Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I pull on my boots and make haste to the door. ‘Goodbye,’ I call back, hurrying to Eliza’s room and bursting in unannounced. She looks me up and down on an extremely heavy brow. ‘You’re still here?’
‘Where will I find your husband?’
‘What have you done, Frank?’
‘Answer me, Eliza,’ I hiss, feeling the pressure. It could take me all night to track him down. I imagine it’ll take me even longer to convince him that my intentions are honourable.
‘He was to have drinks at Gladstone’s.’ She looks at the carriage clock on the mantel piece. ‘But he was due to meet the owner of the printer manufacturer to celebrate their official partnership at seven o’clock.’
I, too, glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes past six o’clock. ‘Bugger it all to hell,’ I mutter, closing the door and hurrying through the house. I break out onto the square and jog to the main road, searching for a hackney carriage. Typical in an emergency, there is not one to be seen, and it will take Kip far too long to saddle up Figaro, so I continue my jog towards Gladstone’s, people jumping from my charging path on yelps and gasps as I go.
Chapter 23
I am not a born athlete, I can be sure of that, despite having the frame of one. I cut through the royal park, seeing Mama walking with her friends and Lady Wisteria, and they stop as I race past, watching with alarm as I go. ‘Frank?’ Mama calls, her voice caught up in the breeze whooshing past my ears.
‘Can’t stop, Mama,’ I yell back, starting to get quite out of breath. By the time I reach the edge of the royal park, I am disturbingly weary, and I am forced to take a breather, my hands braced on my knees to hold me up.
‘In a rush?’
I look up and find Esther Hamsley sitting side-saddle on a chestnut-coloured horse. She appears quite smiley, looks prettier than I am used to, and she is definitely carrying an air of confidence that I have never seen on her before. ‘Indeed I am,’ I pant, trying to straighten.
‘I must thank you, Mr Melrose,’ she says, appearing to ignore my answer or exhausted form.
‘Whatever for?’
‘For dancing with me.’
‘Oh?’ I answer quietly. Pray do tell me I have not won myself her affections and have to break the news that my heart belongs to another.
‘Yes. Your interest certainly prompted the attention of many gentlemen.’
‘Oh …’
She grins, and it’s impish. ‘Father has had three men call for me in the past two days!’ She slips down from her horse.
Her declaration has me glancing around, looking for who may be chaperoning her. I spy her mother by a tree chatting with a few other ladies. ‘That’s truly wonderful, really, it is, but I––’
‘They are all very handsome, you know.’
‘I expect they a––’
‘And wealthy too!’
‘That’s––’
‘You know this is my fifth season, don’t you, Mr Melrose?’
My shoulders drop, and I simply cannot bring myself to rain on her parade. ‘I do know that, Miss Hamsley, and I know not why, for you are a very attractive female that many men should be queuing around Belmore Square to court.’
She giggles, blushing profusely. ‘You aren’t half as bad as they say, you know.’
Who are they, and what are they saying? Need I ask? Probably not. Besides, I do not have time. ‘I’m very happy for you.’
‘Why thank you, I am very happy for myself too. You must let me repay you.’
Ah. Now we are talking. ‘I have just the way in which you can do that.’
‘You do?’
‘May I borrow your horse?’
‘What?’
‘I have an emergency, you see. I shall, of course, return it, fed, watered, and groomed.’
‘Oh, well,’ she looks between me and her mare. ‘I suppose––’
‘Thank you.’ I grab the reins, place my foot in the stirrup, and haul myself up. ‘Good day to you, Miss Hamsley,’ I say, cracking the reins and breaking out in a canter, charging towards Gladstone’s.
‘Good luck!’ she yells after me.
‘I’m going to need it,’ I say, standing in the saddle, jerking the reins, quite sure this poor horse has not been working so hard and is used only to trotting around town with Esther Hamsley sitting side-saddle.
By the time I make it to Gladstone’s, it is fifteen minutes to seven o’clock. I leave the horse with a boy, slipping him a few shillings to ensure it is looked after while I’m gone and given plenty of water.
As I approach the entrance, I rake a hand through my hair and straighten out my jacket, as if my appearance might sway the Duke’s mood or decision when I confess my love for Taya. I enter and spot him in the corner with Sampson, just the two of them sitting at a table, leaning in, whispering. Business. And what ‘business’ might that be? It is a stupid question, I know it. Taya is the business. They are plotting what is to be done with her once they have forced her away from London, away from me. I blow out my cheeks, my task appearing more mammoth by the second. I need a drink. Perhaps a few. Yes, a little Dutch courage before I face the grizzly Winters bears. I find a table in the corner, out of sight of the brothers, but where I can simply crane my head to see them while I drink some courage. I order a gin and it is soon before me. It is also soon gone. ‘Another,’ I say, peeking round the corner, mentally planning my speech. Another gin arrives and another is sunk. ‘One more,’ I say, reaching for some coins. Another gin is poured, and I drink it in one fell swoop again. Enough, or I will be slurring my pleas for some blessings and mercy, and slow in ducking should either of them swing at me.