More than ever before Cass was aware of one thing-two, if she counted the musty odor of leather she'd spoken to Barron about several times, the one the whole coach stank of. Oh, and that hideous hog's head grinning at her from the inn sign opposite, which probably made it three things.
If she couldn't deal with Devorlane Hawley face to face, the time had come to do it behind his back. What better way to do it when she wasn't going to that soiree?
A bellyful of good pork and claret, after his day in court, would also mitigate Lord Koorecroft's feelings about the propriety of her recent behavior.
Seeing a portly figure lumber down the inn steps, she clasped the coach window edge with her gloved fingers.
"Lord Koorecroft? A moment, sir."
Even through the mist, the one that rose from the
