Chapter 36
Sherbrooke townhouse
Portman Square
London
“The hackney doesn’t smell, but still, all sorts of people have ridden in this carriage, sat on these seats. What will people think if they see Lady Camilla Rohman riding in a rented hackney?”
Cam was almost too excited and scared to think, but finally, she managed, “You’re a snob, Cilly.
” Distract her, distract her. And so she did.
“Forget the hackney, think about how we traveled all the way from Bath to London in the magnificent steam train. I only wish we could have ridden in her maiden trip to Bath. Can you imagine? Cilly, can you believe it only took us eight hours to arrive in London and only four stops? And none at all after Reading.”
Cilly said, “I know, I know, and now you’re going to have to repeat to me we had to have the stops, more water and more coal and just look at all the people who want to go to London with us. I didn’t like the hopper.”
Cam laughed at her. “But it was a first-class hopper. All right, so the small compartment with a seat with a hole in the middle open over the tracks was a bit different, but better than stopping by the side of the road on a long carriage ride, don’t you agree? And you could close and lock the door.”
Cilly had to agree.
Keep going, keep her distracted. She gave Cilly her most winsome smile. “And the seats were wonderful, the cushions so thick and comfortable, well, at least in first class. We didn’t have to eat their food either.”
Cilly said, “All right. We had a lovely lunch packed for us by Mrs. Tartle, not that I am particularly fond of the goat cheese she adores and no one else does.”
Who cared about cheese? Cam said again, enthusiasm bubbling, “Just imagine, Cilly, only eight hours from Bath to London. Finch saw us and our luggage on the train in Bath at nine o’clock this morning and now it’s not quite six o’clock in the evening. It’s amazing—we live in an age of miracles.”
Cilly looked out the window. “Yes, yes, all that is true. It’s going to be dark soon and here we are in a carriage with no escort. How much longer?”
“We have another half hour until it’s full dark. It’s only dusk.”
Cilly stared out the window again, she frowned. “Now what is this? I don’t think we’re going in the right direction.”
Cam said quickly, “Our driver is probably taking a different route. Distract, distract. “Remember just two years ago how long it took us to travel by carriage from London to Bath? The endless hours riding in a swaying carriage, the posting houses with so much noise and as for the bed, who knew what you would be sleeping on, a board or a spring sticking in your back? Ah, Cilly, we are so lucky to live now in such an incredible age.” How many ways could she say the same thing? She started to say it was no wonder Alex was so excited about trains, so eager to make them better and better. But she managed to keep her mouth shut. “Weren’t you impressed with the new Paddington Station?”
“It was loud and dirty and a rabbit warren. Too many people, all scurrying about trying to find their trains and even the blessed porters didn’t know.
“Wait, this is Paulson Street, I recognize the redbrick house on the corner—”
“We were lucky. Our three young porters took excellent care of us. We didn’t have to do a thing and they did at least know what route to get outside.”
“Come, Cam, you had to pretend to be helpless and lost, which you were, and they came running because you’re so lovely, well, and so am I and—”
Cam said, “Oh no, the lads recognized the expensive cashmere jacket and knew there’d be coin in it for them. And your lovely eyes as well.”
Cilly didn’t shake her head. She knew the power of her eyes. She smiled. “The one young man—remember how he hastened to tell you his name—Jedediah Spring—and he called two other young men to carry out luggage, while he directed them.”
“Jedediah even turned down three hackneys until one was clean enough to suit him—and us.”
The hackney pulled to a stop.
Here at last.
Cilly leaned out the window. “Wait, this isn’t Ormond Square.
This isn’t your father’s house. Cam, I know where we are.
It’s the Sherbrooke townhouse.” She whipped around.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You didn’t tell me we were coming here.
This is where Alex Ivanov lives, isn’t it?
You are chasing him down here in his own home?
You little hussy! Are you mad?” She grabbed Cam’s arm.
“Listen to me, Cam. I know Alex Ivanov is, well, to be frank, a beautiful young man, I’ll admit that, but you’ve lost your reason if you think it is at all acceptable to chase him down like a hare.
It isn’t done, particularly by a young lady who would lose everything—her reputation, her good name, not to mention ruining her family. ”
She smacked her own forehead. “I should have known all your talk about the trains—you just wouldn’t stop—you drew me in too.
You said the same things during our journey and then you repeated it all again and again.
Your father will give me notice, he’ll see I have no character reference, I’ll starve in a ditch, and why?
Because my dratted charge lost her head and all reason over a bloody handsome face.
I should hold you down, swat you like I did when you were a little girl. ”
A burly fellow with a lovely black felt hat curled up on the sides opened their door and gave them a big gap-toothed grin.
Cam pulled free of Cilly’s arms and eased over her, quickly jumped down.
She asked him to wait, please. This was only their first stop.
Yes, she would make it worth his while. “Cilly, your swats never hurt me, too many petticoats. Now, don’t worry! I do know what I’m doing, trust me.”
“Like when you asked me to trust you when you were five years old and pulled a worm out of a crab apple and wanted to stuff it in your mouth.”
“Oh dear, I think I just tasted worm. Don’t worry, Cilly, I’ll be back in ten minutes, I promise.”
And she was off.