Page 256 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

Heard him talking with afemale.

In the middle of the night? When all was quiet beyond the shop. Silent beyond the two murmuring voices.

The elegant tones of the feminine one making Luce’s stomach clench. Did Mr. Chapman yet woo another?

And what of it? Do you think a flirt or two means he is wooing you?

Well, no. Not entirely. No matter that one might hope—

Are you not to interview in two scant days and take yourself off? The life of a woman dependent upon the largesse of others, even if that largesse is dependent upon your efforts?

Disappointment anchoring her bare feet to the room she’d been allotted, she returned to the dreaded cot for however many more interminable hours remained until sunrise. But even wrapping her head in the blankets couldn’t stop the quietthumpwhen the door closed.

With Mr. Chapman on theotherside of it.

* * *

A Few Moments Prior…

After he’d pacified his belly and bladder and propped the back door open to allow a restless Barnabas out for a bit, Brier lounged half in/half out, waiting for his feline to return—and with the requesteddeadmouse. Or remains thereof.

“I’m not particular,” he’d told the disappearing cat.

Now that it had finally stopped sleeting, though bone-chillingly cold, the brisk air felt invigorating to his un-jacketed form. The pinch to his lungs had nothing to do with the woman sleeping a few feet away, and everything to do with the frigid temperatures.

Keep telling yourself that, mate.

He would. Until he believed it.

An odd thump-scraping noise had him venturing a few feet beyond the shop, staring into the dim night now that his eyes had adjusted enough to see. But the sight of another tradesman—tradeswoman—dragging a heavy crate his direction, caused his chest to pinch for an entirely different reason.

For she was a female he recognized, despite their environs. One who should not be out this late. “Mrs. Hurwell!” he called, his legs making fast work of the distance remaining between them. What was his neighbor doing in the alley behind the shops? “How may I assist?”

“Mr. Chapman. How wondrous…to see you at this hour.” She was woefully out of breath, back bent, arms outstretched so that her gloved hands grasped the ropes tied around the wooden rectangle. “You will be my…salvation tonight.”

Why was her blight of a husband not lugging this burden?

Mr. Hurwell, the proprietor ofThe Time Piece, a clock shop and watch repair service of sorts located a few stores beyond, had an unhealthy predilection for gambling on horse races—if his trite equine-focused conversations were to judge by.

Brier was all-too-happy to avoid the somewhat older, oft obsequious man when he could. His wife, now? Younger than Brier by a number of years, Hurwell’s missus was vastly more pleasant than the codger she’d married. But why was she out unescorted?

“Here, let me.” He took possession of the nearest corners and heaved. How had she made it this far on her own? “Your destination?”

“Chapman’s,” she said with a slight grunt, turning to push her hip into it as he hauled. The diminutive Mrs. Hurwell, with her wealth of midnight hair and softly attractive bearing, was a pure waste on the old man her father had bound her to. Brier made it a point to check on her when he knew Hurwell was out of town, but he’d had no such knowledge this week. “Is Mr. Hurwell away from London? Traveling to see family?”

And without you?he wanted to shout but bit back out of respect.

“Nay.” He took the ropes she’d been tugging by and pulled them loose so she could slip her scantly gloved hands free. Slowly reclaiming her breath, she straightened with a smile and pointed. “Yours, I believe. The crate. Delivered to our door by mistake. My husband is gone from home this eve, and not knowing what might be inside, I did not want your goods to wait.”

“Thank you, but there was no need. A simple note or visit would have had me assisting you in a trice. And it certainly could have waited until tomorrow.”

“Doubtful. It was left outside, along with one of ours. Any longer and footpads would have surely helped themselves. Only the weather kept it safe this long, I am sure.” She glanced behind her at the alley she’d traversed, looking back at him with a bit of dismay—as though only now realizing what sort of danger she’d put herself in. “It isn’t horridly far, and truth be told, I did not mind getting out.” She mashed her lips together as though guilt loomed for offering such. “I confess, being cooped up in the shop without respite can be rather trying. But enough of that. I saw your new display—the horses and carriage are sparkish fine indeed.”

He nodded, accepting the rare compliment for his efforts. “You must not have been by the front today, then?”

A brief shake of her heart-shaped face above a plain brown scarf wrapped tightly against the elements said she had not. “Did it sell?”

“Nothing so grand. Barnabas decided he wanted more room in the window.”

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