The Nightingale Legacy by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

beard to cover it. What do you think?”
    “I think that I must first take a long look at this weak chin before recommending hair.”
    “There will be no need of that, sir. When Mr. Mackie comes back with the doctor, why, he will quack Owen with some sort of tonic and we’ll be on our way tomorrow again.”
    “May I ask where you are going, ma’am?”
    “To Cornwall.”
    He waited, a dark brow raised in silent question.
    “I would just as soon not reveal everything to you, sir. Indeed, I can’t believe I already told you so very much. You’re a complete stranger. I don’t know you. You could be dangerous. You could have accomplices waiting outside the inn for a sign from you.”
    “Yes,” he said. “All of those things.”
    He said nothing more, merely looked straight ahead into the glowing embers. He looked perfectly relaxed, perfectly at his ease. She had the feeling that it didn’t matter to him if she were there or not. He would have looked and acted and felt just the same. She said, “You’re alone, aren’t you? There’s no one waiting outside.”
    “Yes, I’m quite alone.”
    Then she heard herself say, “My name isn’t Miss Smith.”
    Slowly he turned his head to look at her. “No,” he said. “You said it wasn’t.”
    “It’s Jones.”
    He stared at her. Then he smiled. It was a small stretching of his mouth, then it became a real smile. Then he laughed.
    That laugh sounded wonderful, and she heard herself saying without hesitation, “There’s more to it than just Jones, but again, I don’t think I would be wise to tell you. I really don’t understand it. You aren’t ordering me or asking me or pleading with me to tell you anything and yet I just open my mouth and everything comes out. It’s very disconcerting. You are a dangerous man.”
    “Then it is just as well we stay with Smith, although Miss Smith isn’t all that inspiring, but then again, neither is Miss Jones.”
    “Who are you, sir?”
    “I? Why, I’m Chilton.”
    “What Chilton? What sort of Chilton? Mr. Tewksberry called you ‘my lord.”’
    “Yes, he did, therefore Lord Chilton fits me quite as well as my socks. I’ve been here a good half dozen times. Tewksberry likes to have a gentleman occasionally grace his hearth. I believe he thought the strumpet on Mackie’s lap might give me a disgust of his inn. He was quite ready and eager to grab your ear and haul you out into the night.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “To London, actually. I have business matters to see to. But that can’t interest you, Miss Smith. Now, here’s your tea. Why don’t you drink it in peace and I’ll go see if your weak-chinned brother is still among the breathing.”
    “Oh, no!” She jumped to her feet, oversetting the teacup. She watched the tea flow over the side of the table onto her skirt.
    “I beg your pardon, Miss Smith?”
    “My brother wouldn’t want to see you. You’re a stranger, please, you might frighten him and he might have a seizure or something, so please, sir, don’t—”
    He sat again, looking calm and bored and really, truth be told, indifferent. “Tewksberry,” he called out, “another cup of tea, please, and a cloth. Miss Smith has been attempting to launder her gown.”
    “Thank you,” she said. He merely nodded, paying her no more attention. Again, she heard herself say with no hesitation at all, “It isn’t really that my brother would have a seizure or faint at the sight of you, a strange man. It’s just that he might spit out everything and that wouldn’t be good.”
    “Just as you’re spitting to me right now, Miss Smith?”
    “Oh dear, perhaps I am but I don’t want to. It’s just that I must continually catch myself at the very verge of spitting. I don’t understand it.”
    “Perhaps you’re Catholic and I remind you of a priest from your childhood?”
    “Oh no, not at all. Every priest I’ve ever seen looked pale from being indoors too much and, well, ineffectual, I’d say,