Page 83 of Embracing the Earl (The St. Clairs 3)

“May I hail a hansom cab for you?”

“Please.”

One came by almost immediately, the advantage of being located in Mayfair, and Walton waved the driver over, indicating the trunk.

“I suppose this is goodbye, Lady Caroline. I’ll be sure to prepare your monthly report. Did you leave a forwarding address with Mr. Stinch?”

“No, but I’ll write to you both once I’m settled.”

She turned and saw the driver waiting. “Goodbye, Mr. Walton.” She watched him return inside the bookstore and stepped toward the cab.

“Lady Caroline?”

A man hurried toward her, He looked vaguely familiar. As he approached, she recognized him as one of Netherby’s clerks, the one who’d been rude to her.

“I’m here to give you a message from Mr. Netherby. He would like to see you at once.”

“I’m afraid—”

“He knows he was wrong, my lady. My employer wishes to extend an olive branch to you.”

Caroline knew Netherby had the ear of many of London’s booksellers. She supposed it would be best to part with him on good terms before she left the city.

“I only have a few minutes to spare,” she told the clerk. “I need to make the noon mail coach to Dover.”

He smiled. “Oh, it won’t take long.” He handed her into the cab. “Let me tell the driver where we’re headed. That is, if you don’t mind sharing the cab with me.”

She did, not liking this fellow one bit, but she refused to be petty. “Not at all.”

The clerk spoke to the driver and joined her.

Trying to be polite, she asked, “Have you worked for Mr. Netherby for long?”

“Several years.”

An awkward silence fell and Caroline looked out the window to avoid further conversation. She noticed after a few blocks they were headed in the wrong direction.

“You need to tell the driver he’s missed his turn.”

“Oh, we’re not going to the bookstore. Mr. Netherby isn’t there now. He’s at home.”

Frowning, she said, “I don’t have time to go out of my way. I told you I am in a hurry.”

“It will actually save you time. We’re headed in the direction of where the mail coaches leave London.”

“Very well.” She wasn’t pleased and continued to stare out the window, lost in thought.

When the cab came to a halt, she looked at her surroundings and didn’t recognize the part of town they were in. It looked seedy to her and she couldn’t understand why Netherby would want to live here. The clerk, who’d never given her his name, jumped down and paid the driver, then handed her down.

Worried, Caroline looked at the driver. “You are to wait,” she instructed. “I won’t be but a few minutes.”

He averted his eyes and bobbed his head up and down, giving her mixed signals. Before she could question him further, the clerk took her elbow and steered her toward a building with a bright blue door. His touch seemed forward to her and she pulled away, walking up the steps beside him. Without knocking, he opened the door and ushered her inside.

The place was dark. No drapes had been pulled to let in the morning light. She looked to her left and saw an unusually large, rectangular table and wondered why it stood in the center of the open room. No other furniture was evident.

Suddenly, a short, stout man appeared, a long scar running from the corner of his eye down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. She recoiled at the sight of him.

“Netherby’s waiting,” he said brusquely and headed up the stairs.

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