“Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?” Hannah asked once they’d found a table for themselves in the taproom and settled in for a bite to eat.
“I’m a grown woman,” Louise said, attempting to sound as confident as possible for Hannah’s sake. “I’m sure I can manage to sit beside a coachman for a few hours.”
“And when you reach Dover?”
“I’ll secure passage for us first, then rent a room at the inn the coach stops at, and await your arrival.”
“And don’t speak with anyone,” Hannah warned. “We’ve no idea what sort of questionable company you’ll find yourself in. Heavens, I’m not sure this is a good idea at all, my lady. I really don’t like it. I—”
“It’s better than the alternative, I’m sure. Everything will work out fine. We’ll meet again tomorrow and cross the Channel together.” Louise took a bite from the minced meat pie she’d been served.
“But what if something goes wrong?”
Louise refused to think the worst. She washed her food down with a mouthful of bitter ale and winced. “Would you rather I stay here and marry Scarsdale?”
“Of course not.”
“Then this is what we must do.”
14
Marcus stretched, rolled his shoulders, and stifled a yawn. It had been a very long day - much longer than planned - but at least he’d managed to save Mr. Plinth’s eye. The older man had travelled to London with his daughter on their physician’s recommendation. They’d been told to seek out Marcus and ask for his help, and as soon as Marcus had seen the desperation on their faces when they’d arrived at St. Agatha’s, he’d not had the heart to send them elsewhere.
So he’d agreed to operate, which had required delaying his departure from London by one day and unfortunately settling for an afternoon ride instead of the early morning one he preferred.
“I wish you safe travels,” Redding said when Marcus stopped by his office to bid him farewell. “Again.”
Marcus leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “I hope no one else comes looking for my help while I’m away.”
“You’ve earned a reputation, Marcus, so I’m sure they will.” Redding smiled. “Don’t worry though, I’ll refer them to the Royal Infirmary for the Diseases of the Eye, as per your instructions.”
“Very good.” Marcus shoved away from the doorframe. “See you in a few months?”
“I’ll be right here,” Redding assured him.
Adding a nod, Marcus departed. There was little sense in addressing the wisdom of his decision to leave. They’d been over all that a few days before when Marcus had told Redding of his plans. Clearly, the duke preferred not to part with one of his best surgeons for any duration, but he understood Marcus’s desire to improve upon his abilities.
Redding’s wife, however, could not comprehend how he could leave Louise behind. Neither could Regina. She’d been especially put out and refused to accept his reasoning. But Marcus was certain this was the right thing to do, not just for himself but for Louise. Especially for her. Considering what she stood to lose, he had to be sure she truly loved him, that her feelings for him would endure, and that they were strong enough to carry her through the hardship she’d face as his wife.
Returning to his rooms, he collected the bags he’d packed two days prior and set off for the coaching inn. A drizzle had started while he’d been inside, the fine water droplets misting the afternoon air and dampening the wool of his jacket. He hailed a hackney and gave the coachman directions before climbing in. Twenty minutes later, he arrived at Charring Cross with an hour to spare before his departure at three, allowing him just enough time to enjoy a tankard of ale and a bite of food without rushing.
Bags in hand and with a satchel flung over his shoulder, he greeted the innkeeper from whom he’d initially purchased his ticket and entered the taproom. The space was starting to fill up a bit at this hour. He glanced around and, spotting a vacant table in the far corner, proceeded toward it.
“Sorry,” he said when he accidentally jostled a seated man’s shoulder with his bag. The fellow muttered a gruff complaint but waved Marcus off. The rattle of dice on a tabletop drew his attention to a game of hazard being played nearby.
He swung his gaze away and continued onward, almost reaching the vacant spot he’d sought out when a woman sitting a bit further on looked up. Marcus started with recognition. “Hannah? What on earth are you doing here?”
“I...um...came for a drink?”
She smiled with a bit too much exaggeration for Marcus’s liking. Something was up. He passed the table where he’d intended to sit and took a seat at hers instead. “A bit far from Mayfair for that. Wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s…er...my afternoon off.” She took a huge gulp from her tankard and wiped the foam from her mouth. “What brings you here, Mr. Berkly?”
Marcus frowned. “My trip to Berlin.”
“Oh. Yes. I thought you’d already left.” She gave him a peculiar look and carefully asked. “Why are you still here?”
“Something came up. I got delayed.” He tilted his head and studied her, noted the satchel she held in her lap. “How about you?”
