The Secret Life of Miss Anna Marsh by Ella Quinn Page A

expecting?”
    She smiled delightedly. “Yes, thank you. That was very well done.”
    Her companion entered the room and glanced around before saying, “Oh, my dear Miss Spencer-Jones, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. You really should not be wandering around the inn by yourself, even if it is very respectable. And the common room, no, no, no. It is not at all the thing. You must remember you’re in England now.”
    A pained expression passed briefly over Miss Spencer-Jones’s face, before she turned to greet the older woman. “Mrs. Wickham, I was merely thanking the gentleman for helping us today.”
    Mrs. Wickham smiled distractedly. “Oh, I see, very proper I’m sure, but not in the common room.” She bobbed a curtsey to him. “Most kind of you.”
    Harry bowed. “As I was telling Miss Spencer-Jones, it was my pleasure.”
    Miss Spencer-Jones looked down at his half-eaten meal. “We mustn’t keep you. Come along, Mrs. Wickham. We mustn’t keep the gentleman from his dinner. Sir, perhaps we shall meet again.”
    Harry bowed. “If our paths cross.”
    The ladies left, and he resumed eating, barely noticing his now tepid food. She was pretty and seemed nice, but it was much too soon. He closed his eyes and saw his dead wife’s smiling face. His heart contracted. The food now tasted like ash. Harry finished his meal and remained in the bar for a while longer. He ordered a pint of the inn’s own ale and watched the other customers come and go. After a while, it occurred to him that he made a point of studying people.
    Harry was on his way to the stairs when he heard Miss Spencer-Jones’s voice. “Mr. Reynolds, you may not join us. I have no wish for your company.”
    â€œBut Emma . . .”
    â€œI have not given you leave to use my name, sir. Please go.”
    Harry sighed. He had enough problems without inserting himself into something that was no bread and butter of his. Still, he couldn’t allow this Reynolds fellow, whoever he was, to accost Miss Spencer-Jones. “Excuse me, might I be of help?”
    She smiled gratefully. “Oh, thank you. I was just telling this gentleman that we do not wish his company.”
    Harry met the man’s gaze and raised a brow. “If the lady says she doesn’t want your company, you should leave.”
    â€œLook here now,” Reynolds said. “I don’t know you, and you’ve no business sticking your nose in where it ain’t wanted. Just leave us be.”
    Harry fixed the man’s swarthy face with a hard look. “The lady has asked for my assistance. Take yourself off, or I’ll have the landlord remove you.”
    He’d not used that tone of command before, but it felt comfortable.
    â€œI have a room here.” Mr. Reynolds stiffened.
    â€œNot for long, you won’t,” Harry said firmly. “I can’t think the landlord would want a man in his house who threatens ladies. The choice is yours. You can either leave Miss Spencer-Jones alone, or you’ll leave this inn. Which is it to be?”
    Reynolds clenched his fists.
    â€œI wouldn’t if I were you. I’m quite handy with my fives.” Where that knowledge came from, Harry didn’t know. Only that it was true.
    Reynolds made a low guttural sound. “Very well, I’ll leave. I’d better not see you around again.” He stalked off.
    Harry asked Miss Spencer-Jones, “Where did you meet him?”
    She’d been watching Reynolds depart and turned to Harry. “He was on the ship on which we journeyed from the West Indies. I tried to keep my distance, but he kept pressing his attentions. I thought once we landed, I’d be free of him.”
    â€œIt’s unfortunate he doesn’t seem to be able to take a hint,” Harry said. “I suggest you arrange to leave early in the morning and keep as good a pace