Kingsley's Bride

Chapter 15: Strife and Resilience

The ride wasn't as smooth as I had imagined. The carriage lurched and jolted along the uneven road, making it difficult to settle into any kind of rhythm. Halfway through the journey, the weather changed dramatically. What had been a pleasant, albeit chilly, day turned into a stormy, windswept nightmare. Mr. Ralph, decided we needed to take a halt.

"We can't continue in this weather, milady," Mr. Ralph said, his voice steady despite the howling wind outside. "There's an inn near a coaching house just up ahead. We should stop there."

I nodded in agreement, pulling my shawl tighter around my shoulders. The coachman directed the carriage towards the inn, while Mr. Ralph assisted me as I climbed down, holding my hand firmly to ensure I didn't slip on the wet ground. The coachman took the carriage to the coachway for shelter and to feed the horses, leaving Mr. Ralph and me to find our way into the inn.

Inside, the inn was bustling with travelers seeking refuge from the storm. The air was thick with the smell of hearty food and the sound of animated conversation. We found a seat near the fireplace, where the warmth was most welcome. Mr. Ralph ordered some food for us, and we waited in relative silence, watching the activity around us.

As we were eating, a group of young men burst into the inn, their loud, boisterous voices cutting through the murmur of the other patrons. They took a table right behind ours, their raucous laughter and crude jokes impossible to ignore. I tried to focus on my meal, but their conversation drew my attention.

"Did you hear about the fight in the next town?" one of them, a burly fellow with a scar across his cheek, asked. "I showed that bloke a thing or two about real fighting skills."

Another one, younger and leaner, with an air of arrogance, chimed in, "That's nothing. I could easily beat the exhibitionist mighty Darius Kingsley."

My breath caught at the mention of Darius. I glanced at Mr. Ralph, who continued eating, seemingly unperturbed. The men didn't notice my reaction and continued their mocking conversation.

"Kingsley, the next Duke? He must have used his power to kill the real heir," the burly one speculated, his voice dripping with disdain. "How else could it be that all the other heirs died except for him?"

"Yeah," another agreed, "he's been spreading false information about helping the poor to gain sympathy. But we know the truth. He's all talk."

The younger one laughed derisively. "Just wait until the crowning ceremony. I'll beat the shit out of him, and then people will realize Darius is nothing but a fraud."

Their words stung, and I felt a surge of anger. How dare they speak about Darius this way? I couldn't just sit there and listen to their baseless accusations and insults. I glared at them, my eyes burning with indignation.

One of the men noticed my glare. He had a sneer on his face as he looked me up and down. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he said loudly, making sure his companions could hear. "A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be roaming around with an old man."

His friends laughed, and he continued, "I bet I could perform better than your old man here." The laughter grew louder, and my face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

Mr. Ralph finally looked up from his meal, his expression calm but his eyes alert. "Mind your tongue," he said quietly but firmly, directing his gaze at the young man who had spoken.

The man sneered. "Or what, old man? You gonna teach me a lesson?"

I stood up, my heart pounding. "You will show some respect," I said, my voice trembling slightly but growing stronger with each word. "You have no idea who you're talking about or to."