Chapter Ten
The late morning sun filtered softly through the gray London sky, casting a light haze over the cobblestone streets.
Hugo leaned against a stone wall on the corner of the shop-lined street.
His gaze flicked continuously toward the hat shop across the lane, while Arthur’s gaze grew more and more amused.
Tucked cozily between a bookseller and plumassier, the millinery beckoned customers with its windows piled high in velvet bonnets and feathered caps. But hats were the furthest thing from Hugo’s mind.
Arthur nudged Hugo with a conspiratorial grin. “There he is, Hugo. And he looks to be triumphant.”
He nodded at the young boy who had just exited the shop and was hastening in their direction. Hugo ignored his brother and moved toward the boy who greeted him with a grin.
“Did they have it?” Hugo asked.
“Aye, milord. I did just as you said and asked did they have the marquess’s mail. The missus gave me this.”
He handed Hugo the letter, its wax seal with its simple leaf motif sending a thrill through his chest.
“Thank you,” he said, flipping a coin to the boy. “Be here this time next week and I’ll have another for you.”
“Aye, sir. Thank ’ee!”
Hugo stared at the letter for a second before slipping it into his inner pocket.
Arthur just shook his head, his grin grating on Hugo’s nerves. “You’ve that look again, Hugo. The one you wear when you have a secret tucked under your arm. Another missive from your mysterious lady, I’d wager?”
Hugo tried for nonchalance but failed. “It is merely a letter,” he replied, though the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. “A friendly exchange. Miss Millinery is…well, someone with whom I can be candid. It is freeing, Arthur, to speak honestly, with no fear of consequence.”
“Or so you hope,” Arthur teased, eyebrows raised. “You have no true idea with whom you correspond. What if she’s the baker’s daughter, or a bored countess, or a clever maid with an eye for mischief?”
Hugo smiled, the memory of Miss Millinery’s last letter flickering in his thoughts—her wit, her insight, her gentle rebukes.
“What if she is? It is no matter. We are…” He struggled to find the words.
Finally, he shrugged. “We are friends. Our letters are a refuge, for us both. I can say things to this lady I would never dare say in other circles. And there is no judgement in response. In fact, oftentimes she agrees with me.”
“Ah, a woman whose presence you never have to suffer, who agrees with everything you say without judgement. I now see the appeal.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not like that. She doesn’t agree with everything I say. In fact, she argues quite frequently. But…she never thinks the less of me for the disagreement.”
Arthur nodded. “And do you return the favor?” Arthur countered. “Does she divulge secrets for which you do not judge? Or are you simply enamored with the idea of being understood?”
Hugo considered this. “Both. Is it so wrong to crave genuine conversation?”
Arthur’s grin softened. “Not wrong, Hugo. Only dangerous. You grow too enamored of this woman, I fear. And hearts are tender and fickle things. Never safe, especially when the object of its affection is hidden behind ink and paper.”
With a gentle shake of his head, Hugo let the subject drop. He could not explain it better than he already had and was tired of trying. His correspondence with his Miss Millinery was something he treasured. And in the end, it did not matter if anyone but he understood it.
They had wandered toward a bustling section of the marketplace where multiple vendors hawked their wares.
And there, at a stall overflowing with fragrant meat pies, a familiar figure stood rigid, her face pale with embarrassment—Adaline Girard, her chestnut hair pulled back in a neat chignon and her blue pelisse fitted perfectly at the waist. She argued softly with a merchant whose patience was fraying.
Miss Girard’s gloved hands turned out her pocket, which remained stubbornly empty.
“Miss, I assure you, if you had coin, it is now gone,” the merchant said, his lips pursed in disapproval. “I warned you not to feed that urchin, but you didn’t listen. He took the pies and your coin and now you want to leave me here with no compensation—”
“No, no, not at all,” Miss Girard insisted. “I can fetch the money, but I cannot do that if I remain here. I give you my word, I will return promptly. Or if my maid would—”
“Not likely, miss,” her maid said, her arms folded and feet firmly planted behind her.
“I’ll not leave you here on your own, nor will I stay behind and allow you to travel back home on your own.
What would your mother say? Anything could happen and you here unaccompanied.
” She shook her head firmly. “No, miss. My place is with you. I’ll not leave your side. ”
Miss Girard closed her eyes and heaved a mighty sigh. Hugo could not help but smile. He knew the sentiment behind that sigh.
