‘Now Harry,’ his mother-in-law said warningly.

He grinned. ‘Sorry, dearest.’ He eyed Millie’s winning hand with resignation. ‘As for the unusual culinary fare; I doubt they’ve had much call to cater to the gentry. This place is probably not accustomed to passing trade of that caliber. This inn caters to local people.’

‘We were lucky we came across it when we did and even luckier Mr. Fumble was so accommodating,’ Lady Hathaway observed comfortably. ‘It would have been too easy to leave the road altogether, the way the snow was coming down. John said that he couldn’t see a thing. If we had not found this place we might well have ended up in a ditch.’

When an early darkness had fallen the afternoon before, Harry had instructed their coachman, John, to head for anything with a light. The glow from The Drunken Maiden had been a beacon in the swirling snow and they had pulled up before its unpretentious door with some relief.

‘I don’t understand it. It never snows this much at this time of year,’ Isabella wailed plaintively, sitting down on the window seat once again and eyeing the uncooperative weather beyond with baleful eyes.

‘Obviously, it does,’ Millie murmured, giving her brother-in-law an evil smile. ‘Do you know Harry; you owe me half a pound? Do you want to try and win it back?’

‘There isn’t a chance in Hades I’ll be able to win it back,’ he retorted. ‘So no, Miss Hathaway, I do not want to play again. I doubt I’d win so much as a round of slapjack with you. If a career as a debutante fails to entertain you, perhaps you could succeed as a card sharp.’

‘Don’t tell her that!’ Lady Hathaway and Isabella chorused in unison.

Millie looked thoughtful and Harry shook his head at her. ‘I was jesting!’

His last words were drowned out when the door crashed open and a large, ungainly youth entered the room, his arms full of firewood. Flakes of snow fell off his shoulders as he shook himself, rather like a dog might do, Audrey reflected as she hastily made way for the new arrival. Boddy was the landlord’s only employee; the maids who were usually employed unable to present themselves at work, thanks to the weather. Mr. Fumble had said that he hadn’t expected any trade, for no sensible soul would venture out in such a storm. Boddy was a simple fellow but seemed quite in awe of the company who had arrived and Audrey had learned quite quickly that talking to him only made the poor boy more tongue tied. And clumsy. It was quite likely he’d drop the logs when he saw the amount of people gathered in the front parlor and she was reluctant to have a toe squashed again. Happily he retained his grip on his burden, merely bobbing his head awkwardly at the sight of them. Even the sullen light of the candles could not disguise the dull flush of scarlet that darkened his skin. He was extremely shy and having so many pairs of eyes upon him was obviously hard to bear.

‘Er…’ he began then stopped, at a loss.

‘Good afternoon, Boddy,’ Lady Hathaway said soothingly. ‘We’ll just move so you can put those logs down, shall we? They do look heavy.’

‘Thank ‘e,’’ Boddy mumbled, shambling forward. Audrey twisted in her chair even further for fear that she would trip him up. He seemed a perfectly amiable young fellow but he was so in awe of the guests that were staying at The Drunken Maiden that very little by way of sensible conversation could be gotten out of him. ‘Er,’ was the best he could usually do, with the occasional ‘um’ thrown in.

He dropped the wood in the large tin box with such a clatter that she winced. Kicking the logs that were already in the fire with an enormous boot, he laid a few more on top then kicked the fire again, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. With another self-conscious nod to Lady Hathaway, he shambled back out of the room with surprising speed, considering his size and closed the door with a resounding slam behind him.

‘He’s not the sort to sneak up on a fellow, now is he?’ Harry observed ruefully, massaging an ear.

‘He means well,’ Mama observed.

‘And at least there is a decent fire to be had,’ Audrey sighed, looking at the flames with gratitude. It was not what one would call warm in the room but it was a great deal warmer than it was outside. The Drunken Maiden was quite a substantial building but Harry was right, it did not cater to the gentry and smoking chimneys might have been expected, but that was not the case. There were also adequate fires in each of the bedchambers in which they had found themselves, which was a blessing. That, along with the fact that there were no other guests, meant that their situation could have been far less comfortable that it was for there was plenty of room and they were not at all crowded. If they were forced to spend several days here, a family Christmas of sorts might be possible after all. Mr. Fumble had more or less turned his entire establishment over to the family when they had arrived on his doorstep the previous evening, more than happy to do so when Harry had handed over some coin, making hospitality well worth his while for there was little enough business to be done in such weather.

With only Mr. and Mrs. Fumble in residence – poor Boddy, it seemed, slept in the stables – their needs had been readily met. There had been a bed for their coachman, John, the horses were safely stabled and, if their unexpected arrival had thrown the household into a flutter of activity, there seemed to be plenty of food. They had thought to travel again in the morning but that had proved to be impossible for the storm continued on, making the roads, such as they were, all but impassable. They were travelling in a large town coach, roomy enough to carry them all back to the Carstairs’ estate but not designed for the snowdrifts that had piled across the road. It had been exceptional weather and they had been vastly relieved to have discovered beds for the night. Waking to the news that they would not be going any further that day had come as something of a blow, however.

Mama had been right to point out how fortunate they were, Audrey reflected. They had adequate shelter, decent food and they were mostly together – Marcus and Johanna would not be joining them until the New Year anyway, as they had returned to Yorkshire several weeks before to spend the season with Johanna’s grandmother, who had been unwell – so all in all things could be a great deal worse. Audrey didn’t particularly mind that they might not reach Little Paddocks by tomorrow. It was doubtful they would be able to attend the local church for the service anyway. Actually, it was only Isabella who was fretting about their enforced stay. At six months into her confinement, Audrey suspected that Isabella wished to be surrounded by the familiar comforts of home, especially as they had stayed in London far longer than they had intended.

Audrey sighed, reflecting back on the last few months in London. It had not been particularly restful but then, her sense of inner peace had undergone a rather drastic change in the weeks following that one eventful night in August.

Initially, they had intended to abandon the capital at the end of October, just as many others were, retreating back to their country estates for the pleasures of rural life. But one thing or another had kept them in town and they had found that they rather enjoyed London after the Season was done and so many people had retreated. With Marcus’ bride, Johanna, experiencing her first visit to the city, Lady Hathaway had decided it might be enjoyable to linger. There were still plenty of entertainments to be had, she reasoned, and things would not be nearly so rushed. New dresses were ordered and delivered in a timely fashion. One did not have to queue endlessly at the theatre for refreshments and they could actually enjoy some of the attractions of the metropolis, finally having room in their social calendar to do so. They did so, but it was not without its dramas, usually caused by the youngest Miss Hathaway.