Chapter Two #2
‘Yes, they are simply gorgeous,’ Ophelia agreed. She took out the small box, showed Trudy a card, and then tucked it all safely back within her reticule again.
‘Congratulations,’ Trudy offered and gave Ophelia a hug. ‘I know you will be brilliant at it.’
‘Thank you,’ she said feeling a trill of excitement about her new venture.
‘Trudy, do tell me about this future science lab of yours. It sounds fascinating,’ Daphne inquired. As the two of them conversed, Ophelia fell into a companionable silence next to them as they began the walk back to the manor.
It was a perfect crisp September day with a clear bright blue sky.
She adjusted her bonnet to shade her eyes and tucked her wrap around her shoulders as a small breeze greeted her.
Walking down the street, she noted the sheer variety and number of fine shops once more as they passed.
There were so many compared to Stow. It was simply overwhelming.
As she glanced through the windows and watched customers mingling with shopkeepers displaying their wares, she wondered who her first client would be.
Perhaps the daughter of a duke or son of an earl?
Or an aged widower looking for a new bride?
She had made quite the match for Daphne.
It was that very match that had sparked Ophelia’s desire to create a business of her own to earn enough coin to claim her independence.
While the match had not been her first, it had been her first for a member of Society.
Hattie and Trudy had taken care of her long enough.
As the youngest of the three of them, it was time for her to stand on her own two feet.
Well, it would be after she secured her first client for her new agency.
She also hoped she could find her own match in London, just as Daphne had suggested.
Nothing was more captivating to her than true love and the idea of meeting one’s perfect match and life partner.
She sighed. A flutter of excitement and expectation about such a possibility made her steps lighter.
How many afternoons had she wiled away dreaming of having a family with a husband who loved and cherished her? Far too many to count.
She loved romance and knew she wanted a prince of her own just like Hattie had found in William when she’d served as his daughter’s governess this past summer.
Ophelia’s chest tightened. But she also feared loving someone and being abandoned like she had been by her birth father, who’d supposedly been a man of breeding she had never met.
It was that unknown that had bonded her so strongly with Hattie and Trudy when she had arrived that first day at the orphanage after her mother died so many years ago.
They also did not know their fathers and were products of affairs, just as she was.
While she preferred not to label herself a bastard, she was unwanted and unclaimed, which was the same thing, according to Society.
There was no denying such a fact, and the reminder of that rejection stung her every day, threatening to undermine her confidence.
She had learned to hide it under her wide smiles, joy and beauty, hoping no one saw.
But it was always there.
That ugly little voice, reminding her she wasn’t good enough, was like an itch under her skin she could never ease.
She squared her shoulders and continued down the street, forcing the voice from her head.
She would savor the bliss of her new cards and for accomplishing the first task on her very long to-do list of items to tackle before the New Year, when she and Trudy were due to return to their lives in Stow.
Focusing on the success of her business was most important, not finding her prince. At least for now.
‘What has you so quiet?’ Trudy asked.
Ophelia looked up and focused on her surroundings. To her dismay she had been woolgathering and missed the entire thread of their conversation.
‘Dreaming of the future?’ Daphne said with a wink.
Ophelia blushed. ‘Yes. My apologies. I was lost in thought.’
‘Trudy and I were eyeing the bakery ahead. Smells heavenly. Would you like anything, my dear?’
‘Oh, no. I am fine, but do go on in. I will wait here. I am enjoying the fine weather.’
They stopped in front of it and Ophelia stepped to the side as they went in.
The day was simply perfect. The wind ruffled her hat, and she had to grab it quickly before it blew away.
Just then, a boy ran up behind her, knocked into her and yanked her reticule from where it dangled from her other wrist and took off with it.
No, no, no. Her cards!
‘Stop! Thief!’ she called before lifting her skirts and running after him.
Unfortunately, her new corset and fancy gown, one of the many from the new wardrobes Hattie and William had insisted Ophelia and Trudy have made for them to ease their transition into London Society, slowed her advance, and soon the boy was lengths ahead.
