The Flower Seller ( WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 15

A loud knock on the study door woke Nicole from her dream of fighting bare-knuckled at The Grapes. Her housekeeper knocked again, informing she had a visitor. She stretched, her back aching from having fallen asleep at her desk. The carriage clock above the fireplace showed eight thirty, a panic setting in as she realised she didn't have all the pieces in preparation for her rendezvous with Blackwood. "Ma'am, Miss Earp is in the drawing room. Shall I tell her you are indisposed?"

"Yes. No wait, I shall be with her shortly."

She checked her complexion in the mirror. It would have to do, stray strands of hair pushed behind each ear, cheeks rubbed with the palms of her hands to bring a little more colour. Waverly was seated on the couch as she entered, Nicole taking in the paleness of her complexion, the redness around her eyes. "I see my words fell on deaf ears," she said, not bothering to sit.

"I know what you're doing," Waverly replied, her own attention on Nicole's face.

"How is Sherlock?"

"You think by pushing me away you get to do this alone."

"You assume too much."

"I know you well enough."

"You do not," Nicole replied, the coldness of those words icy on her tongue. "Forgive me, I am a little under the weather."

"You're exhausted. I can see. You look as Sherlock does when he works through the night. You went back for the rest of his notes. Didn't you?"

Nicole faked a smile. "Your uncle instructed me to stand down, which I have every intention of doing."

"Nicole please, you're playing with fire. If I'd known this would happen I would never..."

"And yet, here we are."

"He won't thank you. If you're doing this to win-"

"I'm not," she snapped, pausing to compose herself. "I do not need his approval, or his friendship. I have survived perfectly well without his interference."

Waverly maintained her gaze, unable to contain the sadness in her eyes. It was all Nicole could do to hold back, even though she wanted to sweep her up in her arms, tell her it would all be fine, not to worry. "I can't let you do this. I'm begging you not to go after Blackwood."

"You do not get to tell me what to do. I suggest you leave."

Waverly rose, dabbing her cheek with a hankie pulled from her glove. "I lost you once."

Waverly moved towards the door. "Waverly wait. I appreciate your concern. Tell Sherlock I will do as he says. Tell him...Luke Reordan. Tonight."

Waverly rushed to her, pinning Nicole's arms by her side as she squeezed. "Thank you. Thank you."

"I can't promise I'll be good," Nicole whispered.

"I know," Waverly replied, refusing to let go. "Just stay alive."

The urge to kiss Waverly became a torture, wanting nothing more than to forget everything she intended to do to show off to Sherlock, and let Waverly know she was the reason for her continued existence. She held back, the moment not quite right, too much emotion attached, too many questions unanswered. She waited for Waverly to let go of her, the moment taking far longer. "I will need my arms back," she suggested, Waverly releasing her immediately. "I shall visit your uncle this afternoon, if I may."

"Yes, yes, he would like that. He really would."

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed nine. "I have a few matters to attend to. Will you forgive me."