Free The Lamplighter's Love by Delphine Dryden

her.
    “See to it that Amberherst is hoist on his
own petard. And I think I know just the way to do it. I’m off to
see Cyrus Smith, dearest. I’ll miss you terribly while I’m
gone.”

Chapter Seven

    “Where are we going?”
    “I’m still not telling you. And leave that
alone.” Nicholas pulled Mary’s fingers away from the knotted scarf
with which she was currently blindfolded. With an exasperated huff,
she let him take her hand and hold it as the driver of the sleek
little steamcar navigated through several more turns.
    At last, hissing and whistling as its boiler
was eased, the vehicle rattled to a stop and Nicholas lifted the
blindfold away. Mary blinked a few times, and then looked around
curiously. She saw nothing, only a rather pleasant curved street of
attractive stone and brick buildings. A few people were walking
here and there on the pavement, clearly bound to or from holiday
gatherings. Their heavy cloaks and greatcoats in no way disguising
the obvious quality of their apparel.
    “I still don’t know where we are,” Mary
said, turning to Nicholas.
    “Mayfair.”
    “I see. And why are we in Mayfair?” She
didn’t want to complain. But it had been a long day, with her shift
that morning following a nearly sleepless night, and the stress of
the altercation with Amberherst on top of it all. And, she suddenly
remembered, it was Christmas Eve. “Did you know it was Christmas
Eve?”
    “Yes. Didn’t you?”
    “Honestly, I’d forgotten all about it. Are
you going to tell me? Why do you keep smiling like that?”
    “I could tell you, but I would much rather
show you, and it’s hardly the weather for sitting out on the
street.” He nodded to the driver, who hopped out of his seat in the
cab of the smart little vehicle to open Mary’s door.
    Nicholas was waiting, arm poised for her to
take, and he led her up the steps to the nearest door before
brandishing a key with a happy little flourish.
    “You have a key to it?”
    “I do.” He opened the door and gestured for
her to precede him into the echoing marble foyer. Gas lights were
already burning, revealing the high polish of the stone and the
luminous wood of the stairway and banister that curved elegantly at
one end of the long, vaulted space.
    After a moment, he raised his eyebrows in
expectation. “Well? What do you think?”
    “It’s lovely,” she said. “What is it?”
    “A house.”
    “Yes, I can see that.”
    “I bought it this afternoon. I’ve had an
agent looking for something suitable for some time now, actually.
But the deal was closed today.”
    Mary’s world spun around for a moment, but
Nicholas was still there waiting, smiling, when she regained her
equilibrium.
    “Come and sit on the stairs and admire it
with me for a few minutes while I tell you about the rest of my
afternoon,” he suggested cheerfully, leading her to the bottom step
where she sat down more heavily than she meant to.
    “This afternoon, while you were in the
Chair,” he said, sitting next to her and stretching his long legs
out before him, “I went to have that talk with Master Smith. Who
had already had some complaints, it seems, about the incident in
the residential hall this morning. Evidently the first person upon
the scene was Master Temple, who was none too pleased to have to
deal with Amberherst, clutching his privates and attempting to
defame you, before she’d had so much as a sip of coffee.”
    “Oh, she’s very cross before breakfast,”
Mary confirmed.
    “She frogmarched the lad straight to Smith’s
office, where he pouted and stewed and made threats about what his
father would do when he found out. That went on a good hour or so,
according to Cyrus. And then, by happy chance, another complainant
arrived. One might say another nail was hammered into Amberherst’s
coffin, and the hammer was wielded by none other than young
Jocelyn. Apparently she’s none too pleased with Amberherst.”
    Mary nodded. “I expect not. He planned