Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Jesus.
I am about to pull away when Ruby jumps up off my lap quite abruptly. ‘Have a nice evening,’ she says, hurrying away, leaving me frowning at her as she goes. She approaches a large man with award-worthy mutton chops and a belly that makes his jacket bulge at the buttons, straining them. He’s a serious fellow, who does not even crack a smile when approached by the vivacious, wildly attractive Ruby.
I sip my drink as I watch, interested, as the man plonks himself in a chair and Ruby perches on his lap, stroking at his body, for there is much to stroke at, while he, quite absentmindedly, squeezes one of her breasts from time to time. How … odd.
I’ve worked my way through a few gins when the man stands and declares, in a loud, booming voice for the whole of Kentstone’s to hear, that he is using the water closet. He leaves, and Ruby remains exactly where she is, despite there being plenty of other men around for her to please and earn some extra shillings – it’s surprising what one of these cyprians can achieve in just a few seconds, be sure of that – so I am left to conclude that the big, serious-looking fellow is extremely plump in the pocket and will make it worth her while to remain by his side all evening. Good for her.
Besides, I don’t really want to be here, so I get up, dip in my pocket, and pull out a shilling, wandering over to Ruby, who now, strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, will not look at me. I hold out the coin, and she peeks out the corner of her eye to me. ‘For the kiss.’
She waves me off. ‘The kiss was free.’
‘I’ve never known anyone to give anything away for free, especially around these parts.’ I slip the coin onto the table, and she whips it back up and hands it back to me.
‘I must insist.’
I frown. ‘You won’t take my money?’
‘No, because you did not enjoy the kiss.’
I withdraw, embarrassed. ‘It’s nothing personal,’ I rush to say. ‘You are a very pretty lady. It’s just … well, I’m feeling a little off lately, if you mus––’
‘Oh bugger,’ she whispers. ‘Please, Patrick. He is in a foul mood after being hijacked by the highwaymen en route into London.’
What?
I accept the coin, not particularly liking her apparent distress, and slip it back into my pocket. ‘Thank you, anyway,’ I say quietly.
‘What is this?’
I turn and find the fat man looking between Ruby and me, his beady eyes accusing.
‘My apologies,’ I say, bowing my head out of thought for Ruby, not for this oaf. If I knew she would be safe from his wrath, I’d put him in his place before I leave. ‘I did not realise the charming Ruby here was claimed.’
‘Well, she is.’
‘Indeed. Can I buy you a drink?’ I ask.
‘No, I am busy.’ He drops back into the chair and Ruby is soon back on his fat lap. What a heathen. Ruby is frightened of him, and that irritates me. I hope the highwaymen took every penny from him, although something tells me it would not dent his pockets, which I have concluded are as fat as he is.
‘Then I shall bid you farewell,’ I say, backing away, Ruby looking at me like I might be mad, and the heathen not looking at me at all.
‘Another drink, sir?’ Another cyprian asks.
‘No, silly me,’ I say, tapping my forehead, as if I am reprimanding my brain. ‘I forgot, I must get back to my investigations. Those highwaymen aren’t going to be caught while I sit around in gentleman’s clubs drowning in blue ruin and tempting women, now, are they?’ I nod my head. ‘Good evening to you.’
I turn, take two paces, and halt when I hear a low, rumbling voice demanding me to wait. Got him. ‘Yes,’ I say, slowly pivoting to face him.
‘Highwaymen, you say?’
‘Indeed. I hear they’re on the loose. They must be stopped.’
‘They must.’ Suddenly, he shoves Ruby off his lap and points to a chair. ‘Sit,’ he orders. ‘Let me buy you a drink.’
I need no more alcohol, be sure of that, but for the sake of my mission, I take a seat and order one more.
‘Your name?’ he asks, trying to lean closer, but his big belly hinders him, his buttons pulling so much, they look like they could ping off at any moment and possibly take one of my eyes out. So I sit back.
‘Melrose,’ I answer. ‘Frank Melrose.’ I peek at Ruby when I feel her surprised eyes on me.
‘Melrose, you say? Of The London Times?’
‘That is correct. And you are …?’
‘Byron Fleming.’
I inhale. I know that name. ‘Of Fleming Transportation?’
‘That’s me.’
‘Boats?’
‘Indeed. And carriages, of course. One hundred of them. I have a fleet of fifty boats, Melrose, that deliver whatever you so desire anywhere on the four thousand miles of canals that stretch through England.’ He nods, happy. Anything I so desire? How about newspapers? ‘I am also working closely with a man who is adamant we’ll all be travelling by rail very soon, which, of course, will extend my reach and be far more efficient.’