammed
her fists on the table and stood, feeling her fury come back with a
vengeance. “You all thought I was pregnant and unbonded, didn’t
you? That I was trying to get out of my responsibility to provide
my child a family bond? I cannot
believe
this.” She took a
deep breath, her voice shaking. “That’s why you’ve all been so rude
and nasty. You felt entitled to treat me like dirt because you
thought I was flouting the law!”

She glared around the room, catching the eyes
of every one of her captivated listeners, who looked away in shame.
“Well, let me tell you something,
good people
. Where I come
from, we aren’t happy about children born outside a family bond,
but
we
don’t think there’s anything shameful about it. And
if I
were
pregnant without being sworn and sealed to a
husband, I wouldn’t need to run away, because I’d have any number
of people to support me, starting with my family.”

She took another breath. “And if I’d known
what you people were like, I sure as hell wouldn’t have come
here.
” Telaine pounded her fists down on the table again and
stormed out of the tavern, slamming the door behind her.

Now she knew what Aunt Weaver had told
everyone. “Got into trouble” indeed. She probably hadn’t even come
out and said her niece was an unmarried mother-to-be, she’d just
let everyone assume it. Telaine was done being polite to the woman.
She was going to tear her apart.

She saw Mistress Richardson on her stoop and
veered over to meet her. “Let’s get this straight,” Telaine said.
“I have no interest in your sons. I would have no interest in your
sons even if I
were
trolling for a father for my
illegitimate child. That’s what you thought, isn’t it? How dare you
take it on yourself to judge me? You are a nasty-minded,
mean-spirited woman, and next time you should have the decency to
say what your problem is instead of taking it out on my
clothes.”