Chapter Three
Jason hadn’t slept much. Granted, he’d spent most of the night poised outside of Isabel’s bedchamber door, waiting for anything untoward. Even when Somersby had come and given him a reprieve, Jason had still been too alert to rest. It was his responsibility to ensure that Isabel was protected. He would not fail a second time.
She was being targeted for a specific reason, and the sooner they knew that reason, the sooner he’d be able to truly protect her.
He glanced at his pocket watch and noted the time. They should be leaving, but he didn’t dare enter that bedchamber again. He’d made that mistake the night before and seen her standing there wearing that dressing gown. It hadn’t revealed anything about her figure, but the sight of her with bare feet and wet hair freshly braided had left his mouth dry and his hands fidgety. The last thing he needed was to desire her. Protecting her from an unknown villain had already proved daunting. Wanting her would serve only in complicating the situation. This was the time for levelheadedness.
So instead of going into the bedchamber, he knocked and told her he was going downstairs for breakfast and they were to leave within the half hour. He was pleased when she appeared dressed and ready to depart fifteen minutes later. He was even more pleased that she was wearing something that covered her completely. Even if the dress was ill-fitting, it didn’t conjure images of her sprawled across a bed, bare toes curled into the bedcovers. Christ, what was the matter with him?
Somersby entered the room as well. “Are we ready, then?”
They rode in one of the Somersby carriages to the offices of Parliament. Potterfield, the leader of the Brotherhood, kept his office there, and damned if Jason didn’t need some guidance. He hated to explain any of this to Potterfield and risk Gabe’s reputation, but Isabel was in danger.
Isabel looked out the small curtained window of the carriage. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, her tone agitated.
“Somewhere safe,” Jason said.
“Yes, you keep saying that and then we keep moving,” she said. “Is there nowhere safe in all of London?”
Somersby’s lips quirked in a grin and Jason kicked his boot, which caused Somersby to chuckle.
“There are tunnels beneath the city, namely ones that connect Buckingham to Westminster and Parliament. They are used to keep Queen Victoria safe at times. You shall be safe there, too,” Jason said.
She frowned. “I don’t understand. You have access to such areas?”
Jason and Somersby exchanged a look, and Somersby nodded. “We work for the Crown,” he said.
“I see.”
The carriage stopped, and they descended the stairs. “We’ll leave the rig in the carriage house for when we return,” Jason said. He held out his hand to Isabel, but she didn’t immediately accept it. “Your aunt trusted me enough to leave you in my care,” Jason reminded her.
“Lord Lynford, he, too, works for the Crown?” she asked.
“He does.”
She paused for several moments, then asked, “Am I in trouble?”
“Isabel, we are members of the queen’s private police, of sorts. We are here only to protect you,” Jason said.
She nodded, seemingly reluctant to meet his eyes, but she did give him her hand.
“For security purposes, we’re going to need you to close your eyes. I won’t resort to blindfolding you,” Jason said. “I trust you’ll adhere to our wishes.”
“Of course,” she said and complied. Jason took her hand and led her forward out of the carriage house. They made their way to the alley and into the small offices that had one of the entrances to the tunnels. He instructed her to descend a flight of stairs and step through a doorway. The air around them was chilly. The rough stone walls were barely lit by candles hung from wall sconces. Jason heard his voice echo as he directed her steps.
“You can open your eyes now,” Jason said.
Two other gentlemen trusted by the Brotherhood guarded a doorway that led off the long tunnel.
“You stay here with these men, and I shall return shortly.”
“And if I refuse?” she asked.
“Where shall you go?” he asked.
She opened her mouth then shut it with a frown. “I don’t appreciate being dragged all around London.” She exhaled slowly. “I feel much safer next to you.”
“Duly noted.” He gave her a tight nod. “Consider that I am trying to figure out precisely why you’re in danger. Hopefully, we’ll know something soon.”
She exhaled. “Very well. I shall wait for you here.” She eyed the large men guarding the entrance of the tunnel, then grabbed onto Jason’s sleeve. “Are they safe?”
“I would trust them with my mother’s life,” he said.
She frowned. “You do like your mother, yes?”
He very nearly touched her before walking away. Just a brush of her cheek or a squeeze of her hand, something to reassure her, but he didn’t do that sort of thing. So he refused to turn back and glance at her as he left the tunnel.
