Growing up, her mother had always spoken of the dangers of London, as if the whole town crawled with the worst kind of people, and yet there were kind men like this hackney driver. In the years she’d been coming to Town, he’d been nothing but pleasant even if his raised brow let her know he questioned her choices. Always proper, he and many others like him had driven her to and from places with nary an unkind word.
In contrast, one of the worst men she’d ever met in her life had been from the countryside. Society had proclaimed him a gentleman, a man of good breeding, but he’d been nothing of the sort. The contrast of the two was proof that good and bad existed everywhere.
Thoughts of Duncan made her wrap her arms about herself. Maybe she shouldn’t have come out this morning on her own. Then again, did it really matter? The only bad interactions she’d had with a man had been at the hands of someone she knew and trusted. Someone who had insisted he cared for her.
Not enough to care about her reputation, though.
Even though she wore her thick pelisse, she shivered in the cold air. She should have taken Duncan’s childhood interactions with Algenon, Nate, and John as a lifetime sign of his badcharacter, but they’d been young and she’d fully believed he’d grown out of such foolishness.
The driver took the next turn a little too sharp, and she tipped to the side, knocking her cheek against the side of the carriage.
A curse came from above. “Sorry, miss. Some idiot just took the turn too wide and nearly hit into us.”
She glanced out the window. The flash of a yellow coach, its crest bright in the morning sun, caught her attention as it travelled far too quickly down the busy London street. Of course Lord Falcross’s driver would have little concern for others on the road.
She rubbed the spot where her cheek had connected with the wood. It smarted and her cream gloves came away with a few streaks of red. It wasn’t bad, just a scrape, but there would definitely be a bruise by evening, if there wasn’t one forming already.
When the driver opened the door, however, his face fell and his accent grew thicker. “Oh dear, I am so sorry, miss. I ‘adn’t realized ya got ‘urt. If I ‘ad I’d ‘ave pulled over.”
“Then I’m glad you didn’t know. I’d much rather have made it here on time than to be late for such a small incident.” Not that she really had a set time, but hopefully her explanation would assuage the man’s guilt. It wasn’t his fault Lord Falcross employed negligent servants.
She reached into her reticule, but he held up a hand. “I can’t charge ya for this ride. It wouldn’t be right.”
She removed a few coins anyway. “Then we will consider this payment for my next ride. Please return for me in two hours?”
He took the coins and smiled. They both knew full well that she’d paid for over two trips, but the man didn’t argue.
“That I can, and I’ll be sure to keep ya safe this time.”
Javenia smiled, then directed her attention to John’s townhouse. The grey stone building wedged between others ofits type symbolized freedom in a way she’d never considered. When she visited her friends, she didn’t have to worry about her parents looking over her shoulder and judging her every move. Did Algenon feel the same?
Would he even show up?
What if he’d not considered the matter of their meeting settled, and so did not come this morning? Her chest constricted.
They needed to talk. It was time to see if they could fight for a future together. Or would this be where their paths diverged? A bone-deep ache filled her, freezing her feet to the ground. Every time she’d come close to bringing up the subject in the past, she’d lost her courage before getting to the heart of the matter, afraid that if they crossed the line between friendship and love, they’d never be able to go back.
But time was running out.
She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and threw back her shoulders. She could do this. Let it not be said that Miss Javenia Harris was a coward.
Algenon stabbed the kipper on his plate several times. He was supposed to be at Newhurst House, not staring across the table at Miss Weston and her eel of a father. Why had Father invited them to break their fast with them?
He’d not said anything to Algenon after the card party, freeing him from any suspicion that his father had seen his forward behavior toward Javenia. However, he’d also kept him especially busy all of yesterday as he followed Phillipa through the shops in search of the perfect bonnet for riding out.
Lady Roberts seemed to be recovering from whatever had ailed her, but her spirits still flagged. Even this morning shelooked as though she’d rather be abed than seated at the breakfast table with Lord Falcross and Miss Weston. He’d rather she was resting as well. They could all go back to bed for all he cared. Maybe then he’d be free to leave.
He glanced down the table at his father. It was hard to have charitable thoughts about a person if they always got in the way of one’s happiness, and his father’s insistence that he stay and dine with them was doing just that.
Miss Weston peered around her father, her scandalously low dress providing far more of a view of her than Algenon ever wanted to see. If he’d had any hope of choking down more of his breakfast, it was gone.
“I thought we all might visit the Tower of London today, then maybe get tea at Gunter’s since it is too cold for ices.”
Lady Roberts looked up from her food, her brow pinched as she glanced at Algenon’s father. His father chewed his food thoughtfully. After a moment, he swallowed and took a sip of tea.
“I can see no reason why such an excursion would not suit.”
Algenon set his utensils down with a clink. “It is a Parliamentary day. There will be a great deal of discussion about the ongoing wars. Don’t you think you should be there?”
