Read Online Betrayed Countess (Books We Love Historical Romance) by Diane Scott Lewis - Free Book Online Page B

threw a rag down over the puddle. “We do has the best wood floor in Cornwall. Most inns only has dirt.” She spoke as if she described a palace and looked just as proud.
    “The Welshman paid for the floor, that’s what Old Milt told me.” Dory slouched against a table examining a hangnail.
    “Is you just that addlepated? That drog Old Milt best keep his jaw to hisself.” Kerra glowered and smacked Dory’s shoulder. They both moved away into the stench of men. “Maddie don’t want no talk ’bout that, never.”
    “How about this Frenchie girl right here?” Stephen Tremayne swaggered over as Bettina wiped up the spill. The young regular’s coppery hair curled above a high forehead. His handsome face, with well-defined jaw and cheekbones, held taunting eyes he seemed to always direct at her. “Maybe it be her relatives that roam the streets, ripping out people’s hearts.”
    Bettina noticed Maddie hadn’t returned to the taproom. She stiffened when Stephen moved to stand behind her. She backed out onto the hearth to slip away, but he reached down and grasped her by the hips, jerking her toward him. When she cried out, several laughed.
    “Do not ever do that again, monsieur.” Bettina whirled around, pushed past him and stalked from the room.
    In her closet, she trembled at the man’s actions and the horrific images from France. She didn’t want to believe them. She prayed for her mother’s preservation, not to mention her uncles, aunts and cousins. Had they fared better or worse than she? How much longer would she be safe here?
     
    * * * *
     
    Maddie scribbled down figures, clicked the coins from the till and plopped two silver crowns into Bettina’s hand. She curled her fingers around them, smooth and cool, her first month’s pay. “I cannot wait to buy new clothes,” she said to Kerra.
    “You won’t be buyin’ much with that.” Kerra pocketed her coins and winked as they walked toward the back of the inn. “Best save up two month’s pay. Even that might not be enough.”
    “This is enough, is it not?” Bettina fingered the coins again. She’d planned to save a few months’ pay, buy a new gown and coach fare to London. In a large city, she’d find a better position—and be closer to France. Now her cheeks burned and she felt a fool.
    Back in her room, she jerked off the mobcap and thought of the numerous exquisite frocks she once owned and changed into for different occasions. She glared down at her dress. Scrubbing it with Maddie’s spirits of turpentine and lemon essence mixture had mottled the silk worse. The polonaise no longer resembled the gown her mother gave her. The skirt, when held up in front and sides by drawstrings, once displayed a crimped pink petticoat; it was now gray and tattered, both items as ugly as any garb seen around the inn. She ran her fingers over the material and thought of her mother. This dress had been their last link.
    “You wash that thing too much.” Kerra hovered in the doorway. “Next month, I’ll take you to the draper’s shop in Port Isaac. You might need something better for the Michaelmas dance. Someone’s bound to ask you.”
    Bettina inspected her scuffed slippers, from which her big toe would soon poke out. “ Ma foi , I do not plan to go to any dance. For Michael or anyone else.”
    When Kerra left, Bettina sat for a moment, thinking. She returned to the taproom where Maddie was polishing candle sconces. The tallow candles smelled of sizzling fat, beeswax being too expensive.
    “Madame … Maddie, where may I earn extra money? I could work on Sundays.” Bettina was willing to give up her one day of rest.
    The woman glanced over her shoulder and gave her an indulgent smile. “I’m afraid our vicar would object to that. I only open the taproom after services, just to please him. You never looked strong enough for what you do now.”
    “I can read and write, in English. There must be some way of earning more wages.”
    Maddie stopped