The foul mood that had swept in refused to budge even after she’d bathed… even after she’d worked the rest of the day into the night… even after seven hours of bed-tossed sleep… even after her morning tea…
“You’re as grouchy as Sue Fawn from Pizzy’s Pleasure Palace when that hair tincture she got off a barber turned her fine curls to frizz, then made it drop right off her head,” Tilly had said first thing this morning. “You never saw such a shiny bald patch on neither man nor woman.”
As Nell had never come across Sue Fawn in all her life, she’d have to take Tilly’s word. But there was no denying it: She felt decidedly grumpy.
“Right,” continued Tilly, “it’s off to the baths with you.”
“Pardon?” Nell had—by dire necessity—had a bath yesterday.
“We’re in a spa town, ain’t we? So, go take some of that magic water and cure your mood.”
After a few minutes of back and forth with Tilly, Nell had finally conceded the argument and accepted that she would have to take the waters.
Now, she’d paid the attendant her sixpence and was on her way. But as she ventured down the corridor, she noticed two doors at the end, neither marked. Presumably, she was to enter one. She glanced back toward the attendant, who was currently occupied attempting to get into the good graces of a serving girl whose flirty little smile suggested she might be open to the possibility. Nell would get no help there.
Perhaps one was an entry door and the other an exit. What was the worst that could happen? That she would go in through the wrong door?
She chose the one to her right and stepped inside. Instantly, she was assaulted with air that was several degrees warmer than the corridor and sticky with humidity. She did a quick scan of her surroundings and—thankfully—found no one else. She would much prefer to endure this entire experience with no witnesses.
Once she’d found a discreet corner partially obscured by a painted screen, she changed into the bathing dress and cap, her hair tucked firmly beneath. Her first steps beyond the screen were uncertain and unsteady, her feet still clad in sturdy brown boots, though she was fairly sure she was meant to remove them. She felt silly. She’d never worn such a costume, and her hair had already begun to itch beneath the cap.
Still, she was here, so why not give in and find some jolly in the experience?
A smile tugged at her lips, and in an instant, she felt lighter for it. She wasn’t the sort who delighted in grouchiness.
She entered a short, dark corridor and made for the light, following the sound of trickling water. The main bathing chamber must be this way. Strangely, nerves fluttered through her as she stepped into a large square room, the ceiling high, the skylight allowing light to pour inside—reflecting off ivory tiles that covered the floor and halfway up the walls, dancing upon glistening water.
If any remnants of her foul mood had remained, they fell entirely away. For the first time since the idea had been introduced, Nell was glad for her holiday. She couldn’t swim, but she might not need to, as the large rectangular pool appeared to be no more than a few feet deep.
Seeking to deposit her belongings on a bench—in the East End one didn’t leave one’s belongings alone in plain sight if one ever wanted to see them again—Nell searched around until she turned and spotted a long row of benches behind her.
A second later, she startled to a halt, the breath catching in her chest as her gaze locked on an extraordinary sight.
It wasn’t the sight of the innocent wooden bench that had her frozen in place and her heart threatening to break free and take its chances up the road.
Before her sat a person… aman… and not just any man, but…
Him.
The man responsible for drenching her in mud on the high street, ruining her best pelisse. In fact, she might very well still have a dollop of mud in her ear.
But it wasn’t the mere sight of him that had a hot blush firing through her. It was the way he sat, legs sprawled, smile curling the corner of his mouth, utterly at ease, and…
Shirtless.
Only a large towel—thank heavens—protected the rest of him from view. But what was on view…
Golden, furred chest, ridged muscles…
Oh, what a view.
“You,” somehow escaped her parted lips.
He didn’t move a muscle. She would know, because she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from them.
“I take it you’ve made a wrong turn,” he said, confident, possibly arrogant.
How like a man.
