“No, thank you,” he replied. “I will take a hackney.”
Roswell felt like whistling as he walked down the pavement towards the bakery shop. He was in a rather pleasant mood since his mother had remembered him this morning. She was lucid enough that they had an enjoyable conversation. He knew he would treasure these small moments since they were growing far too infrequent for his liking.
He was on his way to report to Kendrick and Caleb had sent word that he would meet him at the bakery. He didn’t think anything could dampen his mood this morning.
But he was wrong.
As he approached the bakery, Mr. Barnard stepped out with a loaf of bread in his hand.
Roswell came to an abrupt stop on the pavement. What in the blazes was Mr. Barnard doing here?
Mr. Barnard put his hand up in greeting when he saw him. “Lord Roswell,” he said. “I hadn’t expected to see you here.”
“I could say the same thing,” Roswell responded.
“I heard that this is the finest bakery in all of London,” Mr. Barnard said. “I do hope I am not disappointed.”
Roswell had no interest in engaging in polite talk with Mr. Barnard. He didn’t want anything to do with this man. “Well, good day to you,” he said as he went to brush past him.
Mr. Barnard turned with him. “I was hoping to speak to you for a moment.”
Botheration.
With an expectant look, Roswell asked, “What would you like to speak about?” His tone was curt. He refused to make this easy on the Frenchman.
“I do believe we started off poorly with one another,” Mr. Barnard replied. “I just want you to know that my intentions are honorable where it concerns your sister.”
This was the last thing he wanted to talk about with him. Although, if they were going to speak plainly, he might as well ask a question of his own. “Do you intend to pursue my sister?” he demanded.
“I hadn’t planned on it, but she is rather lovely,” Mr. Barnard replied. “Regardless, I won’t be in Town very much longer. I must report back to Wellington.”
“That is a shame,” Roswell muttered. He was pleased to know that he wouldn’t have to endure Mr. Barnard’s presence for much longer.
Mr. Barnard smiled, and he was annoyed all over again. “You remind me so much of Fredrick,” he remarked.
“My brother and I are very different people.”
“Yes, but you both are fiercely protective of Lady Octavia,” Mr. Barnard said. “As any good brother should be.”
Roswell took a step closer to Mr. Barnard. “I would go to great lengths to ensure Octavia is safe from anyone that means her harm.”
“Is that what you think I am doing?” Mr. Barnard asked.
“Quite frankly, I don’t know what to think.”
Mr. Barnard held his gaze. “You seem to forget that Fredrick asked me to call upon you when I was in Town. He seems to believe I can be trusted. Why don’t you?”
“It takes more than someone’s word for me to trust them,” Roswell replied.
“Then I shall strive to earn your trust.” Mr. Barnard took a step back and slightly bowed. “If you will excuse me, I have work that I need to see to.”
Roswell watched as Mr. Barnard continued down the pavement until he stopped and handed the loaf of bread to a young, thin boy. The boy’s face lit up as he accepted the bread before he disappeared into an alley.
With that one action, Roswell wondered if perhaps Mr. Barnard wasn’t as terrible as he perceived him to be. Fredrick wouldn’t have asked him to call upon them if he couldn’t be trusted. So why did he have a nagging feeling about that man?
Caleb came to stand next to him on the pavement. “Why are you standing out here?” he asked.
“I just had a run-in with Mr. Barnard.”
