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“Should I? You do sound like a villain in a bad play. Can’t say which one though.” He scratched his head. “You still haven’t paid her, you know. If you won’t pay up, you’d best leave. I’ll see to the lady. Sound satisfactory to you, lady?”
“It does.” She finally spoke. A low, quiet voice. Sounded more like a lady than a doxy, but doxies could be ladies he supposed.
Anyone could learn to speak more eloquently. Elegantly. Elocution. Anyone could learn elocution. Or unlearn it. He should know. Case in point.
The hooded man opened his mouth. Closed it. Angel could fairly hear the gnashing of teeth. Quite biblical really. Teeth must be wearing down from all the gnashing though. Was probably a common thing with this fellow. Would need false ones soon. Maybe had them already.
With a whirl of his dark cloak, the man spun on his heels and strode away from them back across the bridge.
Very dramatic. Shakespearean even.
Angel looked at the lady. She looked at him.
“Thank you.”
“Ah, finally a thanks. Would have thought the other fellow might have done the thanking. No gratitude. What is the world coming to? Etcetera.”
The woman looked confused. That was all right. Fairly baffled himself.
“I would like you to know... I am not a...doxy,” she said quietly, eyes cast downwards.
Angel stared. She was a very pretty girl. Woman. Maybe in between. Younger than himself. Older than a girl. Mid-twenties maybe. Lovely face, really.
Might easily be called an angel as well. Golden hair, blue eyes.
Deucedly lovely in fact.
Too much so.
He had thought his appraisal merely aesthetic but apparently parts of him believed otherwise. He shifted on his feet awkwardly in the hopes of loosening his suddenly uncomfortably tight trousers. Last thing the poor lady needed. Wished he had a cloak.
“A thousand pardons for my error, milady.” He managed to execute a graceful bow, which, with an erection was no small feat. He also didn’t tip over, which was rather a miracle. “Hope to restore amends. Be friends. Hope you won’t mind me saying, seems like you need a friend.”
He smiled encouragingly. She did not return it. He would have liked to see her smile. Probably a very pretty smile.
Who was she if she wasn’t a doxy? Easy way to find out.
“Shall I escort you home?” He held out an arm.
“No, thank you. I have a carriage waiting.” She took a deep breath. “Truly though, I do thank you. You did not have to step in.”
She looked in the direction the man had gone. “I don’t think I would have stabbed him.”
“Would have liked to though?”
“Yes. Very much.” Even then she did not smile. Not a smiling matter then.
“Bad situation, I see,” he said quietly. “Wish I could help.”
She looked a little surprised.
“No one can help. It’s a mess of my own making.” She glanced away. “Well, thank you...” She gave a little laugh. “I’ve said that already, haven’t I? Well, good night.”
He watched her walk away. He told himself it was simply to see her safely across. No other reason.
Didn’t want to follow in case that made her more afraid.
When she reached the end of the bridge, a conveyance slowly rolled up and she stepped in.
Perhaps she really wasn’t a doxy then. Ladybird may have been accurate. Spat with her patron.
He gave a great yawn. Adventurous evening. He turned towards home.
