“Nothing kind about it,” he said, with an outrageous twinkle in his eye. “You’re going to go in there and yell at that man, and I’m going to gawk shamelessly. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

She scowled. There was a little relief mixed in with her frustration—she wasn’t really accustomed to storming unfamiliar taverns, and having someone, particularly a someone who looked like a long-lost Viking warrior, at her side might be nice. Perversely, this realization only irritated her more.

“I don’t need your protection,” she said.

“Of course you don’t,” he replied. He took her arm and walked towards the entrance. “I shall be exactly like those fools who picnicked at Bull Run. Spectating only.”

And with that she found herself drawn through the entrance, a full battalion masquerading as a man by her side.

CHAPTER SIX

It might as well have been night, for all the light there was in the smelly, close little room. There were candles on the tables, tallow candles by the smell, and they let off a weak, wavering light utterly defeated by the general griminess of the establishment. Alva stopped inside the doorway, blinking in the darkness as she scanned the room. Her maid had described Miller as short, fat, and in possession of a bushy red beard, and there couldn’t be too many men in town answering to that description.… Ah, there he was, sitting near the back of the room, a fresh, frothy pint in front of him.

She weaved through the tables, aware every eye in the place was on them. Well, she had plenty of experience with that, lately. Miller looked startled as they drew close to him, and even more so when she drew up the chair across from him and sat down.

“Howard Miller, I believe?”

He looked up blankly, taking in her appearance with confusion. She saw the instant recognition hit him. His slack jaw clenched close, and his shoulders stiffened. “Mrs. Webster,” he said, and she nodded.

“I arrived in town this morning, and found this on my entry table.” She placed the letter between them. “I thought I’d give you the opportunity to explain.”

He stared at the letter, his Adam’s apple working up and down. “Nothing to explain,” he said, glancing nervously at Sam. “Put it all in there.”

“Ah, my mistake,” Alva said, picking the letter up again and snapping it open. “‘Dear Mrs. Webster. My crew has discontinued work on your property. As the stoppage was caused by circumstances you had prior knowledge of, I require you to pay in full for all work above your original deposit, in the amount of one hundred dollars. Payment in full is requested by March fifteenth. Sincerely, Howard Miller.’”