He met Somersby at the hidden door that led directly from the tunnels into a secret room in Parliament. They made their way to Sir Potterfield’s office, but were told to wait inside and he’d join them in a moment as he had stepped out briefly. Two other members of the Brotherhood, St. Giles and Reacher, also waited within.
They exchanged niceties but didn’t have to wait long before Potterfield entered through the door at the back of his office. “Follow me, if you would,” he said, holding the door open for them.
Jason stepped into a meeting room with the other men on his heels. Not ten minutes later, they were told that Lynford had arrived and was waiting in the outer office.
“I was not aware a reunion had been assembled,” Jason said.
“Lynford,” Potterfield said, his tone a mixture of relief and irritation. “What have you done to yourself?” Lynford’s arm was wrapped in a makeshift sling.
“Shot, sir. By Lord Thornton.”
Potterfield’s brows rose. “So he is not dead. As you had said.”
“It would seem not,” Lynford said. He turned to Jason. “Where is Isabel?”
“She is downstairs, in the tunnels, safe,” Jason said.
Lynford shook his head and swore. “The tunnels are not safe.”
Jason’s gut tightened and he swore. “What do you mean? Have the tunnels been compromised?”
“It would seem so,” Lynford said. “I discovered notes in Thornton’s belongings, including drawings of the tunnels.”
“How the devil did he get those?” Somersby asked.
“I have no idea,” Lynford said.
“It is unlikely he’s the only one who has them,” Somersby said.
Potterfield held up one hand. “Who is this Isabel? And precisely why are we suddenly protecting her?”
Lynford cleared his throat. “Until yesterday I was not certain who she was, but her aunt and I turned up evidence that indicates she is the lost princess of Saldania.”
Isabel? A lost princess? That certainly would explain why people would be after her, if they knew of her true identity.
Potterfield swore. It was unusual for him to speak without decorum. “Somersby, go and make certain Her Majesty is secured. Ellis and Lynford, you stay here. The rest of you find the princess. Do not allow that girl out of your sight.”
“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d prefer to continue watching her myself,” Jason said.
“In a moment. For now, she’ll be safe with them,” Potterfield said. He motioned to the men standing. “Move, this new information has put our queen in immediate danger.”
Jason came to his feet. He didn’t want to stay and listen to Potterfield, he wanted to go and see to Isabel himself. Get her out of there and know she was protected, but he also knew that Potterfield would not have asked him to stay unless the information he had was crucial. “What is going on?” Jason asked.
Potterfield waited until the other men had left the room. “I think I know what all of this is about.” He paced the length of the room before settling into one of the chairs.
“All? Meaning what?” Jason asked.
“The assassination attempt. The lost princess. Everything being connected to Thornton. You mentioned this Isabel is Thornton’s niece?” Potterfield made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
“That is what she has always been told, and he paid for her schooling,” Lynford said. “Up until recently when an anonymous benefactor took over the payments.”
“They had hidden her here all along,” Potterfield said. He swiped his hand down his face. “When everyone assumed she’d been murdered with the rest of the royal family.”
“The heir to the Saldanian throne has claim to England’s throne as well?” Lynford asked.
Potterfield nodded.
“Yes, but Victoria has already been coronated. Would these fools expect her to abdicate the throne to hand it over to Isabel?” Jason asked. “That is, provided that their assassination attempts fail?”
Potterfield shook his head. “Several months ago, there was some correspondence intercepted between King Ernest Augustus of Hanover and some of his supporters, those who think he should be the rightful heir to the throne of England.”
“Ridiculous,” Lynford said.
“Indeed,” Potterfield said. “But dangerous thinking nonetheless.”
“Is the king himself involved in such thinking?” Lynford asked.
“No, but I doubt he would deny the throne if someone rightfully offered it to him,” Potterfield said.
“What do they hope to accomplish with Isabel?” Jason asked.
“It is true that she herself has a legitimate claim to the throne,” Potterfield said. “But were she married off to Ernest Augustus’s son, it could create a strong union.”
“I believe Somersby said that Victoria herself had already refused interest in marrying George,” Lynford said.
Potterfield thrummed his fingers on the back of his chair. “They are frustrated because even though Victoria is young, they are unable to control her.”
