Julia London Read Online Free Page B

defame Lord Darfield again, for I am quite certain I will cause you bodily injury. Now, I am going to retrieve my satchel from the coach and go to bed. Please have
another
pie and more ale. I would not want you to spread your vicious lies on an empty stomach,” she said, and turned abruptly from the table.
    She was so livid she marched right into the middle of the common room without so much as a glance about and, with her hands on her hips, searched for Mannheim. Finally she spotted him across the crowded room, sitting at a table with the driver behind several empty tankards. He saw her at the same time and stood uncertainly, grasping the table for support.
    “Something wrong, miss?” he asked when she had finally pushed her way through the crowd and to his table.
    “Mr. Mannheim, if you would be so kind, I require a small green satchel I left in the coach,” she said stiffly.
    The man slid his bloodshot gaze to the driver, who had yet to look at Abbey, and then back to her. He swallowed an ale-soaked belch as he seemed to consider her request and slowly let go his grip on the table.
    “Yes, mum,” he muttered, and pushed past her toward the door. Abbey stood firmly rooted to her spot, her hands on her hips, and her chest heaving with each furious breath, oblivious to the chaos around her. Good
God
, she hoped Michael would come for her in the morning; her return to England was
not
getting off to a very good start.
    As her temper began to cool, she gradually became aware that the din had lessened and had the awful feeling that all eyes were upon her. She turned slowly to look over her shoulder, her eyes widening slightly at the sight that greeted her. Several men at the dart board had stopped their play and were sheepishly staring at her behind the broad back of a very large, very ugly man. He was looking at her with a leer on his lips that made her want to poke out both his eyes. She turned to face him and folded her arms across her middle. The fingers of one hand drummed her arm as she angrily stared right back.
    The men did not intimidate her. She had been in plenty of inns such as this with her father and had seen much worse in different corners of the world. In Virginia she and her aunt and cousins often had been in situations in which they were the only females.
    She was about to ask the men to kindly stop ogling her when Mannheim shoved through the door, shaking the snow from his threadbare coat and clutching her satchel. His glazed eyes grew wide with fear when he realized the men were engaged in something of a silent standoff with Abbey. He hurriedly made his way through them and hastily thrust the satchel at her.
    “Best git upstairs, miss,” he mumbled, and surreptitiously eyed the men from the corner of his eye.
    “Thank you, I believe I will do just that,” she snapped. She had taken two steps toward the stairs when the big, ugly man stepped deliberately in her path. Abbey stared at his barrel chest, then squared her shoulders and looked up at him.
    “Please excuse me, sir,” she said coolly. He grinned; she recoiled at the stench of his breath.
    “Eh, Danny. The lass wants you to
egg-scuse
her,” someone called, and they all snickered. That made Abbey angry. Men could be so childish!
    “Me and the lads want you to join us for a game,” Danny said, brazenly shifting his gaze to her bodice.
    Abbey stiffened; she
hated
the lewd look in his eye. Why did men always have to look at her so? Unbeknownst to her, the well-dressed man from the private dining room had moved to the common area, and watched her from the shadows beneath the stairs. When Danny stepped in front of her, he took a step forward.
    “I am really very tired,” she said, and stepped sideways, intent on going around him. Danny matched her movement and blocked her path again. Behind him, the men snickered disparaging comments to one another.
    “Leave her be. She belongs to the marquis, she does,” Mannheim said.
    Danny slid little