Melanie Grey escapes the south of England to take up a post in rural Northumberland as housekeeper to Lord Jarrow, a widower with a young daughter.
A strange but not unpleasant situation awaits her. Trying to conceal her own past, she grows curious about Lord Jarrow's night time excursions and is soon embroiled in whisky smuggling and deceiving Excise men....and all the time growing closer and closer to the master....
Excerpt: Chapter One
Melanie Grey pulled down the veil attached to
her hat and glanced cautiously through the window as the horses slowed and
turned into the inn yard. The door of the grey stone building stood open and a
grey cat, tail curled neatly around its front paws, sat on the windowsill. Oak
trees flourished behind the inn, their leafy branches bowing low over the heavy
slate roof. Smoke from the squat chimney coiled and drifted into the still air.
It was a far cry from the grand hostelries of
southern England she had frequented in the past. So much quieter here; no sign
of frantic stable-boys and grooms hurrying to change the horses before the next
coach arrived. Faded paint curled from the ancient sign of a blackbird above
the inn doorway.
She heard voices. Angry voices. Frowning, she
leaned closer to the coach window. In the dusty space between an abandoned
wheelbarrow and the stable door, a tall youth argued with a child. Something
the child said made him raise his hand and he slapped the boy, who staggered
under the blow.
Melanie gasped, one hand rising to her mouth.
The child, no more than eight or nine, did not cower away; instead, crimson
with rage, he recovered his balance and kicked out with a hob-nailed boot that
connected with the youth’s shin bone. Dancing out of reach, he yelled something
that made the older lad snarl and lunge toward him.
Cold with horror, knowing she ought to
intervene, Melanie grabbed the leather strap, released the window and their
rough voices poured into the coach.
‘Come ’ere, you little guttersnipe!’
‘Not bloody likely!’ The child skipped nimbly
out of reach.
‘Stop! Stop at once!’ Because she was afraid,
her voice carried no conviction. The young man ignored her, but the boy saw her
and offered a swift, gap-toothed grin as he backed rapidly away from danger. He
collided with the gentleman leading his horse around the front of Melanie’s
coach.
‘Ouf! Steady, lad!’ The man gripped the child’s
shoulder to keep him upright. ‘What’s amiss here?’ His expression hardened as
the bully, fists clenched, advanced on them both and he pushed the boy behind
him.
Melanie, weak with relief, shuffled back into
her seat. The boy was saved. She need do nothing. Once she would have been out
there in the dust of the inn yard, standing toe-to-toe with the bully and
caring not a jot for his regard. Her accident had scarred more than her face,
she thought ruefully.
‘What’s going on here?’
‘That’s my uncle Bert,’ the boy’s voice cried.
‘He’s your uncle, you say?’ The gentleman’s cultured,
mellow voice sounded faintly amused. Or was it disbelief she could hear in his
warm tone? ‘Then he should protect you rather than beat you.’
Edging forward, Melanie risked another glance
at the scene outside. The grooms, who should have been changing the horses,
loitered in a group by the stable door, grinning.
The child glared at his relative and stuck out
his tongue.
The youth, his face ugly with temper, took a
step towards the boy. ‘That lyin’ young varmint needs a lesson in doing as he’s
told! Come ’ere, Toby Redman, before ah lose me temper and clatter yer ’ead
against t’wall.’
Melanie shuddered.
Dark Whisky
Road is available on Amazon Kindle: Here
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