Even after our conversations through the night, and then this morning, I sensed the question, perhaps doubt that still remained.
During that conversation that drifted away then returned in the small hours of the morning, he spoke of having met with Sir Laughton, my great-aunt’s lawyer, who had been instrumental along with Sir Avery in getting Brodie released from Abberline’s custody in the previous investigation.
He had inquired how the marriage might be undone if one of us chose to do so. As it had taken place before the magistrate in Inveresk, in Scotland, it could be done by bringing a petition before a judge who would then simply nullify the marriage.
I was stunned that he had gone so far as to inquire...
“If ye wanted it undone, I would not stand in yer way,”Brodie had then said as streaks of gray light slanted into the room from the balcony.
“But no words from a judge could undo what I promised ye, or ye to me.”
Bloody stubborn Scot, I thought at the time. Yet I knew that he was right.
While I hadn’t known how there could possibly be a way forward for us with all that anger and pain between us, I did know that there would never be anyone that I would give myself to as I had Angus Brodie—a man who was intelligent, handsome, honest and true...a man I could trust.
“I’ll leave before ye, and wait for ye across from the hotel,” he told me now. “Then ye follow as if yer off to do yer shopping.”
“We’ll need a carriage.”
“We’ll find one away from the hotel,” he replied. “So that we can be certain we are not followed.”
“Our travel bags?”
“Ye always have yours with ye, so it should not draw any attention. I will simply be discreet.”
Discreet? Over six feet tall, a handsome figure of a man—particularly in the suit that fit perfectly over that white shirt that any gentleman at the Westminster might wear—and then the contrast of that overlong dark hair and the dark beard…
I watched as he approached the desk, made an inquiry, nodded, then left the hotel. I waited a suitable amount of time, finished my coffee, then also left.
He was waiting outside a flower shop across from the hotel.
I was curious. “What did you say to the desk clerk?”
“I inquired if there is a tonsorial parlor near.”
I looked over at him as we departed in the direction I was most familiar with near the Westminster.
“What is that look I’m seein’ on yer face?”
“Tonsorial parlor?” I repeated.
“Where a man might get a haircut and a shave,” Brodie replied.
“And something more in the room behind the front of the shop?” I casually mentioned what I had heard of in the past.
I could tell by the expression on his face that he knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Perhaps a shine for a man’s boots,” he suggested with just a slight curve at one corner of his mouth.
Shine his boots? Indeed.
Our conversation had returned to that easy exchange we had often shared, but there was a difference now. Perhaps due to that conversation the night before.
Admittedly we were different after that argument and our time apart. But now we were together again with that banter we had always shared and the exchange of thoughts and ideas.
I had no illusion that someone who had been through what he had and with that strong Scottish identity was now a changed man. He had said as much, that he would always protect me, in spite of myself.
I had lived the past twenty years of my life determined that I could protect myself, and my sister if need be. I told myself that I didn’t need anyone else. Yet, these past months apart, I had learned that it wasn’t so much that I needed Brodie. I wanted to be with him. Married or not.