“These people already had their hands on Isabel once,” Jason said.
Potterfield’s brows rose.
“They took her from my townhome, but I was able to track them quickly and save her.”
“It would seem that you had the foresight to know the girl needed protection. Well done,” Potterfield said.
Jason nodded. “It was Lynford, sir, he explained that Isabel needed protection.” He couldn’t take credit for something he hadn’t done himself.
“Indeed. It seems forcing a union between Isabel and George would almost guarantee another threat on Victoria’s life,” Lynford said.
“I won’t make the same mistake again.” Jason came to his feet. “I’ll keep the princess protected. They will not find Isabel. The rest of you can keep Victoria safe.”
“Where will you go?” Potterfield asked.
He had no notion of where he’d go, but he’d think of something. “I’ll send word when we get there,” Jason said.
Potterfield nodded. “I need only know you are safe. You are the best tracker and rider the Brotherhood has. I know you’ll do what is necessary to make certain you aren’t followed, but I would be remiss not to remind you of the stakes.”
“Find the bastards who are planning this so I can eventually return home,” Jason said.
A princess.
He doubled his speed returning to the tunnels hidden beneath the streets of London. What the devil was he supposed to do now? It was his duty to protect her. Hell, he was supposed to protect England’s royal family, and now he had another princess on his hands, and one who didn’t even know she was a princess. Things had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes. And on top of that he’d stashed her in the tunnels, an area they now believed was unsafe.
She still stood where he’d left her, although she was pacing the tight confines, now guarded by four members of the Brotherhood.
“We have to leave now,” he said, grabbing her elbow.
He practically dragged Isabel through the tunnels until they reached the exit. Security be damned, the tunnels were already compromised. They raced to the carriage house, and Jason barked orders to the driver, then nearly tossed her into a carriage right before it jerked forward.
“Jason, what is happening?”
“You are in far more danger than we first thought,” he said. How was he supposed to explain all of this to her? He certainly knew what it was like to discover that you weren’t at all who you thought you were. Discovering he was a bastard had changed everything for him. “And, as it turns out, you weren’t safe down in the tunnels.” He swore. Damned if he couldn’t get things right.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
He rubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t even know how to tell you this. Frankly, I don’t think I should be the one, but I’m all you’ve got right now. Have you ever heard of Saldania?”
She frowned. “I do not believe so.”
“It’s a small island nation off the coast of Wales. Their monarch was also in line for the English Crown. Seventeen years ago there was a coup and the entire royal family was murdered.”
“I don’t understand.” She shook her head and two loose curls fell onto her forehead. “What does this have to do with me?”
“One member of the family got off the island.” He looked at her face, and her mossy green eyes stared back at him. “Isabel, you are the lost princess of Saldania.”
Her brow furrowed. “What?” Her hand went to her throat, then she slowly shook her head. “No, that’s impossible.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I am no one. Discarded at a school.”
She wasn’t taking the news well, and he certainly couldn’t blame her. But he’d have to convince her, make her understand somehow the real danger she was in. “Do you have a birthmark on your hip? A wine-stain birthmark?”
Her hand absently went to her right hip. “How did you know?”
“Lynford said that every Saldanian royal for the last two hundred years has borne the mark. You have it, then?”
“Yes.” She was quiet for several moments. “This doesn’t make any sense. If I’m from this island, who smuggled me off while my family was murdered? How did I get here? How did I end up in Thornton’s care? Why was I in his care? Am I truly his niece?”
“All questions for later as I don’t have the answers.” He opened the small curtain on the carriage window a sliver. He needed to stay vigilant and watch for pursuers. “For now, we have to get out of London. Later, when we know you are safe, we can find out more about your situation and your family.” He wasn’t certain why he’d said “we” when he’d likely not be involved with her protection too much longer. Although he’d asked to continue protecting her, Jason knew that Potterfield would come up with a different solution should he require Jason elsewhere.
“Because people believe I’m this lost princess, they want to kill me?” Her frown deepened. “Are they the same people who killed my…the rest of the royal family?”
“Not exactly. People want to marry you to someone to form a powerful political union to overtake the monarchy here. They want Victoria out and you in.”
