Edith Layton by Gypsy Lover Read Free Book Online Page A

from running to the tap, the kitchens, and back to the tables. Meg hoped her hands were cleaner than her apron. Service was not only cheaper here than at the two more popular inns, it was definitely more casual.
    “I never talked to no fiancée,” the woman said. She focused on Meg as though seeing her for the first time. Meg put up her chin, hoping a well-bred air of affront at being evaluated so openly would make up for her being alone and in such plain, unfashionable clothing.
    It must have done, the woman’s face grew a poorly concealed look of cunning, as she asked, “So he’s after her, too? I suppose there’s a reward?”
    Meg’s hopes rose. “Yes, there is. Have you heard about her?”
    “I may have,” the woman said evasively. “Not like I know nothing exactly, o’course. But I hear things. Lemme think on a bit. I’ll be back with your soup, and by then mebbe—who knows?—I’ll have some information for you, too.”
    By the time the woman returned, Meg was more starved for news than for her dinner.
    “Uh huh,” the woman said quietly as she put the bowl of soup down in front of Meg. “I heared something. Not saying as to how I’m disobliging, miss, but I gotta see the color of your coin first, if you know what I mean.” She gave Meg a look that showed she wondered if she could pay for her dinner, much less information.
    “Oh, yes,” Meg said. “And wouldn’t I be the fool to show my money before getting anything for it? I lost quite a bit on the way down here by doing just that,” she added in her loftiest accents. “But I am, you might say, a downier pigeon than that now, thank you. I do learn from my mistakes. I pay when I’m convinced there’s something to pay for. So. What can you tell me?”
    She fell still, hoping she’d be taken for a wealthy eccentric. She had some money to pay for information, but never much.
    The woman frowned, then shrugged. She leaned down as if rearranging Meg’s tableware and lowered her voice, “Well, see, right after I talked to you, I heared these three fellas at the tap talking about a runaway heiress and suchlike. So I just went and asked them a thing or two, and they got shifty. Meaning they won’t tell me nothing, ’cause they know I got nothing, so they got nothing to gain from it, see? But then I told them you was looking to know more, and that you offered money, too. So what I can do is show you who they are and you can ask them yourself. But not for nothing.” She straightened, and waited.
    Meg dug into her purse and produced a coin, large enough for her to regret, small enough to make the serving woman frown.
    But the woman took it and dropped it into her apron pocket. “Listen,” she said. “I gotta work now. I’ll pass the word, and come back and tell you when they’re ready for you.”
    The soup was salty and thin. The roast that came next was tough and stringy, and the gray lumps accompanying it might have been vegetables before they were cooked into total submission. Meg didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to peer into the corners of the taproom. If she got a hint of Rosie’s whereabouts she could leave this dismal place as the sun rose and get on with her hunt.
    The parlor slowly emptied of diners. Meg could see men straggling out of the tap, too. The hour was growing late; she was tired from a day of traveling. But she couldn’t leave the room, much less close an eye, if there were a chance she’d learn more about Rosalind.
    When everyone had left the parlor, and when Meg was about to march upstairs, convinced she’d beenfleeced, the serving woman appeared again. She looked furtive. Meg’s hopes rose again.
    “All right,” the woman said. “Go on in to the tap. Them is the three at the table toward the corner by the window. Ain’t many left in there now, you can’t miss them.” She hurried away.
    Meg went into the tap and looked around. It had been less inviting than the parlor. It was more so now. The smell of