Free The Highwayman's Daughter by Henriette Gyland Page B

silence.
    ‘More than all right.’ He smiled affably. ‘I say, mistress, if a person should come into your shop wanting to sell a waistcoat of said description, would you be gracious enough to send word so I can see this person for myself?’
    ‘That depends, sir.’
    ‘Naturally.’ He fished a calling card out of his pocket and handed it to her with a flourish. ‘You will of course be generously rewarded.’
    ‘Yeah, ’ow generously?’ she asked, betraying her roots.
    ‘Five guineas.’
    ‘Ain’t no person’s conscience worth less than ten,’ she countered.
    Rupert felt the familiar rush of blood in his ears at her insolence, but he controlled himself. ‘Eight, madam. A guinea now, the rest upon delivery. Will that suffice?’
    She gave a gap-toothed smile. ‘Aye, sir, that’s very generous an’ all. You can rely on me. But don’t get your ’opes up, mind. Could be your thief has a fence and you won’t see your pretty waistcoat ever again.’
    Rupert was willing to take that risk.
    Jack had sensed the woman’s eyes upon him the moment he entered the apothecary’s shop. He was used to attracting the attention of young women, and he would have thought nothing of it if she hadn’t been so intent on hiding her face as soon as he acknowledged her presence and raised his hat politely.
    As he’d stated his business with Mr Byrd, he’d tried to catch her eye, intrigued, but she’d kept her gaze lowered.
    ‘I’ll get right to it, m’lord.’ Mr Byrd abandoned what he had been doing and turned to retrieve a delft jar from the shelf behind him.
    Jack cleared his throat and indicated the woman with the straw hat. ‘Do serve your other customer first. I’m happy to wait.’
    ‘Her errand is of minor importance, sir,’ said Mr Byrd over his shoulder.
    ‘No, I insist.’ Jack tried hard to keep the steel out of his voice. He had been born into privilege but was acutely aware that for the majority this was not so, and he was damned if he was going to get a reputation for abusing that privilege. Besides, his mother’s headache was hardly life-threatening.
    ‘Of course, m’lord. If that is your wish.’ Mr Byrd returned to his former task, mixing ingredients for a draught, by the looks of it, and Jack spent the time studying the woman. Something about her was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.
    Annoyingly she kept her face turned away so he only got a glimpse of a very pretty profile, and any attempts at engaging her in polite conversation about the weather and suchlike were similarly thwarted, apart from a mumbled, ‘Thank you kindly, sir,’ when he insisted she was to be served before him.
    The apothecary handed the woman a small glass bottle and named his price. She paid without demur. The whole transaction was conducted briskly; the apothecary because he was anxious not to offend his other, higher-ranked customer, and the girl because she seemed keen to be on her way. She put the bottle in her basket gently, as if it was a prized item.
    She walked quickly to the door, but Jack intercepted her and opened it for her. ‘Allow me.’
    For the first time she looked up, almost as if drawn to against her will, and Jack recognised her as the girl he’d had seen at the hay-making. It was her height which stood out – she barely had to lift her face to meet his gaze. He found himself being openly assessed by a pair of intelligent eyes of startling colour – so light they appeared almost luminous. He blinked in surprise; the air left his lungs with a whoosh and he struggled to speak. Her face was a perfect oval framed by masses of dark hair, which she had made a brave attempt at taming with a piece of twine, and her pert nose was sprinkled with a dusting of freckles. Such exceptional yet unsophisticated beauty was unexpected, but he hardly registered it because he was still reeling from the impact of those dazzling eyes. To calm his suddenly racing heart, he cleared his throat for a second