I raised two fingers beckoning the barmaid to my table. After ordering another pint, I leaned back and listened. I enjoyed the chatter surrounding me. A man could learn a great deal by listening. It was one of the reasons I had gone to the tavern to relax after my stressful journey.

A fly landed on my arm, and when I swatted it, an oily substance transferred onto my hand. Examining my finger, I ascertained it was frosting. A careful examination revealed that, despite my best efforts, my shirt was still coated in crumbs, butter, and sugar. I scanned the room but found nothing that could fix the damage. My clothes were irreparably soiled. Yet one more thing to upset mother, and again, it was that irritating woman's fault. It is true that on my way here, as I hurried to reach my destination before the tailor closed, we were both rounding the street corner. I do not, therefore, place blame on her for the collision itself. Rather, I take issue with the fact she carried so many boxes she was unable to properly secure them and allowed them to topple all over me. Not only had this calamity caused me to miss my appointment, but it had also ruined my shirt.

"Have you read the latest pamphlet detailing Captain Braver's adventures?"

A pretty blond sat at the bar. Beside her was another woman whose back was turned away from me. All I could see was that her hair was a beautiful shade of auburn. It was the very shade of the hair on the woman who had caused me to miss my appointment. I craned my neck trying to catch a glimpse of her face.

"What a ridiculous notion. I've no use for reading," she snipped, before collecting up her hat.

The blond took a swig of her drink, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. It was a striking image that did not match her refined features in the slightest. She muttered, "That's a shame. He is amazing. I think the men in this town could learn a thing or two from him."

It was decided. I liked that one. Further, this establishment could still attract those with discerning tastes. Her companion did not seem to be listening.

"And, today, I have even less time than usual. I must get back to the shop before it gets any later. Some buffoon ran me over while I was making my deliveries. Now, I must remake the Larkin order before I can check in on granny." She took hold of her purse. She appeared to be on the verge of leaving but stopped herself rather abruptly. "Elle," she asked the blond, "could you check in on her for me? Granny, that is."

Elle's eyes widened and she shook her head. "No. I'm afraid not," she said, averting her gaze.

"Why?"

"I… I promised to help my mother with dinner. I am sure she will scold me for being late as it is. I will be leaving the moment I finish my drink." She looked down at her empty glass.

The red-haired woman shook her head and left.

At no point was I able to see her face clearly, but Given the reference to our collision, I had little doubt she was the same woman I had encountered not an hour earlier.

The barmaid returned with my mug. After paying for the beverage, I stood and picked up my ale.

This Elle seemed to be a kindred spirit. If I had to wager, I'd say her red-haired companion was some version of her very own James. Besides, her assessment of Barver demonstrated she was an excellent judge of character. I crossed to the bar.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" I asked pointing to the stool that had just been vacated.

"Suit yourself. I don't have any claim to that stool."

I settled in, and she watched me out of the corner of her eye.

After a minute, I said, "I know him. He's a personal friend of mine."

She looked at me through narrowed eyes. "Are you speaking to me?"

Her icy reception gave me pause, but It was too late to slink off. I nodded. "Captain Barver, I know him," I explained.

There was a moment of hesitation before she responded. No doubt she was trying to decide between chastising me for eavesdropping and finding out more about my impressive alter ego.

She pulled her shoulders back and sat up straighter. It seemed as though she had decided on her response. She gave me a dazzling smile.

"Really?" she asked. Her eyelashes fluttered like butterflies. "Is he handsome?"

"Just about as good looking as they come," I said with a smirk. "Do you subscribe to his pamphlets? If not, I could probably get you a special price. You see, I help him record his adventures."

"Oh." Her body moved a little closer to mine. "I read my granny's copy, actually, but thank you for the offer. Are you a scribe?"

"Among other things, yes." I leaned back giving her eyes access to better feast on my being. "Right now, I also work in the family shipping business." I picked up my mug and swallowed half of my ale, trying to drown the resentment the last sentence had created. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but my friend grows bolder and bolder, and his notoriety has only increased. Soon, he will have enough followers, I will be able to make a living from the writing of his life and deeds alone."

She nodded. "Then you are in the business of increasing subscriptions to his chronicles." She tapped her fingernails on the bar. "If he is as handsome as you say and allows himself to be seen, it could help him grow more popular."

She was right, of course. But such a reveal would likely cause my mother to die on the spot.

I scrunched up my face, attempting to appear deep in thought. "I don't wish to speak for him, but I imagine that he will one day reveal his identity," I said.

Elle signaled the bartender. When he arrived, she ordered another drink. I was taken aback—had overheard her claim she needed to go home to attend to some chores—but I didn't know I had shown my surprise.

"What? It is only my second," she said staring at me.

I hid my chuckle behind a closed fist and fake cough. "I apologize. I got it into my head that you were in a hurry."

Her cheeks colored. "Right," she said looking away.

"There is no need to explain..."

She spun in her stool until she faced me. "It is just that they all try to work me to the bone. Mother gives me every chore to do around the house, and if I try to have even a little fun, she punishes me by making me slave away for our other relatives. It is exhausting! My cousin is a terrible bully trying to hand me even more chores when she knows how busy and tired I am."

I looked down at her delicate fingers. Her hands did not look as though they had ever seen a day's work. I simply nodded.

A gust of wind swept through the tavern as the front door was opened. I looked up and noticed that the light outside was growing dim. I pulled out my pocket watch.

"Damn..."

"Is something wrong?" Elle asked.

"No. It's just the livery closed ten minutes ago. I will need to walk home." I imagined what would great me after my five-mile walk. Mother would be worried, father would be angry. Yet again, I would prove to them they are entirely justified in their preference for Michael. I downed the rest of my drink. "I must bid you ado," I said before rushing out into the chilly evening.

I had best hurry. The roads were anything but safe after dark.