by Rose Pearson
But now she had to consider what path to take. She could remain here until she was twenty-one, in order to come into her fortune, but that would mean over three years of Miss Skelton’s dark looks and embittered words. To continue her quest to become a governess seemed the most likely path to take, for then she could simply give up that life when the time came. What would she do then? Where would she go? It was all so unexpected and yet Elsbeth was filled with a delicious excitement. To finally be free, to finally be able to build her own life….it was so near and yet so very far away.
Walking outside, Elsbeth paused for a moment as she took in the bustling market, the laughter and conversations washing over her like a wave of warmth. It was something she longed for but could never have within the House for Girls. Miss Skelton did not even like them to be near to the market, as though afraid they would smile too much for her liking.
Sighing, Elsbeth turned her back to the busy Smithfield Market and focused on her task, hoping she might be able to linger for a little while after she’d finished her task.
“Are you selling these?”
Jerked from her thoughts, Elsbeth turned to see a young man standing a short distance away from her, his eyes bright and a lazy smile on his face. Schooling her features into one of nothing more than general amiableness, she shook her head.
“No, I’m afraid not, sir. I am to place these around the railings.” She did not say why, not wanting to encourage the young man to come to the Smithfield House for the ball, not when he clearly knew this was where she was from.
“I see.” He moved closer to her, his smile still lingering – and Elsbeth felt herself shrink back within herself. He was clearly something of a rake, for with his fine cut of clothes and his highly polished boots, there was no doubt that he was a gentleman – and gentlemen, from what she knew, often thought they could get whatever they wished.
He was still watching her intently, his dark brown eyes warm as they lingered on her. His dark hair was swept back, revealing his strong jaw. With his strong back and broad shoulders, Elsbeth was sure that he sent many young ladies hearts beating wildly with hopes of passion, but she had never felt more intimidated.
“Do excuse me,” she murmured, making to turn away from him but only for him to catch her elbow.
“Do let me buy one from you,” he said, his breath brushing across her cheek. “To remember you by, my fair flower.”
Elsbeth felt a curl of fear in her stomach but chose to stand tall, her chin lifted. “No, I thank you, but I cannot sell one to you. I have a job to do. Do excuse me.”
She wrenched her elbow from his hand and turned away again, telling herself to remain strong in the face of his oozing self-importance. She did not like him at all, despite his handsome features, for it was clear that he expected a simple compliment to overwhelm her to the point that she would do just as he wished.
“Well, if you will not sell one to me then perhaps you might converse with me for a time,” the gentleman continued, his smile a little faded from his expression. “I am greatly inclined to know who you are.”
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