Page 68 of A Much Maligned Miss
“Oh no. I do not see Mr. Bailey until this afternoon,” she answered quickly. “I would love to come to breakfast with you, Gervaise. Thank you.”
“Good,” he answered briefly. “Get your cloak.”
Reg promised to feed Remus and they caught a cab outside The Citadel which Gervaise directed to The Temple. Caroline was surprised. She had a vague idea in her head that the area was largely devoted to businessmen rather than dining establishments. She also belatedly noticed that Gervaise wore his top hat and carried a cane this morning.
“You look very formal,” she remarked as the cab lurched forward. “Will your business take long?”
“Not too long, I hope,” he answered, flicking some lint from his coat sleeve.
Caroline’s eyes widened. “I hope I will not be in the way,” she said. “I suppose you could always put me in a cab and send me back home after we have eaten.”
His eyebrows rose, though she did not know if it was at the idea of sending her back or her use of the word home to refer to the gin palace. “I have no immediate plans to relinquish you from my clutches this morning,” he said arrogantly. “My business with the solicitor should not take overlong.”
“Oh.” Caroline felt a pleasurable excitement at the idea of a jaunt about London town. Drawing her cloak close about her, she gazed out at the buildings as they bowled along the busy streets. Before long the bakers and butchers and candlestick makers began to give way to law firm establishments.
“There seem to be a lot of solicitors’ offices hereabouts,” she remarked as they disembarked from the cab.
“Yes, they’re predominantly found here, as it’s the legal district,” he replied, a firm hold on her arm as he steered her along the pavement.
“What say you to this place,” he said, pointing his walking cane at a coffee house with a natty frontage of black and gold.
Instead of looking, Caroline found her attention caught by a green circular sign across the street proclaiming Forsters, Carlton, and Roxby. Why did the lettering look so oddly familiar? It seemed to jostle some recent memory that hovered on the edge of her conscious mind.
“Caroline? What is it?”
“Oh nothing! Just that sign,” she said slowly. “I feel as though I have seen it before.”
Gervaise turned his head to follow her gaze, and she felt suddenly foolish and fanciful. She had never even been to London before! Turning back to the coffee house, she pronounced, “This place looks just the thing!”
Sparing the sign one final quizzical glance, he walked her up the step to the door which opened with a jingle. “I didn’t think there was any point in taking you for bacon and eggs as you only ever breakfast on tea and toast,” he remarked, surprising her with his remembrance of this fact.
Inside, the coffee house was bustling with lots of professional-looking men in suits talking loudly as they drank their coffee. Their coats were taken, and they were led to a seat in the window and Caroline ordered a pot of tea, soft rolls, and a selection of preserves. Gervaise ordered coffee and leaned back in his chair to look at her.
“Where shall we go after you have signed your papers?” she asked when he did not speak.
“To visit a modiste’s establishment,” he answered promptly. His eyes flickered to her bonnet and then back to her face. “And then, possibly a milliner’s.”
“Oh, more shopping for me, then!”
“Indeed.”
“Won’t we need an appointment?”
“Not for the amount I mean to buy,” he answered casually.
Caroline’s eyebrows shot up, but the arrival of the waiter with her order forestalled her reply. “Thank you,” she said, savoring the fragrance of the tea and examining the little jars of marmalades and jams. “This looks lovely.”
Gervaise’s coffee was served without any accompaniment, so Caroline buttered him half of her roll. “Which marmalade will you try? Grapefruit, orange, or lime?”
He pulled a face. “None.” At her pointed look, he added, “I mean to smoke.”
“You’re not nervous, are you?”
“Nervous?”
“About your impending meeting, I mean.”
He gave a short laugh. “No, I am not nervous. It is a mere formality.”
