opinion would only be hastened by the speedy performance of the business in hand.
“Come.” He gestured to the open front door, where the carriage waited, set his plumed hat upon his head, and followed the pair. “Susan, you may ride upon the box.”
Susan climbed up to sit beside the coachman, very much wishing that she could have exchanged a glance with Polly. The sedate Kincaid household had achieved a most lively addition, one who was like to create a fair number of sparks if she continued to bask in the favor of my lord and the disfavor of my lady.
“The Royal Exchange,” Kincaid instructed the coachman, before climbing into the carriage behind Polly, who took her seat, patting the leather squabs with an appreciative hand. This carriage was a far cry from the hackney of the previous evening.
“It is a most elegant coach, sir,” she said politely. Her gaze ran approvingly over his attire as he sat opposite her, adroitly swinging his sword to one side so that it would not catch between his legs. “And you are a most proper gentleman, my lord.”
Nicholas’s lips twitched, but he accepted the compliment with a gracious bow of his head.
“You were not quite so magnificent last night,” Polly continued, as if apologizing for not having complimented her companion earlier.
“One dresses rather differently when one is intending to visit the court from when one is frequenting a wharfside tavern,” he explained solemnly.
“I imagine so,” agreed Polly, frowning. “But I do not understand why you would wish to frequent a wharfside tavern when you can go to court or … or even to the playhouse.”
“Have you ever been to the play?” Nicholas asked curiously, hoping to take her mind off her question… Her eyes glowed as she shook her head. “Not to a real playhouse, no; but Twelfth Night four years ago, a troupe of strolling players came to the Dog tavern and put on an entertainment to pay for their cakes and ale. It was wonderful!” The glow deepened as she seemed to be looking into another world. “The costumes and the dancing. They let me take part a little and said I had some talent.” She shot him an almost defiant look as if daring him to contradict her. “They would have taken me with them, only Josh overheard me asking; so I got his belt instead.” She shrugged, cheerfully insouciant. “But I am going to be a good actor.”
“That would not surprise me in the least,” he said mildly, and Polly looked instantly gratified. “I have witnessed a fair number of your performances since last evening.”
There was something in his tone that took a little of the gilt from the statement, but the carriage at this point came to a halt, and Polly, pulling aside the leather curtain, gazed upon the riotous bustle of the Royal Exchange, where stall keepers jostled for custom, calling out their wares to prospective shoppers, maids and mistresses, gentlemen and loungers, who picked over the merchandise and haggled over the prices.
Polly had her hand on the door latch, ready to leap to the ground, when his lordship spoke with soft determination behind her. “Nay, you must stay in the carriage. You cannot possibly show yourself in public in such undress.”
Her face fell ludicrously, all the glow and sparkle fading from those great eyes. “But I have never before seen such a place. I will pull the cloak around me—”
“Nay!” he repeated, sharply this time. “It is freezing outside. You exposed yourself to the elements sufficiently last evening.” Stepping past her, he sprang lightly to the ground, where Susan already stood in attendance. He closed the carriage door firmly, then, although he knew it to be a mistake, glanced upward. Polly looked at him through the window, as pathetic as any prisoner, as appealing as a drooping violetafter a rainstorm. Kincaid sighed. “If you promise not to set the hothouse on its heels with your wailing, we will stop here on the way back, and you may explore to
“Come.” He gestured to the open front door, where the carriage waited, set his plumed hat upon his head, and followed the pair. “Susan, you may ride upon the box.”
Susan climbed up to sit beside the coachman, very much wishing that she could have exchanged a glance with Polly. The sedate Kincaid household had achieved a most lively addition, one who was like to create a fair number of sparks if she continued to bask in the favor of my lord and the disfavor of my lady.
“The Royal Exchange,” Kincaid instructed the coachman, before climbing into the carriage behind Polly, who took her seat, patting the leather squabs with an appreciative hand. This carriage was a far cry from the hackney of the previous evening.
“It is a most elegant coach, sir,” she said politely. Her gaze ran approvingly over his attire as he sat opposite her, adroitly swinging his sword to one side so that it would not catch between his legs. “And you are a most proper gentleman, my lord.”
Nicholas’s lips twitched, but he accepted the compliment with a gracious bow of his head.
“You were not quite so magnificent last night,” Polly continued, as if apologizing for not having complimented her companion earlier.
“One dresses rather differently when one is intending to visit the court from when one is frequenting a wharfside tavern,” he explained solemnly.
“I imagine so,” agreed Polly, frowning. “But I do not understand why you would wish to frequent a wharfside tavern when you can go to court or … or even to the playhouse.”
“Have you ever been to the play?” Nicholas asked curiously, hoping to take her mind off her question… Her eyes glowed as she shook her head. “Not to a real playhouse, no; but Twelfth Night four years ago, a troupe of strolling players came to the Dog tavern and put on an entertainment to pay for their cakes and ale. It was wonderful!” The glow deepened as she seemed to be looking into another world. “The costumes and the dancing. They let me take part a little and said I had some talent.” She shot him an almost defiant look as if daring him to contradict her. “They would have taken me with them, only Josh overheard me asking; so I got his belt instead.” She shrugged, cheerfully insouciant. “But I am going to be a good actor.”
“That would not surprise me in the least,” he said mildly, and Polly looked instantly gratified. “I have witnessed a fair number of your performances since last evening.”
There was something in his tone that took a little of the gilt from the statement, but the carriage at this point came to a halt, and Polly, pulling aside the leather curtain, gazed upon the riotous bustle of the Royal Exchange, where stall keepers jostled for custom, calling out their wares to prospective shoppers, maids and mistresses, gentlemen and loungers, who picked over the merchandise and haggled over the prices.
Polly had her hand on the door latch, ready to leap to the ground, when his lordship spoke with soft determination behind her. “Nay, you must stay in the carriage. You cannot possibly show yourself in public in such undress.”
Her face fell ludicrously, all the glow and sparkle fading from those great eyes. “But I have never before seen such a place. I will pull the cloak around me—”
“Nay!” he repeated, sharply this time. “It is freezing outside. You exposed yourself to the elements sufficiently last evening.” Stepping past her, he sprang lightly to the ground, where Susan already stood in attendance. He closed the carriage door firmly, then, although he knew it to be a mistake, glanced upward. Polly looked at him through the window, as pathetic as any prisoner, as appealing as a drooping violetafter a rainstorm. Kincaid sighed. “If you promise not to set the hothouse on its heels with your wailing, we will stop here on the way back, and you may explore to
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