Wakened by the rumbling of the wheels across the cobblestone Nicola Highbridge slowly opened her eyes. She’d come to London to honor her pledge, as a member of the Sisterhood of the Coin, even if it has been a childish idea, of young idealistic girls. The moment she’d untied the dirt-encrusted handkerchief, two days ago, and saw the old Roman coin, it all came back to her.
If any of the Sisterhood’s three members had a vexing problem, they couldn’t handle, just sending their coin would bring assistance from the other members. Well, she had come despite her reluctance to leave her safe and dull environment.
Eel, the young lad, who had delivered the coin, two days ago, slipped out of the mail coach moments before the carriage ground to a stop. Cold, damp air rushed in as the door swung behind him.
Jumping on the coach steps he extended his hand into the open door as he shouted, “I ‘elp you down, Miss. We not be far from your family’s ‘ouse.”
“Missy, here be your bags,” declared the coachman in a gruff voice.
Two enormous cloth-traveling bags soared through the air landing at her feet with a thud. Road dust danced around her feet.
“Eel,” she said, turning away from her bags.
A hatless man, well over six feet, towered over the boy. His hand lightly wound around the lad’s arm. His clothes, those of a common laborer were perfectly tailored. His boots, highly polished, seemed out of place. His clean curly black hair brushed the collar of his white shirt.
“Just where have you been hiding, my young friend?”
The man snarled. “I paid you to assist me. Did you forget?”
“I be explaining, sir. First, I be getting the lady to her family’s ‘ome,” said Eel, looking in her direction.
“Sir, sir,” she interrupted sidestepping toward them.
The man turned from Eel. His eyes hard and black as a gypsy’s cauldron watched her. It became obvious he didn’t welcome her intrusion as his frown deepened. However, this wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a man lacking manners.
The boy traveled a great distance to fetch her to London and his reward should not be a thrashing from anyone, even this intriguing man.
“Eel accompanied me to London from my home,” she said, in a firm strong voice.
Releasing the boy’s arm the man continued to stare in her direction. His gaze journeyed, first to her face, then leisurely downward, slowly penetrating through each layer of clothing.
Pulling her cape tightly about her she could still feel his touch. The moment he looked away the pulsing heat and panic vanished, leaving her cold and wanting.
Scrutinizing the young woman’s face, Clay Barber watched it grow pale. She was attractive, taller than most English women. The top of her head would fit nicely just under his chin. His hand started to move to push the runaway strands of silky brown hair back under her hat. He jerked his hand back to his side, as her green eyes pierced him with a cold glare.
Yes, I am intrigued and yes, she is tempting.
I came to London with a purpose and it is not capturing a pretty face. Those days are long gone.
Her cape had been costly once, but now well worn. She acted and carried herself like a lady of the manor. Why then, would she travel in a mail coach? There are too many unanswered questions I don’t have time for. This woman is interfering in my plans. I am here to seek revenge for my brother’s death, not looking for female distractions.
“Oh, bloody hell!”
“Sir, your language,” she snapped.
“Truly, I beg your pardon, Miss.” Sighing he struggled not to lose his patience. “I employed the boy more than a week ago. He and I have an agreement.” He bowed his head. “My name is Clay Barber. It will be an honor to escort you to your family’s home. It is not safe for you to be walking the streets of London with only a lad, even one like Eel, for protection, Miss.” He paused waiting. Finally he said, “You, you do have a name?”
“Oh, most certainly.” Nicola nervously laughed. “My name is Miss Highbridge, Miss Nicola Highbridge, and I thank you for your offer of assistance. But it is unwarranted.” She took Eel’s hand. “We are quite capable of reaching our destination without your guidance.”
Why is this man trying to impose himself on me and treat me like a helpless goosecap? Does he think we cannot walk a few blocks in the daylight? I am a grown woman quite competent to take care of myself. After all, I have been doing just that for many years. His unspoken words and actions make me cross as crabs.
She didn’t need or want him anywhere near her. The feelings he created in her made her remember the one aspect in her life she struggled to forget.
Her broken heart had healed and living in Chew Magna kept her hidden away from questions she couldn’t answer.
Hadn’t Henry’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Shelton, explained everything to her? Without a family history, no knowledge of her parents, no man of worth, which most certainly included their son, would be interested in her and certainly wouldn’t marry her.
Despite her protest, Mr. Barber walked to her bags and picked them up with little effort.
“Sir, that is unnecessary. Eel and I can manage.”
“That may be, Miss. But I will accompany you.”
