With Love (Blackwood & Friends #1)

Chapter 8 - London Calling

Chapter 8 – London Calling

As the carriage rolled through the bustling streets of London, Nicola stared miserably out the window and gnawed at her nails. She had been gnawing on them since leaving Northwick that morning, so tense and rattled were her nerves that they were merely wretched stubs at the tips of her fingers.

Angry at her inability to control that habit, she yanked her hand down into her lap and twisted her skirts. For not the first time, she cursed her stupidity and absent-mindedness.

She hadn't stopped thinking of the box. The damn, wretched box.

Had he read the letters?

Had he pieced it together and figured it out, that it was she who wrote those words?

That it was she who wrote how obsessively in love with him she was?

She groaned aloud and Clara gave her a quizzical look from where she was seated opposite her. Nicola ignored her and concentrated on displaying a neutral expression, staring blindly out the small carriage window as it swayed gently along.

She couldn't decide if she were relieved to be away from Northwick for a short time, or terrified. The box had to be abandoned in lieu of the previous afternoon's attempts at recovery and subsequent failure. If that little ordeal hadn't raised Jason's suspicions, then the man could be quite daft, Nicola thought miserably. He hadn't been at dinner that evening with the rest of the family, even Diana and Grace had stayed to enjoy the company, so Nicola couldn't ascertain by his actions if he had learnt of any new shocking revelations then.

This morning, though, when he had graced them all with his presence during breakfast, looking haggard, red-eyed, and unshaven, he was in his normal wry humour despite his unsavoury appearance caused by an evening of over-indulgence, no doubt. Nothing, it appeared, was amiss in Jason Blackwood's world, while hers was tilting off axis and spiralling out of control.

Nicola wasn't sure if she should risk another attempt to reclaim the box from his chambers. If he had not yet read the letters, then the risk would be worth it in the end. However, if he had, and the box went missing, he would suspect the deviant responsible for the theft to be someone within the household and considering he had caught her endeavouring to sneak into his rooms, the conclusion would be drawn very quickly.

It was a right mess.

Further speculation on the matter would need to take a temporary hiatus as she had a prior engagement in London. However, her visit wouldn't keep her longer than the night and she would return to Northwick on the morrow due to a woebegone lie about a visit to a bakery and then to attend the annual Northwick picnic hosted by Lady Blackwood herself the following day after that.

Ample time yet to ascertain whether she should throw herself into the Thames or not.

The carriage drew to a stop outside her home, a splendid townhouse- one of many row houses- in a prominent square. Her father, Ewan Eversley, had developed a shrewd business sense a long time ago and had accumulated a comparable fortune to any nobleman worth his salt. Ewan had a knack for trade, seeming to read trends and demands quicker than they could appear and act accordingly. It helped that he was forward-thinking and had encouraged investments in several industrial developments that promoted growth, particularly of equipment and mechanisms for factory and agricultural production. It was why Ewan had no need to work anymore and was able to while his days away reading the papers, strolling through Regent's Park, or occasionally sparking up conversation with the sweet, elderly modiste down the street. It was also why Nicola had a handsome dowry and was afforded the luxury of choosing a man to marry, not that Ewan had ever so much as urged her to.