"Where's the man himself, eh?" Thomas said, leaning forward over the counter with a grin. He'd almost certainly been drinking already.
Brodie pulled himself up to his full height. He always felt a little out of sorts around Thomas. Thomas was handsome, confident, and of course he was a laird, too. It would be nice to have that kind of self-confidence, the sort that made other people like you, and made them think that you had something worth saying. Brodie hoped that kind of confidence would come with time, but he couldn't exactly be a Thomas while he was working for Dominic Sutherland.
Hedidn't suffer fools lightly. Likeable though he may be, Thomas was something of a fool. Fortunately, he had his whip-smart healer wife to temper his impulsivity.
"I am in charge tonight, until such time as Dominic returns." he said, a little pompously.
Brodie had never been a young man destined for great things. He wasn't particularly clever, and while that didn't bother him much, it was usually a requirement to moving onwards and upwards in the world, as his old ma used to say. He admired Dominic a great deal and hoped to have his help in making something of himself.
Minding the pub by himself was the first step along the road to that sort of thing. If he could just prove that hecoulddo things, Dominic would be more likely to let him do other things. Things that required more responsibility, and so on. It was a tricky business, earning trust, and Dominic was not a forgiving sort of man. Brodie supposed that he must give out second chances, buthe'dnever seen such a thing. That business with Astrid proved that.
Of course, Astrid had it coming. Brodie shivered at that, thinking guiltily of his own infatuation with her. She was very beautiful, and a man could be dazzled by that.
Not Dominic Sutherland, of course. But other men, perhaps.
Thomas only chuckled, as if he knew what Brodie was thinking, and drank back his pint on one big gulp.
"I'll go and find Emma, I think." he said easily. "Give me a shout when Dom comes down, won't ye?"
"Aye, I will." Brodie responded before he could think twice about it. Thomas left his empty pint on the counter and wandered away.
Brodie cleaned and rinsed out the tankard for use again, wishing that he hadn't let Paisley go home so early. There was more work than he'd anticipated, and a second pair of hands would have come in handy. Paisley was a likeable, hardworking sort of lass, not at all the prim slacker that Brodie had assumed she would be. She was keen to work and didn't like wasting time. Brodie never had to hover over her to make sure she kept herself busy, or to check whether she'd done a good job. She was a fast learner, too. Faster than Brodie, in fact.
A fresh tray of dirty tankards and glasses were deposited on the counter, and he sighed heavily, picking them up to be washed. It really would be better if Paisley was here. Even when they hadn't had a barmaid, Dominic had always been there to help. This was the first time in a long time that Brodie had to work alone, and it was a busy night.
Still, shehadlooked ill. And she might be grateful to him for being so kind to her. Not that Brodie would have a chance with a girl like her, of course. Elegant and class oozed out of every pore.
Elegance probably isn't meant to ooze,Brodie thought to himself, polishing up the tankard. Still, a man could dream, couldn't he? She'd looked ill today – pale and pensive. He'd wondered briefly whether one of the more lecherous drunks had tried to go too far, but then Paisley struck him as the sort of girl who could stick up for herself. Maybe he should mention it to Dominic.
Nay, better not,Brodie thought hastily.Dom's nae in the finest of moods at the moment. If I dinnae ken better, I'd say therewas something weighin' on his mind, but what? I'd ask, but he'd only bite me head off.
That was true – Dominic Sutherland wasnotknown for being chatty and open. Brodie sighed to himself, replacing the tankard in the shelves beneath the bar. Whatever the problem was, Dominic would have to manage it himself.
Then a hush fell over the crowd, and the silence wasveryout of character forTheSinner.
Glancing up, Brodie saw that the front door was open, letting in a slice of night air and a wisp of ice-cold air. A man stood silhouetted in the doorway. Just by his outline, Brodie could tell at once that he wasnotfrom around here.
Judging by the quiet of the crowd and the craning necks, everybody else could tell it, too. It was an impressive thing, to hush a crowd simply by entering the room, but this fellow had achieved it.
The man stepped forward, revealing glossy riding boots that were cleaner and brighter than any mirror Brodie had ever seen. They called them Hessians, didn't they? Somebody was polishingthemto within an inch of their lives, and it almost certainly wasn't the gentleman wearing them.
Above the Hessians were a pair of skintight brown breeches, molded perfectly to the man's leg. Brodie's eye travelled up, taking in a rich brocade waistcoat in blue and silver, a deep blue coat that probably cost more than Brodie earned in a year. Therewas a fountain of impossibly white frothy lace at the man's coat, waterfalling down over his waistcoat, and matching lace at his cuffs. The man's hands were long, white, and thin, clutching a marble-topped cane.
The man's face was long and pointed, reminding Brodie of a white cat he'd watched stalking a bird as a child.
Or a weasel, maybe. One of those funny little hunters that seemed torippleacross the earth. They always seemed so pretty and small, until they pounced on their target and started ripping out its guts before it was even dead.
Brodie didn't much like weasels. He'd picked up the remains of far too many murdered chickens for that.
The stranger's hair was almost white, curled in delicate ringlets and artfully arranged all over his head. He had narrow eyes of a remarkable sky-blue, and was around forty, maybe forty-five, by Brodie's estimate.
When Brodie finally met the man's eye, he found that the strange gentleman was watching him, too. Slowly and deliberately, he raised a gold-rimmed monocle to his eye, inspecting Brodie.
He's going to get robbed tonight,Brodie thought wildly. Even as he gathered the thought in his mind, however, he realized that nobody was going to be robbing this man, not if the two hulking gentlemen in black had anything to do about it. They lingered in the doorway, cudgels strapped to their belts, glaring balefullyat the crowd. Brodie spied the glint of a carriage outside and guessed that there were some more hulking thugs out there, too.
"Are you the proprietor of this fine establishment?" he said, his voice relaxed, as if he and Brodie were old friends sharing a particularly humorous joke. He was English, with the cultured, restrained accents that spoke of elocution lessons and a lifetime of perceived superiority.
Brodie swallowed hard, wishing that Dominic were here.