Page 7 of The Lion Duke's Proposal
Julia paused, digesting this latest piece of news. “So what does that mean for us?”
The driver shrugged and twisted his mouth. “O’course I’ll give back the money you paid for the trip. Can’t do much more, though. You’ll have to make your own way from here.”
Beyond his face at the window, Julia caught sight of the other driver putting his leather gloves back on and exchanging a word with the stranger, who still lingered with his eyes on their carriage. Thankfully, it seemed as though the gossiping crowd had dispersed since she shut herself away and ended the public argument; the street behind him was once again populated mainly by passersby browsing in the shops.
The stranger approached the window again as his driver headed back to his carriage. Would he offer them a ride now, perhaps, having learned that they were actually stranded? His hazel eyes carried a strange glint which Julia didn’t like the look of immediately.
“My driver informs me that your carriage is no longer serviceable,” he said, his tone measured. “As I have neither the time nor the inclination to remain here while the matter is resolved, I have instructed my driver to see your luggage delivered to your destination once I have been set down.”
Julia hesitated, her initial irritation faltering in the face of his practical, if ungracious, solution—but before she could decide how to respond, Poppy spoke. “Thank you very much. It’s a kind offer, and we would be glad to accept it.” She shot a sharp warning glare at Julia. “We are headed to the residence of Lady Bendon.”
“I know it,” he replied with a nod. “Now, if you could please vacate this cab and allow the driver to take it off to the junkyard where it belongs, I’ll see to it that your trunks are handled suitably.” He pointed down the street. “You’ll want to take that road and turn off to the left once you pass the modiste. It’s not far to Lady Bendon’s residence from there.”
Julia followed Poppy out of the carriage, burning with humiliation at having to accept this man’s help. She wished they were in a position to turn him down, but looking at the amount of trunks Poppy had brought, there was absolutely no chance of their getting them to their aunt’s house without incident if they were forced to carry the load themselves.
“Our most sincere thanks.” Poppy curtsied, then elbowed Julia, who copied her sister with gritted teeth.
“Well, I wouldn’t want anyone to think I wasn’tgentlemanly.” The stranger’s smile was smug like the cat that got the canary. He tipped his hat, then departed back to his carriage. The two drivers finished packing the trunks away, and their old carriage finally rattled off the road and out of his way. He paused at the step and looked back. “I wish you both a pleasant day, ladies. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other while you’re in town.”
“Wait, what’s your name?” Poppy called, but he had already vanished into the carriage, and they quickly had to step out of the way as the pair of great black horses trotted past. Julia made a mental note of the crest on the side, hoping to identify it later in her aunt’s library. She wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing that man again, but he seemed to be confident that they would run into each other sooner rather than later.
She sighed and linked arms with her sister. “Well, we’d better get going. Aunt Violet will be wondering what has happened to us.”
At least it is a lovely day.
There were worse things than a walk through Mayfair in the sunshine - and after all the commotion, they were to receive their whole cab fare back. Meager as it had been, she could save it to secure her transport out of London when this was all said and done. Perhaps, despite everything, this unexpected incident could turn out to be a blessing after all.
But the fleeting comfort vanished the moment she tried to hold onto it, and the stranger’s words reechoed, unwelcome and unshakable.
Not the tone, which was cool, assured, and faintly condescending. It was the certainty behind them.
He made a name for himself.
As though it was something more than a mere scandal.
Julia tightened her grip on her gloves.
She did not need a stranger to tell her who her father was—or what he had done.
And yet…
There had been confidence in the way he said it. She lifted her chin, dismissing the thought with deliberate resolve.
It did not matter.
Hedid not matter.
As Julia and Poppy turned the corner and disappeared into the flow of the street, she found, much to her irritation, that the encounter had unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
Chapter Three
“Just pull it in a little more, dear,” Lady Bendon encouraged. “That’s –it. Tight around the waist now.”
“Aunt Violet, it - simply - won’t-ouch!” Poppy gasped as Saoirse, Lady Bendon’s maid, tightened the laces of the corset even further against her straining stomach. They were situated in Poppy’s bedroom, various articles of clothing spread out all over the bed, chairs, and writing-desk in the aftermath of their aunt’s frenzied categorization spree.
Immediately upon their arrival, Lady Bendon had made a point of going through all Poppy’s dresses and separating out the correct ones for each event, noting themes, styles, and coordinating accessories.
“Beauty is pain, darling,” her aunt reminded her sagely. “You want the eligible men to notice you, don’t you?”
