Lady Bess by Claudy Conn Page A

going to go and wash up, and Bess laughed to say she would be right behind her. However, instead of going immediately inside, she noticed a lovely little footpath that led towards a garden bed of herbs and went to have a look. While she was inspecting the various herbs, a brightly painted covered wagon of yellow and green caught her eye. It was parked near the L-shaped drive that led away from the courtyard of the inn and flanked a thick forest of trees, where it forked onto a narrow country road. The sight of the Gypsy wagon made Bess think a carnival was nearby, so she meandered towards it. However, just at that moment, coming from the back of the inn on another footpath was a Gypsy, and something about his appearance made her hesitate.
    The Gypsy wore a dark scarf and a low, dark woolen cap pulled over his forehead. He grumbled angrily to himself as he approached his wagon and pulled open the painted wooden door.
    Bess’s eyes opened wide as a boy—a young boy with his hands behind his back and something tied about his mouth—tried to push past him, but the Gypsy shoved him backwards, hard, and climbed in after him.
    Outraged, Bess began to march down the footpath towards the wagon when a hand out of nowhere clamped down on her arm.
    “ You don’t want to interfere with a Gypsy and his family,” said the tall, lean man she turned her startled face to.
    “Unhand me at once,” Lady Bess snapped incredulously. She could see by the extreme of his shirt points and the length of the tails of his cutaway superfine coat that he was a beau, or more to the point, a London dandy. He was thin, and she thought him unattractive, but that wasn’t what made her feel apprehensive. Something in his hazel eyes made her wary.
    “I am sorry. I saw you headed in the direction of the Gypsy wagon and—”
    “And what?” demanded the Earl of Dunkirk, arriving at this auspicious moment.
    The earl reached for and took Bess’s gloved hand and pulled her in close. “I doona think that was cause enough to lay hands on a lady.”
    Bess could see the threat sparkling in the earl’s blue eyes. Everything about him seemed threatening.
    The dandy had, in fact, taken a nervous step back and with his gloved hands up, palms towards the earl, said, “No offense—I thought only to spare her a confrontation with that nasty fellow.”
    “Did ye now, but I doona think that was yer place,” said the earl, looking towards the wagon, which had just pulled away. It moved slowly, pulled by two aged dark cob horses.
    “Please, my lord.” Bess tugged at the earl’s hand, which still held hers. Believing he was going to start a row, she attempted to pull him away. “We should go inside and join Donna and Robby. We do not wish to draw attention.” She thought of the boy in the wagon and told herself she was making too much of it. What could she do? He was probably the Gypsy’s son and no doubt was being punished for some infraction.
    The earl looked at her then, and she felt his gaze stroke her tenderly. What was going on between them, she wondered. It felt so real at times, and then at other times it felt as though he were merely doing the polite.
    “Please,” she added as he hesitated, apparently bent on reading the dandy a lecture.
    “Of course,” he answered her, dropping her hand and giving her his bent arm as he shot a glare full of daggers at the stranger. They left him at their backs and made their way inside.
    The innkeeper came forward at once and, chattering pleasantly, showed them to the large round table where Robby was already munching on a sizeable loaf of bread.
    The earl and Bess looked at one another and laughed before the earl saw her seated. He said softly near her ear, “I won’t have ye going off on yer own, lass, in a public establishment.”
    Bess gasped. “You are not my father.”
    “Thank the saints for that,” he returned on a laugh. “And even so, when ye are in my company in a public place, you will adhere to