“They want me to be queen? That’s preposterous! And I certainly don’t want to do that.” She shook her head again. “Can we not simply pretend that I’m not the princess? That this is a case of mistaken identity? I mean, I don’t even know how to be a princess. I do not want to marry someone I don’t even know, especially for political reasons. I merely want to be Isabel Crisp.”
He had to stop himself before he reached out to touch her, to comfort her. He was protecting her and thus protecting Victoria. That was all this was about. He did not comfort people. “It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.” He peeked out the window of the carriage once more and noted it had started to rain. That would slow them down, but also make it more difficult for them to be followed. “These people are not to be reasoned with.”
…
Isabel leaned back against the carriage seat. For the second time in as many days, her eyes pricked with tears. She was not a crier, never had been. She simply absorbed whatever fate brought her and carried on with her life as usual. If things were particularly trying, she would simply work her body until she was so fatigued that sleep would engulf her. Back at St. Bart’s, she had spent plenty of time scrubbing the floors, and sometimes the walls, merely to distract herself into exhaustion. But this news, what could possibly distract her from such a revelation?
A princess.
She was a long-lost princess. How was that even possible? And although she didn’t remember her parents, she felt as if she’d just lost them. The realization that they’d been slaughtered seemed to make them real to her in a way they hadn’t been before. That was foolish, though. She couldn’t very well mourn people she hadn’t even known.
Not only that, but she didn’t know the first thing about being a princess, nor did she want to. She couldn’t be someone’s governess if she was a princess. Yet she had no throne, no money to speak of, at least as far as she knew. How had her entire life changed with one simple sentence?
You are the lost princess of Saldania.
As if that unlikely surprise didn’t complicate things enough, now someone wanted to marry her off in some political union. She knew that was the way things were done much of the time, a barter of land or funds for a better name or station in life. But she had always assumed her status as an illegitimate daughter of some unknown lord would protect her from such an arrangement. Her position in life had not offered her many advantages, but at least it had protected her from such machinations.
Yes, she wanted to get married, she’d always wanted to, to have her own family, but she’d thought those things out of her reach. Foolishly, though, she had always wished for a family life on her own terms. She’d thought her lack of status would enable her to marry for love, or at the very least friendship and companionship. It was nearly laughable. Perhaps someday she’d be able to enjoy a chuckle about the silly girl she’d been, believing she was an illegitimate daughter of some aristocratic parentage only to discover she was a princess.
She glanced at the man in the carriage seat across from her. He leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, but she knew he didn’t actually sleep. His breathing wasn’t deep enough, and concern still tensed his brow.
“I won’t agree to it,” she said aloud. “To any of it. I don’t want to marry a stranger. I don’t want to be a princess. And I most certainly do not want to be queen.”
His eyes flickered open. “It is not that simple, Isabel. Politics never are,” Jason said. His tone was soft and warm, and she almost allowed it to soothe her.
“But certainly Saldania has a ruler now,” she said. “I am nineteen. I doubt the entire country has been in mourning for my family and not done anything to continue with their government. Whoever is the ruler now, I’m certain he or she must not want anything to do with me.”
“Indeed. Saldania is currently ruled by Randall Winston, Lord Protector. He was a soldier in the revolution.”
Everything inside of her went cold. “He fought in the revolution?”
“Yes.”
“Then he is partially responsible for my family’s death.” The words came out as a whisper. The fact that she had never known her family, that she had known nothing of their existence mere hours ago, mattered not. She still felt something harden inside of her.
“Yes,” Jason said simply.
“Then there is nothing waiting for me in Saldania, save a most certain death.”
“I’m told that most of the people in Saldania are pleased with Lord Winston. Though he was initially a part of the revolution, he has done much for the country and now leads much in the way our prime minister leads, though admittedly he has many opponents as well. There are people, particularly among the Saldanian peerage, who would prefer you on the throne, especially if you were married to the man of their choice.”
Saldania.
She rolled the word around in her head, waiting for it to conjure something in her memory, but nothing came. Would she be expected to return? To rule a nation she’d never even known existed? Certainly not. She wouldn’t even be able to locate the island on a map.
She mulled over the idea for a moment. There were people, people in the country of her birth, who wanted her on the throne. Who wanted her to rule. “So the entire country knows I survived? They all knew I was out there somewhere, and they’ve been waiting for me to return and take my place on their throne? Meanwhile I was here, in London, believing I was the bastard child of an aristocrat?” Her questions came out fast and furious.
