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“Getting knocked down doesn’t bother me. It only makes me stronger each time I stand back up.”
Hawthorne gave him an approving nod. “I can’t promise anything, but I will see what I can do about gaining you a seat in the House of Commons.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Your passionate speech worked on me, and I have no doubt that it will work on others to bring about change,” Hawthorne said. “But it is much easier to be an agent than be in Parliament.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Some people enjoy arguing just to hear the sound of their own voice,” Hawthorne warned. “It can be quite irksome.”
“Would I need to give up being an agent?”
Hawthorne grew solemn. “I believe so, but I cannot speak for Corbyn,” he said.
Before he could respond, Guy saw Miss Locke walking down the pavement towards him. She was dressed in a blue gown with a square neckline and wore a straw hat over her brown tresses. Their eyes met, and he felt a smile spreading across his lips.
She stopped in front of him and gave him a slight curtsey. “Good morning, Mr. Stewart.”
He bowed. “Good morning, Miss Locke.” He gestured towards Hawthorne. “Allow me to introduce you to Lo—”
“Hawthorne,” he said, cutting him off. “My friends call me Hawthorne.”
Miss Locke smiled politely at him. “Then I hope to be fortunate enough to be considered your friend one day.”
“What brings you into town at such an early hour?” Guy asked, drawing back her attention.
“I was delivering a basket to a widow who recently broke her arm.”
“How unfortunate.”
Miss Locke bobbed her head. “I brought a basket over yesterday, but I realized she was in greater need than anyone previously thought.”
“Is there something that I can help her with?”
“That is most kind of you, but I intend to send over a footman to help cut wood for her,” Miss Locke said.
“Does this woman have an ax?”
“She does.”
“Then I can cut some wood for her.”
Miss Locke gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you in earnest?” she asked. “I know cutting wood is rather a tedious job.”
Guy smirked. “I have had much worse jobs.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I know Mrs. Cooley would greatly appreciate having some firewood brought up to her home,” Miss Locke said.
“I would be honored to.”
Miss Locke smiled so brilliantly that he found he couldn’t look away. “Her cottage is further down this street and has a bright red door,” she revealed.
“Then I should have no trouble finding it. I shall see to it today.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stewart,” Miss Locke said.
“You are most kindly welcome.”
