Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(24)

And then he’d just been beaten for something else.

“Care for gin?” Meredith held the bottle poised above an empty glass.

“Thank you, no.”

With a little shrug, she tipped the bottle and poured anyway. After filling the glass to halfway, she put aside the bottle and raised the glass to her own lips.

“Does it bother you much?” she asked from behind the glass, casting a pointed look toward the room behind him.

Rhys threw a casual glance over his shoulder, having formed a good expectation of what he’d see. He was right. Everyone in the room was staring at him. Their eyes were filled with hatred, fascination, fear, or all three. He recognized more than a few men from the torch-bearing mob that morning. Over by the hearth, Harold and Laurence Symmonds glared at him over tankards of ale.

“Are they brothers or cousins?” he asked, tilting his head to indicate the bull-headed, beak-nosed pair.

“Yes.” At his obvious confusion, she explained, “Their mother took up with a pair of brothers. No one was ever able to sort out who belonged to whom. But yes, they’re brothers or cousins.”

“Explains a few things,” Rhys muttered. He turned back to Meredith and shrugged. “The staring doesn’t bother me. I’m used to it. They’ll come around, in time.”

She didn’t agree or disagree, just sipped her drink.

“When we announce our engagement,” he said, “they’ll come around that much faster.”

She sputtered into the glass.

Rhys resumed writing his letter. “Still so surprised? I told you, it’s fate. As suitors go, I know I haven’t much to offer you at the moment, but that’s why I’ve started the cottage. Made good progress on the foundation today. It should be large enough for all three of us, if I build two stories.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’ll take some time, though, collecting that much stone.”

“What do you mean?” She raised her eyebrows. “You’ve a great pile of stone, just sitting there atop the hill.”

She meant the remains of Nethermoor Hall, of course. And she was right—the crumbling heap was a ready supply of building material. But somehow, Rhys just couldn’t stomach stealing rocks from his hellish past to build the house of his future. The cottage was meant to be a fresh start.

“I’d rather save that for rebuilding the Hall,” he lied. “I’ll gather moorstone for the cottage. Or quarry some granite out of the slope, perhaps.”

She shook her head. “Why not just use cob?”

“Cob?” Odd, he hadn’t thought of that. Down here in the village, most of the buildings were fashioned from the traditional walls of packed earth.

“Once you have the stone plinth, all you need for a cob house is soil and straw,” she said. “It’s easier, and cheaper by far. And built right, it will last centuries.” She looked up at the ceiling. “It’s what I plan to use, when I have the chance to expand this place.”

He looked up in surprise. “You have plans to expand the inn?”

“Oh, I have all sorts of plans for this inn.”

He signed his letter, folded it, and shoved it in his pocket. “Tell me about them.”

She gave him a mocking look. “I’m shocked you’d ask, seeing as how they’re fated to never come to pass.”

“Humor me. I’d like to hear them anyway.”

“Very well.” She set a second glass on the bar and filled it halfway. Despite his dislike of liquor, Rhys didn’t object. It was beginning to feel awkward, letting her drink alone. He didn’t want to interrupt her or argue the point, so he accepted the glass and took a cautious sip.

Fire ripped down his throat.

“Damn,” he said, coughing. “This isn’t Plymouth gin.”

“No, it’s a local brew. Cures all ills.”

“Causes them, do you mean?” He took another slow sip and found it burned less this time. “Go on, then. You were telling me about your plans.”

She refilled her own glass. “As I said, I plan to add a new wing when I have the chance. And by ‘chance,’ I mean funds, of course. Guestrooms on the upper floor and a proper dining room and parlor below. It’ll adjoin the building just there,” she said, indicating the direction with a jut of her chin. “Across from the stables. That way, the courtyard will be enclosed on three sides instead of two.”

Rhys sipped thoughtfully as she went on, detailing her plans for quality furnishings and finer dining room fare. The Three Hounds was well-situated, she explained, positioned on the only road traversing this part of the moor. The inn six miles down the road currently took most of the travelers’ business, but Meredith meant to change all that.

“With the war over, more people will be taking pleasure tours. There’s no reason why the Three Hounds shouldn’t have a slice of that pie.” Her whole face became animated as she continued describing her plans. “With finer accommodations, larger rooms, some posting horses … this place could be a real destination. A stopping place for gentlefolk passing through on their way to tour points west. Why should they not break their journey here and explore Dartmoor, too? As you said earlier, the moor can be a pretty place.”

“Beautiful. I believe I used the word beautiful.”