Chapter 21

As had become the norm, Harriet Michaels got up at three. With work commencing at four, she’d barely managed to squeeze in her usual five hours of sleep before the knocker-upper tapped his rod against her window. She scrambled from the bed, sent him a quick wave of thanks, and went to heat a pot of water on the small range that stood in the corner of the room.

Her younger sister, Lucy, who was twelve years of age, wouldn’t be up for a while yet. But when she woke, Harriet wanted her to find a pot of tea waiting along with a bread roll, even if neither would be very fresh by that time.

Returning to her own side of the small, one-room accommodation she’d managed to acquire, Harriet collected the clothes she’d left on a nearby chair last night and began putting them on. She had only a few sets to choose between, and laundry was something she couldn’t afford too often. So she did her best to keep her attire in decent order, even though it was often a challenge to keep ink stains off.

Having finished with her bindings, she put on her shirt and trousers, then tied her cravat. Next, she slipped on her waistcoat, which she quickly buttoned before pushing her arms through the sleeves of her brown tweed jacket. Hose and shoes followed.

To finish off the ensemble, she pressed a cap onto her head.

Turning toward the small tarnished mirror that hung on the wall, she took a moment to study her appearance – to make sure she looked the part she’d decided to play.

A scrawny boy stared back, offering no hint of feminine features or curves whatsoever.

Perfect.

Satisfied she would avoid detection once more, Harriet went to prepare the tea. She made a cup for herself first, then let it cool for the five minutes it took her to run downstairs and purchase a couple of bread rolls from the baker up the street.

She ate half of hers on the way back to her lodgings and left the other on a plate for Lucy to find later. The tea was a bit thin as usual, but it was hot and hit the spot nicely, washing down her simple breakfast. Ready to leave, Harriet crossed to her sister’s bed, knelt down, and pressed a tender kiss to her brow.

“I’ll see you later, dearest,” she whispered.

Her sister, a deep sleeper since birth, didn’t budge.

Harriet straightened, blew her a kiss, and left the room, locking the door behind her. After exiting the building, she turned left and headed toward Holborn. From there it was a three mile walk to Hudson Co and the printing press where she’d spend the next fourteen hours filling composing sticks with sorts.

Moving briskly with the soles of her shoes slapping the pavement, she passed a newspaper boy and smiled when she spotted the headline on one of the papers he carried. ‘The Duke of Westcliffe Marries For Love’ it read.

Although she’d not managed to speak with Ada after her wedding, she had sent a card congratulating her on her nuptials. Harriet was happy on her friend’s behalf and looked forward to telling her so in person during their next book club meeting.

It pleased her to know that happily ever afters were possible even when they seemed unlikely. She herself had lost all hope of marrying for any reason, never mind love, a long time ago. But if she applied herself properly, there might be a chance for Lucy.

With this in mind, she rounded the street corner with increased speed, only to have her shoulder knocked back as it bumped into something solid that came from the opposite direction. She grunted in response to the impact and opened her mouth with every intention of voicing an apology to the man she’d walked into. But when she raised her gaze and was met by a pair of ocean blue eyes, the words she’d intended to speak caught in her throat.

The gentleman, impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored outfit consisting of black tailcoat, ivory waistcoat, and fawn-colored trousers, was also incredibly handsome. And tall. She had to crane her neck to see his dark blonde locks peeking out from beneath the brim of his elegant hat. A square jaw served to highlight his masculine looks, which were perfectly offset by a full-bodied mouth and a slender nose.

Surprise made her blink. What on earth was such a fine gentleman doing out and about at this early hour?

He jerked his chin and touched the brim of his hat. “Excuse me.”

That was all he said before he stepped past her, continuing onward while Harriet simply stood there, staring at his retreating back until some other passerby happened to jostle her.

“Get out of the way, lad,” said a stocky man with a crate perched on his shoulder.

Harriet leapt to one side, gave her head a quick shake, and resumed walking.

Ninny.

Her silly heart fluttered and her body felt lighter. All because of a stranger. A very attractive one to be sure, but one she’d never cross paths with again. And even if she did, he’d remain unattainable.

They were from two different worlds. Their lives would never align.