Book 14 in the Cynster series, 2006

August 1831

Ballyranna, County Kilkenny, Ireland

I’m looking for Paddy O’Loughlin.”

Fronting the bar counter in the Pipe & Drum, Lady Priscilla Dalloway met the tavern keeper’s arrested gaze and wished she’d thought to disguise her diction. But then she watched recognition flare in Miller’s eyes and realized there would have been no point. She’d worn an old riding habit and a wide-brimmed hat, but there was nothing she could do to disguise her face; a veil wouldn’t help gain Paddy O’Loughlin’s confidence.

Miller, a beefy man with a round, bald head, continued to study her as if she might pose some exotic threat. Inwardly sighing, she leaned confidingly on the counter. “He’s not in any trouble-I just want to talk to him.” She’d softened her already soft brogue, but Miller didn’t budge or blink; she infused a touch more persuasiveness into her tone. “It’s just that my brother’s now filling the position from which Paddy recently retired, and I wanted to know what Paddy could tell me about the work and the place.”

That was all she was willing to reveal. She wanted reassurance as to Rus’s well-being, but she wasn’t prepared to air the Dalloways’ dirty linen before Miller, no doubt as big a gossip as his peers.

Miller frowned, and glanced around.

It was two o’clock; there were three workmen farther along the bar, and a few scattered at tables, all glancing surreptitiously at the Quality miss who’d walked into their den. The barroom windows were small, their glass thick and wavy, admitting little light; the room was a medley of browns and greens, dingy and drab, with only the gleam of glasses and bottles on the wall behind the counter to fix the eye.