An Unwilling Conquest Part 13

"Ah, yes." The steely note was back in his voice.

"And I'm to believe that some proprietor has seen fit to engage you employ you, no less--in such a capacity?" Lucinda met his gaze, her own lucidly candid.

"Yes."

The look he turned on her severely strained her composure.

With a wave, she put an end to his inquisition; Blount would soon be back.

"If you must know, this inn is owned by Babbacombe and Company."

The information arrested him in mid-prowl. He turned a fascinated green gaze upon her.

"Whose princ.i.p.als are?"

Folding her hands on her ledgers, Lucinda smiled at him.

"Myself and Heather."

She did not have time to savour his reaction; Blount entered with a pile of ledgers in his arms. Lucinda waved him to a seat beside her. While he sorted through his dog-cared tomes, she reached for her reticule.

Withdrawing a pair of gold-rimmed half-gla.s.ses, she perched them on her nose.

"Now then!"

Beneath Harry's fascinated gaze, she proceeded to put Blount through his financial paces.

Appropriating a chair from the table--one that had been dusted--Harry sat by the window and studied Lucinda Babbacombe. She was, undoubtedly, the most unexpected, most surprising, most altogether intriguing woman he'd ever met.

He watched as she checked entry after entry, adding figures, frequently upside-down from Blount's ledgers.

The innkeeper had long since abandoned all resistance; out of his depth, faced with a totally unforeseen ordeal, he was now eager to gain approval.

As she worked through the ledgers, Lucinda came to the same somewhat reluctant conclusion. Blount wasn't intentionally neglectful; he hadn't meant to run the inn into the ground. He simply lacked direction and the experience to know what to do.

When, after an hour, she reached the end of her inquiries, Lucinda took off her gla.s.ses and fixed Blount with a shrewdly a.s.sessing glance.

"Just so we are clear, Blount, it is up to me to make a recommendation on whether Babbacombe and Company should retain your services." She tapped her closed ledger with one arm of her gla.s.ses.

"While your figures are unimpressive, I will be reporting that I can find no evidence of malpractice-all seems entirely above board."

The burly innkeeper looked so absurdly grateful Lucinda had to sternly suppress a rea.s.suring smile.

"I.

understand you were appointed to your present position on the death of the former landlord, Mr Harvey. From the books it's clear that the inn had ceased to perform well long before your tenancy. "

Blount looked lost.

"Which means that you cannot be held to blame for its poor base performance."

Blount looked relieved.

"How50 ever," Lucinda continued, both tone and glance hardening,

"I have to tell you that the current performance, for which you must bear responsibility, is less than adequate. Babbacombe and Company expect a reasonable return on their investment, Blount." The innkeeper's brow furrowed.

"But Mr Scrugthorpe--he's the one as appointed me?"

"Ah, yes. Mr Scrugthorpe."

Harry glanced at Lucinda's face; her tone had turned distinctly chilly.

"Well, Mr Scrugthorpe said as how the profit didn't matter so long as the inn paid its way."

Lucinda blinked.

"What was your previous position, Blount?"

"I used to keep the Blackbird's Beak, up Fordham way."

"The Blackbird's Beak?"

"A hedge-tavern, I suspect," Harry put in drily. "Oh." Lucinda met his gaze, then looked back at Blount.

"Well, Bl~ount, Mr Scrugthorpe is no longer Babbacombe and Company's agent, largely because of the rather odd way he thought to do business. And, I fear, if you wish to remain an employee of the company, you're going to have to learn to manage the Green Goose in a more commercial fas.h.i.+on. An inn in Newmarket cannot operate on the same principles as a hedge-tavern."

Blount's forehead was deeply creased.

"I don't know as how I rightly follow you, ma'am. Tap's a tap, after all."

"No, Blount. A tap is not a tap--it is the princ.i.p.al public room of the inn and as such should possess a clean and welcoming ambience. I do hope you won't suggest that that,"

she pointed in the direction of the tap, 'is clean and welcoming? "

The big man s.h.i.+fted on his seat.

"Dare say the missus could do a bit of a cleanup."

"Indeed." Lucilla nodded.

"The missus and you, too, Blount. And whoever else you can get to help."

She folded her hands on her ledgers and looked Blount in the eye.

"In my report, I am going to suggest that, rather than dismiss you, given you've not yet had an opportunity to show the company of what you're capable, the company reserves judgement for three months and then reviews the situation."

Blount swallowed.

"What exactly des that mean, ma'am?"