In the Barrister's Bed by Tina Gabrielle Page B

laborers, farmers, and local tradesmen, whose voices and laughter resounded in the small space. Barmaids scurried through the room, tankards of ale or cups of gin balanced on their trays. A handful of other women lingered at the occupied tables, and judging by their rouged lips, brazen smiles, and low-necked dresses, Bella suspected they earned their living selling their bodies to travelers who passed through the inn.
    The door closed behind them, and Bella’s heart hammered in her chest. The pungent stench of sweat, boiled cabbage, and smoke made bile rise up in her throat.
    James put her hand on his sleeve and wove his way to the bar. They passed a table of men holding cards, who eyed Bella with lascivious interest. One of the players, a drunken man with a bald head and a black patch covering one eye, leered at her, his lips twisting into a fearful grimace.
    Repulsed, Bella inched closer to James and tightened her grip on his sleeve. He pulled out an empty bar stool. “Sit until I can spot Reeves.”
    The bartender approached, and James ordered two cups of ale. Turning his back to the bar, he surveyed the room above the rim of his tankard.
    “I don’t see him,” she said.
    “I’ve no doubt he’s here.”
    As Bella scanned the common room, the door opened and a group of eight men entered. Dressed in mended corduroy jackets and patched trousers, they looked like farmers passing through with their goods. They made their way to an empty table in the center of the room. One of them held back. He was dressed differently in simple trousers and a blue cotton shirt, which proclaimed he was not with the group of farmers, but nonetheless, his attire was nondescript enough to fit in with the other bar patrons. He wore a hat with its curled brim pulled down, but something about his mannerisms and stance was disturbingly familiar... .
    “I see Reeves,” James said, interrupting her thoughts.
    Bella’s head turned to follow his stare and all thoughts of the stranger were forgotten as she too spotted Reeves in the corner, his back to them. She slid from the stool and followed James closely as he elbowed his way through the crowd. He grasped the man firmly on the shoulder from behind.
    Reeves jumped and whirled around. “What the hell—”
    Clearly deep into his cups, it took him several seconds before his eyes widened in recognition. His attire was slovenly, his shirtfront stained, with missing buttons. His bloodshot eyes traveled from James to Bella before returning to James. Bella couldn’t fathom he was the same man who had sold her Wyndmoor Manor. Sir Redmond Reeves had presented himself with a dapper top hat and cane accompanied by a sense of snobbery so frequently associated with a man of his rank. This Sir Reeves before her looked like a criminal drunkard from the rookeries.
    “Your Grace,” Reeves said. “What an unexpected surprise.”
    James led Bella around and held a chair for her, taking for himself the one across from Reeves.
    “Did you honestly believe you could get away with such a scheme?” James asked.
    “Whatever do you mean?” Reeves asked.
    “Apologize to the lady.” James’s voice, though quiet, had an ominous quality.
    Bella spoke up. “Why would you do such a thing as to sell the same property twice?”
    “I fell upon bad times,” Reeves whined.
    “That’s your excuse?” James said.
    “You must understand,” Reeves pleaded. “I had a solid streak of luck at the gaming tables when I was last in London. I was at the same table as the old Duke of Blackwood when he said that he wanted to sell a property in Hertfordshire. I was up a bloody fortune at the time, and I thought it a good investment. Afterwards, my luck at the tables changed, and I was hounded by a bloodthirsty moneylender. Rather than lose an arm, I sold Wyndmoor Manor to the widow here.”
    “Then what possessed you to sell it to Blackwood, too?” Bella asked.
    “I thought it would be sufficient to cover my debts, but the