She called out again for him to stop. To her dismay, no one else intervened in her plight.
They merely watched her fading pursuit and went back to their own affairs.
A carriage ambled by, slowing to the scene.
‘Stop! Thief!’ she called out again despite her increasing breathlessness. If only she was wearing her simple day dress from Stow. Then she would have been able to catch the little bandit.
To her surprise, the carriage came to a full stop and a large man burst from it so quickly that the carriage door clapped hard against the shell of it, startling the horses.
He took off in the direction of her attacker, and the pair of them disappeared around the bend down a side street.
The driver hopped down to close the carriage door before he drove off to follow the direction of his master.
Ophelia slowed to a stop and stamped her foot in disgust.
Drat. Her cards were gone.
And she’d only just got them. Why did such ridiculous things always seem to happen to her?
She would never hear the end of it from Hattie and Trudy, as this was not her first scrape, and, worse, she’d spent a great deal of coin on them.
She’d worked for weeks at the shop in Stow to save that much money.
If she wasn’t such a lady she would have erupted in a string of curses unsavory enough to quell a sailor’s tongue.
Now she had a business, but no calling cards. How would she ever manage? Her eyes welled. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Sisters for ever, tears never.
The familiar chant she, Hattie and Trudy always said helped cool her emotions. She squared her shoulders, took a calming breath and blinked back her tears.
‘Something will present itself as a solution,’ she said aloud to no one in particular except herself. The universe would provide for her, so she needed to trust that this setback was part of a greater plan.
Even if she felt dreadful at this present moment.
Several minutes passed. Ophelia groaned, having given up hope on ever seeing her beloved calling cards and reticule again.
She looked up at her surroundings and stifled another curse.
She also had no idea where she was now as she must have run further than she’d thought.
The small map she had created for herself after she’d become lost in London the first time was tucked safely in her stolen reticule, as well.
Blast. She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration.
All would be well…somehow.
She took another calming breath, looked up and studied the skyline.
Ah! The spire of St George’s Church at Hanover Square rose in the distance.
Perhaps if she just headed towards the church, she could navigate her way.
She knew it was within walking distance of Westchester Manor.
She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and began walking.
She would either intercept Hattie and Daphne as she travelled, as they were no doubt in search of her by now, or she would recognise another landmark, which would bring her back home.
All would be well.
The sounds of an approaching carriage rumbling along the road rallied her attention.
‘Excuse me, miss!’ a man bellowed from the carriage window, which had been lowered.
Startled, she came to a stop. Ophelia looked up to see a rather handsome man with a large scar running along his cheek and neck.
His brown hair was wild and full, and his clothes looked as if they could scarcely contain him and his power.
Her throat dried. Perhaps the universe was bringing her a fine gift after all to make up for the strains of the day.
Was he to be her prince?
‘Yes, sir?’ Ophelia replied, eager to hear his next words.
The carriage stopped and he stepped out onto the cobblestones. ‘I believe this is yours,’ he said, extending her embroidered reticule to her.
She gasped and smiled, clapping her hands together in delight. ‘Thank you, sir. I am grateful for your assistance.’
He must have been the man who gave chase to the thief and disappeared around the bend after her assailant.
It was hard to tell, as she had only seen the back of him before.
‘I did not think to ever see it again.’ She clutched it in her hands and opened it.
Her cards were still safely tucked in their neat white box. She sighed in relief.
‘There you are, my lovelies!’ she whispered down to them, overjoyed to have recovered them.
She glanced up to find him staring at her in confusion. His hazel eyes wide with curiosity.
She chuckled. ‘My cards, sir. I had just purchased them, and I am so grateful to have them back.’
‘Cards?’ he asked, his brow furrowing.
‘Yes. Calling cards from the printers. I am starting my own business, you see.’
He continued gazing upon her blankly, so she gently pulled a card from the box and extended it to him. It seemed only fitting that he should receive the first one. He had rescued them, after all.