Miss Chapple led them indoors through a side door. In the gloomy corridor they encountered a maidservant. Edward leaned close to Gareth. “If they invite you to stay, make your excuses,” he whispered, while Miss Chapple issued instructions to the maid. “The inn will be a thousand times more comfortable—and the food immeasurably better!”
Amusement flickered across Gareth’s face. “It can’t be that bad here.”
Edward grimaced. “You’d better believe it.”
The maid hastily lit the fire and half a dozen candles in the chilly library. A few minutes later, a tea tray was brought in. The thump of Strickland’s cane echoed down the corridor while Miss Chapple poured the tea.
Miss Chapple made the introductions. Strickland shook Gareth’s hand and then gestured to the man’s missing left arm. “Waterloo
