The Flower Seller ( WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 18

The clock in the hall chimed eleven. "Sadly, we must leave this conversation till tomorrow," Nicole announced, holding in a yawn. "I look forward to hearing how your uncle knew it was the one-eyed juggler who committed the crime."

"A fascinating case. Thank you again for a wonderful evening."

"I'm glad Sherlock will recuperate here. I have informed my housekeeper of the decision. He will be well looked after, if a little fatter when we see him."

Waverly stood, her legs unable to decide which way to go. Her heart made the decision for the rest of her body, approaching Nicole, taking her hand, rubbing her thumb gently over the back. "I hope I make you happy."

"A little too happy. And, if you keep doing that a little too uneasy."

Waverly dropped Nicole's hand immediately, Nicole taking hers. "I didn't say I was against feeling uneasy."

"I will admit to being a little jealous of Eliza. Poor Eliza tied to that altar."

"Yes, poor Eliza. I do feel bad she ended up where she did. Although, she was her own worst enemy wearing the perfume I had created especially for her."

"Explain."

"Long story. For another time."

Nicole led the way upstairs, Waverly snatching a quick peck on the cheek before closing the bedroom door. The room was tastefully decorated, the sheets soft Egyptian cotton, the pillows plump and indulgent. Waverly had not stayed in a room of this grandeur before, imagining Nicole's to be even more sumptuous. The room where she stayed at Freddie's in King's Lynn was comfortable, while this room spoke wealth. That Nicole should choose to spend time at The Lamb, with the most basic of décor when she had all this, also spoke volumes. Nicole would most likely brush off such observations, claiming her need to keep those parts of her life separate necessitated such premises. It was the plainness, the lack of detail in the room at The Lamb which stood out, apart from the vase of fresh flowers in the window.

Waverly let out a gasp when it finally dawned on her, knocking lightly on Nicole's door. As she opened let out a second gasp, Nicole's hair falling loose over her bare shoulder, the second time she had seen her in undergarments. "You can't possibly be missing me already."

"The flowers."

"Sorry?"

"In the window."

Nicole smiled. "Sweet violets."

"The ones in my posies."

Nicole simply nodded.

"You never forgot."

"It's why I was there. I imagined I might run into you by chance."

"You could have called on us." Nicole gave her a look. "I agree, your way is far more romantic."

"Thank you. Now, unless you intend to ravish me, I suggest we both get some rest. Goodnight my beautiful flower girl."

Badmington House, set in the heart of the Gloucestershire countryside, had been the principal seat of Nicole's family since the late seventeenth century. Her ancestors were forced to abandon Raglan Castle in Monmouthshire, which had been destroyed in the English civil war. A train took them from London's Paddington station to Chippenham, a carriage awaiting their arrival for the final eleven miles to the estate. Waverly fell silent as they approached the magnificent building, Nicole holding her hand, feeling her shake through her gloves. "It's rather draughty," she said, hoping to ease Waverly's nerves.

Waverly was lost for words, gazing out the window at what she considered to be a palace. It was made worse on exiting the carriage, staff neatly lined up to greet Lady Haught, curtseying and bowing as they passed on their way into the house. A porter took the bag in her hand, a maid took her gloves and hat, the housekeeper guiding her to one of the twenty bedrooms in the house where she would be staying. Thankfully, Nicole followed otherwise she was sure she would forever be lost in the sprawling mansion.