“It is unclear, at least to me, how many people knew of your existence. I suspect you were hidden at the school in London for this precise reason,” Jason said.
When she thought of Saldania—a country she hadn’t even heard of yesterday—she felt no attachment, no pride. No sense of obligation to its people.
She shook her head, more firmly this time. “No. I will simply not do it.”
“You may not have a choice.”
“I will if they can’t find me. I’ll go into hiding.”
People might know that there was a princess who survived, but that didn’t mean they knew she was the one. She couldn’t be the only girl of the right age to bear the mark of the Saldanian royal family. Couldn’t she simply hide out in the country and pretend to be someone else? She certainly had had eighteen years of believing she wasn’t anyone special. It seemed she could continue along that path. And if her wine-stain birthmark was the only thing that identified her as the Saldanian princess, then that shouldn’t be a problem. It was hidden beneath her clothes at all times.
Jason leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He had remarkable stability despite the rocking of the carriage. She had to brace her hand against the seat to keep from shifting side to side.
“You need to understand that this plan has likely been in place since they discovered your existence,” he said. “The people behind this have gone to great lengths to see this come to fruition. They have killed people, Isabel. They tried to kill Queen Victoria. Do you truly think there is anything you can do to dissuade them? You hiding?” He shook his head. “They would find you. Our only hope is to identify them and bring them to justice.”
If Jason were right, then the people who wanted her for this political union wouldn’t give up so easily. She’d likely not even be safe if she traveled all the way to America. Not only that, but she hadn’t a pence to her name, so there was no way she’d be booking passage anywhere. She could sneak aboard a ship, but there were always stories about people who did such things and how they met a terrible demise. The headlines in all the broadsheets would read about how the penniless Princess of Saldania had been tossed overboard after being discovered stealing bread.
“If they found me and forced me to marry this man, whoever he is, then what would happen?”
He looked away from her.
“Jason, I have a right to know.”
He was quiet for a moment before answering. “First, they would put you on the throne in Saldania. I’m sure they already have enough support in Saldania for that. You would be a mere figurehead. Your husband would have the real power. After a few months, they would likely make another attempt on Victoria’s life. At the least, they would petition to revoke her Crown and grant it to the two of you,” Jason said, the muscles along his jaw tightening with each word. “But I doubt they would waste time with that. Most likely, they would simply assassinate Victoria. With her out of the way, England would need a new leader. You and your husband would be the most obvious choice.”
He was silent for a moment, giving his words time to sink in, studying her, maybe even wondering whether this plan held any appeal to her.
It did not.
“But it won’t come to that, will it?” she asked. “It must not come to that. You won’t let it.”
His lips twitched, and for an instant, she thought her answer must have pleased him, but then his expression grew serious again. “No. The Brotherhood will not allow the queen to be assassinated.”
Isabel knew Queen Victoria had an entire force of men protecting her, but she realized she had a greater opportunity here—she could protect not only Victoria herself, but the Crown of England.
She could…what did they call it? Abdicate the throne, that was it. She would turn it down. Show that Lord Protector who’d killed her family that she had no desire to take power from him. Although she knew it wasn’t that simple, Jason was right. They’d never simply let her disappear. But she refused to play a part in a plan that would kill Queen Victoria. It was treason, and she wouldn’t be a willing participant, and in truth she’d do whatever it took to avoid playing a role on any level.
Jason peered out the window, then checked his pocket watch.
“Where are we going?” she asked. She had no notion of where they were, although judging from the quiet of their surroundings, they were quite far from London.
“One of my country estates, one that isn’t well known or used much. We should be safe there while I figure out how to keep you protected long term,” Jason said.
She eyed her companion. He held the small curtain aside with one finger, watching the landscape pass as the carriage rumbled along. He was handsome, rather alarmingly so, if she were honest. From his short-cropped brown hair to his perfectly shaped aristocratic nose to his chiseled jawline to the startling cerulean of his eyes, he was the very picture of a dashing gentleman. He looked as if he belonged more in the center of a crowded ballroom than here in this tiny carriage with her.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
His shrewd blue eyes met hers. “It is my duty to protect. I work for the Crown of England. You are now involved and therefore deserve protection.”
