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Mr. Huxley didn’t press her for a response. Instead, he said, “I can assure you that I would have been one of the first people to volunteer, had I but known.”
Her grandmother spoke up. “I am pleased to hear that, Mr. Huxley.”
“Anmore is my home, and I believe it is our duty to help one another,” he said. “Don’t you agree, Miss Locke?”
“I do,” she replied.
Mr. Huxley bobbed his head in approval. “I am going to propose a new initiative to my father that might help alleviate some of the burdens of the coal workers.”
“You are?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Yes, I think it is time that we updated their living quarters,” he replied. “I visited one of the buildings, and it was much too drafty for my taste.”
“That is wonderful,” her grandmother praised.
Mr. Huxley put his hand up. “I can’t guarantee that my father will approve it, but I am going to argue quite profusely for it.”
Daphne didn’t quite buy the act that Mr. Huxley was putting on. Since when did he start caring about the coal miners’ living quarters? She was quite sure that this was just a ploy to win her affections, but it wasn’t going to work.
Guy adjusted hiscravat in his rented room as he waited until it was time to depart for the coffeehouse. He hoped this meeting would be the big break in his case and he could finally leave Anmore; although that meant he would leave Miss Locke behind.
He had to admit that his pesky feelings for her were becoming rather irksome. A genteel young woman like her would never be interested in a man like him, and he would need to be mindful to remember that. She was much too good for the likes of him, anyway. So why did he find himself thinking about her at the most inopportune times?
Guy reached for the watch in his waistcoat pocket and glanced at the time. Good, it was time to depart.
He walked over to the bed and shrugged on his jacket. He had to admit that he’d grown to enjoy wearing Corbyn’s castoffs. They were finely made, and the fabric was much more comfortable than what he was accustomed to.
He locked his door behind him and heard loud laughter coming from the main hall as he descended the stairs. It was full, and it seemed many were already well into their cups.
He left the coaching inn and started towards the coffeehouse. He had just stepped onto the street when he had the strangest feeling that he was being followed. With a brief glance over his shoulder, he saw a tall, muscular man trailing behind, a hardened gleam in his eyes.
Guy was grateful he had an overcoat pistol tucked away in his fancy Hessian boot, but he didn’t think it would come to that. Rather than try to outrun the man, he decided to confront him. He stepped into the darkened alleyway and waited for the man to do the same. He didn’t have to wait long. The man’s shadowy outline became visible as he approached.
“Why are you following me?” Guy asked.
The man stopped in front of him, his eyes assessing him. “I have come to warn you to stay away from Miss Locke.”
“Why?”
“That is none of your concern.”
“I think it is. After all, it is me you are warning.”
The man opened his jacket to reveal a pistol tucked in his waistband. “If you don’t stay away from her, there will be dire consequences for you.”
“Have you already tried to take a shot at me?” Guy asked.
The man gave him a baffled look. “I have not.”
“That is a shame,” Guy remarked. It would have been much easier if this man was the one who had shot at him earlier. “But please, do go on and continue threatening me. I can assure you that I am listening.”
The man took a step towards him. “You seem to believe I am not in earnest.”
“I do not believe you would actually try to kill me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Taking a man’s life should never be done lightly, and I must assume that you are being paid to threaten me.”
