“Miss Brown is free to spend time outdoors if she so wishes.” Mr Erstwhile cast her a reassuring grin. “Indeed, I’m sure you have things to discuss.”
Was that a covert way of telling her to put the gentleman out of his misery? It had to be done, and now. A short stroll would make the task easier. He could hardly protest to any degree whilst out in public.
“A walk would be beneficial. Give me a moment to get ready.” An hour at most would suffice. Should Ross call, Mr Erstwhile would keep him entertained until she returned.
“I hope you can forgive me for my complete lapse in judgment the other night,” Mr Hungerford said as they walked along Whitecombe Street. “I should have stayed and taken supper, as you suggested.”
“There is nothing to forgive. I was just as foolish and should have insisted we return home.”
Estelle found his affable manner nauseating. If she were to marry, she wanted a man who made her feel safe without being controlling. He would need to be strong, exude a level of raw masculinity that made her knees tremble. In short, she wanted a man like Ross Sandford.
“Well, there is one consolation I suppose.”
“And what is that?”
“It gave me an opportunity to make a declaration. I can only put my lack of caution down to my pining heart.”
Oh, heavens. Someone pass her a chamber pot for she was liable to cast up her accounts.
Estelle stopped walking as they reached Princes Street. “Perhaps we should take a slow stroll back.”
“Why when it is but a short walk to a coffeehouse?” His childish pout made her want to hit him over the head with a chamber pot let alone use one to c
ontain the evidence of her suffering. “At least let me buy you a hot beverage, to make amends for the dreadful events in that alley. And it will help to ward off a chill.”
“Sir, I fear there is something I must tell you.”
Mr Hungerford raised a hand to silence her. “If it is as I suspect, then at least let us sit down rather than discuss such a personal matter here in the street. I know of a tasteful establishment a little further ahead.”
Estelle suppressed a snort. The man was adept at speaking too intimately in public. Why the sudden change of heart now?
“Very well.” She sighed. “But I must return to the shop within the hour.” She hoped to be there when Ross called.
“Rest assured. I shall endeavour to ensure your needs are met.”
Estelle sighed inwardly. She would never get used to his odd phrasing.
They continued until Mr Hungerford directed her to a coffeehouse on Compton Street. He placed a hand at the small of her back — sending an icy shudder straight through her — and guided her into the premises. Every table was occupied. People huddled around the stone hearth, their drinks balanced on the mantel. Others crowded into every available space.
“And I thought Brandersons had the monopoly,” she said, hovering near the door. “Let us return to Whitecombe Street.”
“Never fear. I know the proprietor, and he will secure us a table.”
They shuffled and pushed their way up to the serving counter. The pungent smell of sweat-soaked bodies, mingled with the bitter scent of coffee, irritated her nostrils. As did the thick plumes of tobacco smoke lingering in the air.
Mr Hungerford summoned the proprietor and leant across the wooden surface to whisper something into the man’s ear. After accepting a few coins by way of a bribe, the man wandered out and headed to one particular table. He spoke to the group of men, who vacated their seats without so much as a cross word.
Mr Hungerford escorted her to the table and pulled out her chair. “I shall wait at the counter for our drinks else it will take an age to be served.”
He hurried away leaving her alone.
Being in the cramped place reminded her of the times she’d sat in the tavern in Wissant with Madame Bonnay simply to keep watch on the revenue men. Sometimes they approached and made lewd suggestions, but in the madame’s company, Estelle always felt safe.
And yet now, every instinct told her to run.
But was that not the tactic she used to avoid all awkward conversations?
Estelle spent five minutes contemplating whether to stay or leave before finally deciding to remain at the coffeehouse for ten minutes in order to decline the gentleman’s marriage offer.