She nodded.
“It is strange to wake up and believe one thing about yourself, then end the day realizing you are someone else entirely,” she said.
His eyes bore into hers. “Yes, it is.”
And she would have sworn that he truly understood. Not only that he commiserated, but that he knew precisely what she meant. It was on her tongue to ask him if he truly did understand, but he let the curtain fall back into place, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
About half an hour later, Jason rapped on the roof of the carriage, and it rolled to a stop. “We’ll have to stop here for the night as my estate is still another day’s ride away.”
“Another day? ’Tis far away.”
“Yes.” He withdrew from the carriage then held a hand up to her. “Nearly to the Scottish border.”
Relief swam through her. Certainly, she’d be more difficult to find this far north of London. She’d never been out of the city, and she longed to see the landscape, but darkness had fallen. All she could make out behind them were the shadows of lines of trees.
…
After she’d peppered him with questions about Saldania and the plot to usurp the throne, Jason had pretended to sleep. It had been better than continuing with the conversation lest he reveal to her how deadly the situation was. He had no doubt that once the men behind this traitorous plan got her married and safely on the throne next to her husband, Isabel would be quietly murdered. Jason didn’t want to terrify her.
Jason stretched outside of the carriage before he assisted Isabel to the ground. The sign hanging by the front gate wobbled in the wind, and the sharp scent of rain hung heavy in the air.
“A storm is coming.” Jason nodded toward the inn. He glanced at the Tudor-style building with fresh eyes, seeing it perhaps as Isabel did. The half-timbered, black-and-white building was showing its age, but the grounds were clean and tidy and, other than the handful of missing bricks from the far right chimney, it was in decent shape. “Might not be much, but we can at least stay dry. They should also have something we can eat.”
Her stomach growled in response, and she gave him a shy grin. “That would be quite nice.”
Several fat drops fell onto them. Thankfully, a groom jogged out to greet them. Jason gave the man instructions about the horses before accompanying Isabel inside the inn.
Jason had stayed at The Boar and the Hound on more than one occasion when traveling to his family’s estate in Northumberland. It was not the most luxurious of inns, but it was clean, and the food was decent. He certainly hoped it would meet Isabel’s approval. Granted she’d been raised in a school, not in a palace as she should have been, and he already knew her standards were low considering she’d asked him to put her in the servants’ quarters.
The tavern on the first floor of the inn already hummed with activity and people. No doubt the oncoming storm had forced more than a few to stop here for at least a meal in hopes of avoiding a drenching. Two barmaids skirted the tables, passing out bowls of steaming food as well as tankards of ale. Several road-worn travelers huddled at said tables, eating and drinking, but everything seemed to stop when Jason and Isabel stepped inside. As if they could tell Isabel was royalty, people turned to stare.
Of course, Isabel was strikingly beautiful, more so than most women. She had an exotic beauty about her with a naturally darker complexion than was typical of English-bred ladies. That combined with her chestnut hair made her sea-green eyes stand out and beg people to look at them.
She leaned closer to him. “Why are they staring at you?” she asked.
“I believe it is you who has caught their gaze.”
Her hand went absently to her head, patted her hair. “I certainly have no notion as to why. Do I look a fright?”
Jason chuckled. The innkeeper stepped over to them before Jason could answer her.
Recognition lit in the old man’s wizened face. “Ah, Lord Ellis, how nice to see you again.”
“And you, sir. I need a room,” Jason said.
“Yes, a storm’s coming. Been brewing out there all day. I suspect it’ll be a strong one, too, judging by all the customers tonight.” He nodded toward the full tavern, then he seemed to notice Isabel for the first time, and his wiry white eyebrows rose as he quickly looked from Isabel, then back to Jason. “Of course, my lord. This way.” He led them through the tavern and up to the bar area where he managed all manner of duties for the inn. He flipped open a large book, then glanced up. “Only one room, then?” There was insinuation in his voice, although his posture and expression remained respectful.
Jason nodded. “Yes, only one. This is my niece. I intend to ensure her protection. Perhaps an extra blanket or two so I can make myself comfortable on the floor.”
“Yes, of course.” The man bobbed his head several times, then bent behind the bar and came back with a key. “Nicest room we have, my lord, and the largest. I’ll bring up extra bedding directly.”