The Vagabond Duchess

‘It’s blood, of course!’ Tredgold said impatiently.

‘Not that colour. You’ll never frighten the old man to death in pink muslin.’

‘What are you trying to do?’ Temperance asked.

‘Scare his grandfather into his grave,’ the friend said.

‘What?’

‘He’s nearly ninety. Until he dies I can’t claim my inheritance,’ Tredgold said as if he had a genuine grievance.

‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’ Temperance exploded. ‘I won’t be party to such an evil scheme. Take off the linen at once!’

‘I am taking it off,’ Tredgold snarled. ‘It’s not going to work. I’ll have to think of something else.’ He tossed the fabric on the floor, flung himself into a chair, and poured some more wine.

Temperance stared at the stained, crumpled cloth. She couldn’t sell it to another customer now.

‘You must pay for the goods you have spoiled,’ she said, trying to control her anger.

Tredgold laughed. ‘I’m not paying for those useless rags.’

‘I did not bring you rags. I brought you lengths of fine linen and muslin—as you requested,’ Temperance said. ‘It is you who have ruined them. You must pay for what you have played with and spoiled.’

Tredgold raised his eyebrows superciliously, allowing his gaze to move up and down Temperance’s body in an insulting assessment. Then he shrugged one shoulder. ‘Send your master to claim his dues,’ he said. He turned away from her, tilting his chair on to its back legs as he reached for the wine jug.

Temperance kicked the nearest chair leg as hard as she could. Tredgold crashed backwards with a shout of alarm. The wine jug flew into the air, its contents drenching Tredgold and splashing Temperance’s skirt. It hit the edge of the table, then smashed to the floor.

Temperance stood over Tredgold as he blinked up at her. Her heart was pounding, but she was far too angry to be afraid.

‘You will pay me,’ she said. ‘Get up and give me the money.’

Tredgold stared at her for a few seconds, then his dazed expression turned spiteful.

‘You bitch!’ he raged. ‘I’ll teach you—’

She took a step back, reaching through the slit in her skirt for her stick. She was taller than Tredgold, but under no illusion she could match his strength.

Tredgold disentangled himself from the chair and staggered to his feet. He was too dazed to move quickly. There was time for Temperance to flee, but it wasn’t in her nature to run away. She cursed her decision to come to the tavern, but she held her stick by her side and kept her watchful attention on Tredgold and his friend.

Tredgold shook his head and winced. Then, without warning, he lunged towards her.

She only just had time to lift her stick and jab him in the stomach. He swore and reeled away. He hadn’t realised she was armed.

Temperance released a jerky breath. The first victory was hers. But though the stick extended her reach, she hadn’t managed to get as much power behind her blow as she’d hoped. Tredgold wasn’t incapacitated, and now he was forewarned.

Since there was no further need to conceal the stick she held it in both hands in front of her, ready to defend herself from Tredgold’s next attack.

He came at her in a rush, faster than she’d expected, his mouth drawn back in a snarl of rage. Both fists were raised—

The next instant he was spun around and slammed back into the edge of the heavy table. The table screeched across the floorboards until it hit the end wall. The vagabond musician had come to Temperance’s aid. Now he waited, a mocking smile on his lips, for Tredgold to recover.

Tredgold leant on the table, his head bowed over his braced arms as he took several heaving breaths. Suddenly he reared up and around with a feral growl. He threw a wild punch, which the musician easily avoided. He blocked another flailing punch, then replied with a blow of his own that laid Tredgold cold on the wine-soaked floorboards.

Temperance started breathing again, her wits slowly catching up with events. She didn’t know when the musician had entered the side room. She’d only become aware of him after his lightning intervention saved her from Tredgold’s charging attack. She stared at him. He looked back at her, absently flexing his left hand, the one he’d used to hit Tredgold. Apart from that small gesture he seemed unperturbed by the brief, violent incident.

Temperance’s thoughts and emotions were in total disorder. She should be making a dignified exit from the tavern, but she kept staring at the musician. It was the first time she’d seen him standing up. He was a couple of inches taller than her own five feet ten inches. It was so rare for her to have to look up to meet a man’s eyes, she couldn’t stop looking. He was lean-limbed and graceful, but there was unmistakeable power in his broad shoulders. Even dressed only in shirt and breeches with his hair ungroomed and his chin unshaven, he was the finest figure of a man she’d ever laid eyes on.

His mouth quirked up at the corners as if he was well aware of her admiration.

She jerked her gaze away from him.

‘Cocksure,’ she muttered, annoyed with him for being so arrogant and with herself for being so easily bedazzled.

He grinned. ‘What does he owe you?’ he asked, indicating Tredgold with a nod of his head.

‘For the linen and muslin,’ Temperance replied, trying to collect her wits. Even when she was still half-dazed with shock she was determined the musician understood she was a respectable tradeswoman. ‘He ruined them.’

‘How much?’ The musician searched for and found Tredgold’s purse.

‘Hey!’ Tredgold’s friend exclaimed.

‘How much?’ The musician looked at Temperance, ignoring the half-hearted protest.

She told him, and watched as he counted out the coins in full view of Tredgold’s friend.

‘There,’ he said to the gape-mouthed youth. ‘You can tell him you witnessed a fair accounting of his debts when he recovers.’ Tredgold was already stirring and groaning. The musician dropped the purse on to his stomach and gave Temperance the price of her linen and muslin.

‘Thank you.’ She blinked at the coins, hardly able to believe she’d been paid after all.

‘And now I’ll escort you home,’ said the musician.

‘Escort me?’ Temperance looked up. ‘Oh, no, sir, there is no need—’

‘Are you not here alone? If you have an escort, he did a poor job of protecting you,’ the musician said.

‘My apprentice is sick,’ said Temperance, standing straighter as she consciously gathered her dignity and authority. ‘I will hire a link boy—’

‘Certainly,’ said the musician. ‘And I will escort you.’ He headed for the taproom as he spoke. The watching men fell back to allow him easy passage.

Temperance followed him. She had no choice. He’d created the only clear path through the room. But she couldn’t help being exasperated at the way the men parted for him just like the red sea had parted before Moses. After all, he was…

‘Just a man who doesn’t own a comb,’ she muttered. And nearly bumped into him when he stopped suddenly.

He grinned at her over his shoulder. ‘But I do have a useful left,’ he said. ‘And I’m even better with my sword. I doubt a comb would be much protection against footpads.’

Temperance opened her mouth, then closed it again. However much she wanted to put him in his place, she couldn’t forget he’d saved her from Tredgold’s attack, and made sure she was paid for the spoiled goods. She was in the musician’s debt.

She watched as he buckled on a sword belt with a brisk familiarity that suggested he was indeed competent with the weapon.