Willis saluted and rushed to help the ostler manage the heavy, drooping horses. Ro stepped to the back of the carriage, opened the boot, and hauled his portmanteau up and out just as the carriage started moving, then strode up the steps to the inn’s side door.

He opened it and squelched inside. The sound made him wince; Hoby wouldn’t be impressed. “Innkeep!”

“Right here, sir.”

Ro looked up. The innkeeper-the same mild-mannered man Ro remembered from years ago-was standing behind a short counter by the stairs, watching the puddle forming about Ro’s large booted feet with resignation.

The man sighed, then ran his gaze up Ro’s long frame, animation increasing as he took in the quality of the greatcoat hanging from Ro’s shoulders and the elegant coat and waistcoat beneath, equally sodden. “A dreadful night, sir. You’ll be wanting a nice dry room, I’ve no doubt.”

“One with a fire, and a room for my coachman as well. He’ll be in shortly.”

Ro’s voice brought the man’s gaze to his face.

The man blinked. “Why…bless me! It’s Ro-” He corrected himself. “Lord Gerrard, isn’t it? We haven’t seen you in quite some years, my lord.”

Everyone remembered Rogue Gerrard. Ro managed to summon the charming smile that rarely failed to get him what he wanted. “Indeed. Bilt, isn’t it?”

Bilt was flattered to have been remembered; he came around his counter. “A right beastly night, my lord. Never seen anything like it-all this rain. A night for Noah, it is. We’ve one of our front rooms vacant. I’ll just nip up and get the fire roaring, and have the missus turn down the bed.” Eager to please, he reached for Ro’s bag. “If you’d like to sit in the tap for a moment, catch your breath, I’ll take your bag up and make sure all’s ready.”

Ro surrendered his bag. He was tired and sodden and wanted nothing more than to get dry. Getting warm would hopefully follow.