Christopher alighted from the carriage and handed Alaina down, quickly turning to the man. “Thank you, sir, we appreciate the help.” Alaina murmured her thanks as well.
The group made their way up the short flight of steps and into the small foyer at the front of the townhome, where the man waited to take their cloaks and hats. Alaina could not shake her dread over the upcoming encounter with Christopher’s cousin.What if Charles really did not like her? Why did Charles seem so familiar?She pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and attempted to make conversation to ease her discomfort.
“So, sir, are you originally from London?” Alaina asked.
The stand-in footman looked directly at Alaina, and let the silence stretch as if he was considering his answer. “Yes, ma’am, born an’ raised.”
The weight of the man’s stare made Alaina squirm, as her tongue refused to work. The footman’s eyes narrowed, and he straightened his coat, as if readying for some sort of rebuke, but he was cut short as their host made an entrance.
“Ho there, cousin!” came Charles’s voice from the back of the hallway, his footsteps quickly closing the distance between himself and his trio of guests, clasping hands with Christopher briefly before addressing the ladies.
“I am so glad you could join me here for dinner. I must apologize for my modest home. I had not originally planned to attend the season, so when I changed my mind last minute, I was stuck with scant few options. Thankfully, I have my man, Felton Reid, to help me when I have guests. You ladies absolutely liven up the place with your beauty,” Charles exclaimed, his words overly bright, as he motioned to the footman, whose glower had subsided, at least for the moment.
“Ah yes,” Christopher remarked with a chuckle, “I fear one must be overly prepared for the season. I am happy you were able to find suitable lodgings and join the scene here in London.”
Alaina found that she could not help herself as she countered, “You know, my dear, it is amazing how you have changed your tune. If I had to guess, when I met you, I would have thought you would give up your place here in London never to see the city again, or any of its occupants.”
Christopher smiled sheepishly, and shrugged. “I find myself reformed. It seems I met a captivating young woman who made the city sparkle like I never expected.”
Alaina thought she caught Charles narrowing his eyes, as he did the other evening, but then Charles chuckled without missing a beat. “Of course, dear cousin, it seems that ladies always have a hold over us, no matter how hard we try.”
Alaina could not determine if his last comment was meant in jest, as she watched a hard look cross Charles’s face, and sought to assuage whatever malice might come as a result of the banter. “Oh, Charles, us ladies are not so bad, I assure you. Stick with me, and I can steer you clear of the bad ones.”
Charles seemed to break out of his trance, an easy smile crossing his face again. “Of course, of course. I just meant that love does strange things, mostly good.” And then he gave Christopher a conspiring look before continuing, “Now, I have invited you to dinner, so please follow me.”
Charles motioned for all of them to follow him down the narrow hallway, chattering about the house, its history, and even the weather. Christopher and Charlotte joined in as well, while Alaina fell silent and half-listened. It had been the same when she first met Charles; Alaina had an inkling of something just beneath the surface. She had worried it was some dislike for her that Charles was hiding, but now she could not shake the feeling that neither Charles nor his employee were very happy with their visit.
The pre-dinner drinks did much to ease Alaina’s nerves, making way for a pleasant dinner. Easy conversation about any and all topics seemed to flow as freely as the wine, but Felton suddenly appeared as dessert was being laid on the table, and quickly made his way to the head of the table where Charles was seated, laughing at some story Christopher had been recounting about his time at Eton.
Charles’s man leaned in to whisper to Charles discreetly and after a moment, Charles’ smile faded almost directly into a scowl.
“Felton, I told you I was not to be disturbed. Did you mention I had guests?” Charles queried.
“I mentioned you were occupied, but she insisted,” Felton replied, handing Charles a calling card and placing a pot of ink and quill down on the table. When Christopher’s cousin raised his brow, Felton answered the unspoken question. “She refuses to leave until you respond.”
Charles quickly scrawled something on the calling card, no more than a few words, and sent Felton away, leaving the inkwell awkwardly on the table in his haste. Charles seemed distant, and after a moment of silence Christopher felt the need to ask, “Everything alright, I hope?”
Shaking his head, Charles plastered a smile once more on his face, this time without the light of laughter, and shrugged. “Everything is perfectly fine. It just seems I have a fervent admirer.”
Christopher chuckled, “Love can do strange things.”
“I am afraid so. She is most persistent and unconventional, bordering on reckless. It seems of late, nothing will shake her attentions,” Charles lamented with a rueful half-smile.
“I take it that you do not return her ardor?” Christopher asked, his voice soft and gentle.
“Ah, well,” Charles started as he cleared his throat. “I fear I cannot condone her methods in seeking me out at all times of day.”
After dessert, which was short-lived by anyone’s standards, Charlotte begged to return home, claiming a headache, so all three of Charles’s guests departed, the carriage rumbling down the almost empty street. The early crowd was already abed, while the parties of nobility stretched long into the night. A fog had settled on London, with the warmer days of spring heating up the city, and the still cool nights making for damp and chilly evenings.
It was in this fog that a cloaked figure made its way toward the waterfront, keeping to the shadows, cautious in stride. The salty air mingled with the fetid smell of the Thames, and the stale smell of ale, as the figure approached and entered the unnamed saloon closest to the docks. Sailors knew the place by many names, none of them official, but all of them apt: The Blind Sailor, A Place with No Name, and lastly, The Meetin’ Spot.
The cloaked one felt this last name to be both the most fitting and a taunt of sorts. Walking through the half door at the supposed front of the establishment, the cloaked figure’s senses were assaulted by the din of mostly drunk sailors and their paid or unpaid companions for the evening. The smell of the place had already wafted onto the cobblestone streets, but was much more intense inside, with an added stench of unwashed flesh and thick smoke.
This place was not intended for bawdy activities, with no rooms for it, but served merely as a place for sailors to either start or end the evenings without venturing too far from their posts on the docks. Its location and relative unpopularity among the more boisterous crowds also made it a popular place for anonymous, if not discreet, discussions, no patrons really caring about the business of others. It was little more than a shack with a long rough-hewn bar on one side of the room and only a few sets of tables and chairs for larger groups. Tonight, the crowd was lighter than usual, the first batch of ships having arrived earlier in the week, and the younger sailors preferring the more cosmopolitan scene of London proper. This left only a few people strewn throughout the tables, and some at the bar, leaving plenty of room for the hooded newcomer to sidle up to the bar without incident, taking a seat on a high stool.
The lone barkeep lazily made his way to the figure, not particularly interested or bothered by their presence, other than the fact that he thought it was unlikely the person would order anything. When he came face to face with the would-be patron, he was surprised to see such a winsome visage beneath the hood of the cloak.
His gruff exterior softened, but remained suspicious, as he asked, “Would you like anything, miss, or is it my lady?”
