Jayne Fresina by Once a Rogue Read Free Book Online Page B

“I’ll take what I’m owed, Winton. Or your tailors will have more to fix than that hole in your backside.”
    “How dare you threaten me, you young rapscallion!”
    “How dare you steal from me!” After the morning he’d suffered, John’s temper was easily baited.
    “Steal?”
    “To take without paying is stealing. You’re no better than a common thief.”
    Now the old man shriveled in his chair, falling back on age and decrepitude. “To be so spoken to and threatened in my own home. What is this town coming to?”
    John held out his hand, palm up. “The coin, Winton. Give it to me, as agreed yesterday, and I’ll be on my way.”
    “I can pay you a third today and the rest at the end of the month.”
    “I’m not coming all the way back to Norwich just to collect what you owe me.”
    “Then I’ll send it.”
    “As if I’d trust you again.”
    The old man’s gaze turned sharp, greedy. His dry lips curled, showing small, pointy, yellow teeth. “A gentleman’s agreement, Carver. Is that not what you aspire to be these days, a gentleman farmer? Did you not vow to turn a new leaf? Your mother swears you’ve changed. The last time she pleaded for you, when you were up before me for brawling yet again, she promised you were a reformed man, tending the family farm, looking after her, ready to settle down. Did she lie, Carver? Did your mother perjure herself to me?”
    Squinting, trying to restrain his temper, John straightened up, hands on his hips. Winton knew all too well what the mention of his mother would do.
    “Take one quarter and you will get the rest when I have it,” Winton continued, spitting out his words, “when I am satisfied those fleeces are the quality you claim.”
    “You haven’t looked at them yet?”
    “I haven’t the time, Carver,” the old man exclaimed. “I have a wedding tomorrow.” Waving his hand weakly, he coughed. “Now get out of my house or I shall have you banned from trading in the market here. No one in this county will touch your wares, if I spread the word. I’ve ruined better men than you.”
    He knew it was true. Winton was a foul, spiteful, cunning old wretch who must have made a pact with Satan to live this long. But he was also the local Justice of the Peace and it was not wise to make him an enemy. Although most folk in Norwich hated him with a passion, they avoided confrontation and simply waited for him to die.
    “I’ll get my payment from you, Winton. One way or another.”
    The servant held the door open for him and John swept out.
    * * * *
    Lucy thought she’d heard a door slam somewhere in the house, but none of the other women noticed. Seated in a small, tidy circle, bent over their embroidery, they worked without pause, occasionally whispering to one another, but mostly silent. Turning her head, she stared at the dull sky through the solar window, betaken with a sudden whimsical idea of leaping out and stealing a ride on one of those rippled clouds.
    Even the pensive sigh she exhaled went unheard by her companions, or at least ignored. Her half-sister, Anne, kept her head bowed as she worked, her pretty eyelashes occasionally blinking, the only part of her, other than her fingers, that showed any movement. Lucy often wondered what went on inside Anne’s head and amused herself by picturing a world of bright rainbows and skipping coneys. Of course, it was more than likely that absolutely nothing went on inside that head, but there was always hope. Anne’s mother sat beside her, struggling with plump fingers to thread a needle. The other women, Lord Winton’s aged sister and two sour-faced nieces, huddled together, hands working in unison, never faltering, even when one of them flung a cold, resentful glance in Lucy’s direction.
    Horses whinnied in the yard and wheels rumbled over cobbles.
    Probably another tradesman bringing items for the wedding feast tomorrow.
    She heard a curse, whipped out low and furious. It came from directly below the