“We be safe with ‘im, Miss.” Eel tugged on her sleeve.
Looking intently at Mr. Barber her face grew warm. She hoped no one would notice her watching him or detect her embarrassment in doing so, especially Mr. Barber.
Eel led the way. They marched single file down a narrow brick street, which turned into cobblestone. Every uneven stone thrust through the thin soles of her new fashionable boots.
Rotting animal flesh wafted up to her nose. The smell of a privy, which hadn’t been cleaned in a fortnight or longer, hung in the air. Numerous street odors changed, intermingling with each other. Her eyes watered as her senses continued to be assaulted. Even her hands felt dirty as air descend through the gloves she wore. Trying to take deep breaths only made her stomach contents inch upward into her throat. Swallowing hard, she clamped her mouth shut, and began inhaling with small breaths through her nose, while she exhaled through her tightly parted lips. Inwardly, she talked to her stomach until it calmed and its contents stayed in place. Her teary eyes continued to itch. Using her lacy handkerchief she dabbed at her eyes as she walked down the street. The noise of the carriages, carts, and people made her forget her sore feet and her hunger.
“I will not be ill. I will not be ill,” she chanted aloud. Nothing would be more horrid than to cast up one’s account in front of Mr. Barber. I wished I could walk behind him.
They traveled down two thoroughfares. The amount of traffic forced the carts, wagons, and coaches to drive slowly. Quickly crossing the road, they walked between vehicles, to a narrow side street on the left, which was void of any traffic. They walked down two more quiet residential lanes. Turning right, they came to a row of identical white town houses. Black iron railings graced each stairway and window. Nicola stopped at the corner building, number 626. Scampering up three steps Eel grasped the brass doorknocker to announce their arrival.
“Is something the matter, Miss?” asked Mr. Barber. “You look a little pale.”
“You, sir, are the most…” she said, turning to challenge the man. Who for some reason I can’t explain even to myself, is getting on my travel-weary nerves. His pleasant smile and obvious concern are clouding my mind.
Opening the door, Emmy cried out as she ran down the stairs. “I knew you would come.” She flung her arms around Nicola and whispered in her ear, “I am so very glad you have finally arrived.”
Walking slowly up the stairs, Nicola glanced back at Mr. Barber just as she reached the top step. Imaginary fog enveloped everything except him. He took on the air of a knight in shining armor. Stumbling into the entryway, she stopped her forward motion by seizing the doorknob. She recovered from her fantasy with a shake of her head.
“Please carry the bags in,” said Emmy, directing them into the foyer. “Set them there.” She pointed to the wall beneath the old painting of the English countryside. “As usual Nicola is in time for tea.”
I wished to pull or push Emmy into a room, any room, and ask why she’d sent her coin. However, manners dictate I introduce Mr. Barber if I expected to get rid him any time soon.
“Emmy, this-this is an acquaintance of Eel’s, Mr. Clay Barber. He insisted seeing us home safely and transporting my bags. Mr. Barber, this is one of my sisters, Miss Emmy Highbridge.”
“Miss Highbridge, it is an honor to meet you." Mr. Barber bowed his head. “Eel and I will be departing now.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Emmy nodded her head in Mr. Barber’s general direction. “When you’re finished, Nicola, please join us for tea in the sitting room,” she said, smiling broadly. “We will talk later, sister dear.”
Nicola didn’t watch Emmy leave. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Mr. Barber.
“I have engaged Eel and I require his services for the balance of this day. Might you accomplish your business tomorrow?” She moved so Mr. Barber couldn’t see her wink at Eel. At last, I found a way to outmaneuver him.
Mr. Barber’s face took on a reddish hue and his frown deepened.
“I hired the boy long before he left to go wherever he found you. Might I remind you, Miss,” said Mr. Barber.
“Yes, well, we made plans before you came along today, sir,” said Nicola. She looked at him with a forced smile.
“I would like to talk to you, boy. Come outside with me.” He smiled grimly. “I hope that meets with your approval, Miss.”
“I will be waiting, Eel." Returning his smile with one in kind. “Come promptly into the sitting room when you are finished. I will be waiting. Thank you once again Mr. Barber.”
I will be glad to get rid of him. Won’t I? She sighed. I enjoyed watching his most tempting lips. If I observed him leave, it would give me an opportunity to scrutinize his walk down the street.
Remembering why she had come to London she sighed, turned away with reluctance and hurried toward the sitting room where Emmy and the reason Nicola had been summoned to London waited.