“Go ahead without me, Arthur,” he said, his gaze remaining on Miss Girard.
Arthur glanced back and forth between them. “Is that wise? The last time you met, you nearly came to blows.”
“That is a severe over-exaggeration,” he said with a scoff.
Well, perhaps not severe…
“She may not even accept your help. The woman despises you.”
Hugo snorted. “With good reason.” Then he shrugged. “Regardless, I cannot leave a lady in need of help. Even one who hates me.”
“Very well. But I do believe I shall stay and watch.”
Hugo’s eyes narrowed, and Arthur shrugged. “I have no doubt that woman would gladly challenge you to a duel. You may need a second. Or an alibi.”
Hugo hesitated only a moment longer before crossing the narrow lane, Arthur following at a slight distance.
“Miss Girard,” Hugo said softly as he approached, careful not to startle her. The merchant’s gaze flickered between them, calculating.
Adaline’s eyes widened, her cheeks blooming pink. “My lord,” she managed, voice taut.
“I see you are in a difficulty,” Hugo replied, his tone gentle.
Her lips pinched together before she gave a sharp shake of her head. “I am quite all right.”
“No, she isn’t,” the merchant jumped in, wagging a finger. “She—”
Hugo held up a hand to stop him. “Permit me to settle the account.”
She protested again. “That isn’t necess—”
“Yes it is!” the merchant interrupted.
Before Miss Girard could protest further, Hugo withdrew his pocketbook and handed the merchant several coins. More than enough to pay for whatever pies Miss Girard had tried to purchase. The man’s demeanor changed at once. He bowed, offering profuse thanks.
Miss Girard’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You needn’t have interfered, my lord. He would have relented eventually and allowed me to return—”
“But this way the matter is settled, and you may leave the marketplace. With your chaperone,” he said with a gallant nod at her maid. At least she was smiling at him gratefully. Miss Girard, on the other hand, looked as though she was about to toss him into the Thames.
Arthur, damn him, leaned against a nearby stall, his face alight with amusement.
Miss Girard’s gaze followed his, and Arthur stepped forward, bowing with easy charm.
“Miss Girard. We have not yet met. I am Lord Arthur Brelsford. Delighted to make your acquaintance.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you?”
Arthur didn’t even blink, obviously not surprised by her coolness.
He merely gave her a gracious smile. “Of course. Even under less than ideal circumstances.” He flashed Hugo a wink, then tipped his hat.
“Alas, I must leave you in my brother’s capable hands.
Hugo, try not to provoke further disaster. ”
Miss Girard gave a curt nod, her eyes wary. “Thank you, Lord Arthur.”
Arthur disappeared into the crowd with a final wave, leaving Hugo and Miss Girard standing in tense silence.
Hugo cleared his throat. “May I walk you to your carriage? It seems your footman is elsewhere, and you have already had enough trouble for one day.”
Miss Girard’s gaze flicked to the bustling street, searching for any sign of her absent attendant. She hesitated, pride warring with practicality. “If you wish,” she said quietly, “though I assure you, it is not my custom to accept aid.”
“Consider it penance,” Hugo replied, lips twitching with humor. “For past offenses, if nothing else.”
Miss Girard bit back a smile, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. “I appreciate the sentiment, my lord. But it will take a great deal more than a few coins and an escort to my carriage to atone for all your sins.”
Hugo chuckled at that. “Of that I am painfully aware, Miss Girard. Let us consider this a start.”
Together, they set off along the winding path toward the upper square, where carriages lined the curb in neat ranks, their drivers exchanging gossip and news. The crowd parted just enough for them to walk side by side, a breath of air keeping their shoulders from brushing together with every step.
For several moments, silence reigned, broken only by the clatter of hooves and the distant laughter of children. Miss Girard adjusted her gloves, her gaze fixed on a passing flower seller whose baskets overflowed with violets.
“I did not wish to embarrass you,” Hugo finally said. “Only to help. I do sincerely apologize if my assistance caused you any discomfort.”
Miss Girard’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “You have a talent for finding me in awkward situations, my lord.”
He winced. “I do seem to be cursed in that respect. I hope you forgive me for asking but… Was it truly a pickpocket? The market is rife with them,” he hurried to explain.
“I have twice lost my own coin purse to their nimble fingers. In fact, not three years ago, in this very square, my brother Arthur fell prey to the same scoundrels.”