It was cold. So damn cold. The wind whistled past Eloise's ears, bringing a biting frost with it, and the fog had not yet lifted. It had been a good idea to come early in the morning, she knew - there were barely any people on the cobblestone streets, certainly no one that would recognise her - though even in her tattiest dress, she still stuck out like a sore thumb.
She had made sure to wear flat shoes, but the streets were slick with dew, and she almost slipped as she climbed the rotting wooden steps to the publisher's shop. The routine was achingly familiar now; step to the left on the first step, to the right on the second. Skip the third entirely - "It's a miracle it's still there, really!" Eloise's face split in a half hearted smile as she recalled the memory - her, shaking in fear as Theo directed her up the steps, laughing all the while. She forced herself to stop. There was no need to be sorrowful; no need even, to be perturbed in the slightest. After all, this was going to work.
It must.
***************************************
"Pinnock! I'm heading out."
A somewhat positive sound from his boss caused Theo to begin packing his things. He sifted through his meagre belongings, struggling to fit his ink bottles into his ragged cloth bundle. As he jostled the inkwells again, a book fell out, small and leather-bound. "The Iliad Vol. 1" it read - and it pained him to read it. Just the mere sight of it brought back memories of her.
Eloise. Her name still stung, a bittersweet flooding of his senses. She had hurt him - used him to her advantage, and then discarded him, just like he knew she would. It was a blessing he still had his job at all - only a glowing approval from Mr. Higgins had secured it (alongside Pinnock threatening all of his colleagues with a painful death if they spoke an ill word about him). No matter how much Theo tried to convince himself he did not miss her, he did. It was the truth. But those feelings were waning. Soon he would forget that he and Eloise Bridgerton had ever crossed paths; he had never had the best memory. For now he would learn to live with the fact that he would never see her face again, lips stained red, face just barely flushed.
He looked down again, back at The Iliad. He had burned all of the other books he had received from her - but he couldn't bear to see this one become kindling for the bar fire. This one was special. She had kept this specifically for him. Phrases underlined in graphite for him. Notes scribbled in margins for him. No, this one would have to stay. He tucked it resolutely between two bottles of blood-red ink in his bundle and secured the makeshift bag with a thin string, slinging it over his back.
"I'm leaving now, Pinnock!"
"Bright and early tomorrow morning, Sharpe!" came his burly friend's reply.
Theo chuckled, but the movement caused him to wince as it put weight on his right ankle. He lifted his too-large trousers painfully away from the rat bite that he had all-too-conveniently forgot about whilst working today (sorting through piles if newspapers rarely required standing). He examined his foot with a sort of mild concern. The wound went deep, but he had always been lucky with these things. Hopefully it would heal over soon.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. Subtle, yes, but floral and saccharine all the same, and strangely familiar. The next thing he noticed was the sound of Logan's weedy voice yelling for him from the front room. "Sharpe! There's a girl in here, requesting Theo! SHARPE!"
He should have known then, really. Perhaps he did. Maybe in the back of his mind, on some level he couldn't understand, he was drawn to it. But in the moment he believed it was just his baby sister, come again to weasel a scrap of bread or a sip of lemonade from her brother.
"Tell Bethy I have no mints or lemonade today! I'm running dry--"
Theo stopped short. He had opened the creaky double doors that lead out into the street and was met with a female face, certainly one that would have requested Theo.
Problem was, it wasn't Bethy.
*****************************
Eloise didn't really know what she had expected to change. For Theo to welcome her back with open arms, willing to forget all that had passed between them; or better yet, for him to have shrunk to the size of a pall-mall stick and to have grown horrific warts all over his body, so that she could easily turn back and denounce what was, in all honesty, a rather far-fetched idea.
Unfortunately for her, Theo was still Theo - Theo with the wide smile and kind eyes, Theo who read things and thought of her, Theo with the smudge of ink that seemed to jump around his face from day to day. Theo.
Taking a deep breath, she prepared to launch into her speech. " Theo--"
"Out." Theo's voice was expressionless, hard and flat as the cobblestones she had almost injured herself on making the journey here.
"I'm sorry?"
"Out. I don't want you here, so get out. Leave. Exit. I don't know what you want me to say to you, El. I have nothing to say to you." Against his better judgement, he stepped closer. "Are you aware what the word 'final' means, Eloise?" He didn't wait for an answer. "As in, 'This will be our final meeting. I never want to see you again'? Hm?"
"Well if you would just listen--"
"I have no desire to listen to you anymore, El. Leave." Theo attempted to push past her and barely swallowed a wince as he put weight on his right foot again.
Eloise's eyes laser-focused. "You're favouring your left. Why? Why would you be favouring your left - you never do that." Theo didn't have any time to utter a protest before Eloise was on the floor, lifting the fabric away from his wound. A gasp escaped her lips as she caught sight of the two holes that punctured his ankle. When she reached out to touch his skin, Theo jerked back.
"I'm fine, El. These things happen." He attempted again to push away from her, but Eloise grabbed his arm, hoisting herself up.
"You are not going anywhere. You are coming home with me to Mayfair, and we are going to call on the family physician to examine your wound."
"El--"
"Don't argue, Theo! I have heard things - stories - of injuries like these." Eloise looked at him with unbridled desperation. "When you get hurt in places like these, you--" Her voice broke off. When she spoke her voice was a whisper, like she was afraid to utter the words. "You don't get better."
"I'll be fine--"
"YOU CANNOT DIE, THEO!" Eloise's voice ripped out of her, as if she could not control it. "I will not allow it. Now make haste. I stationed the carriage about a mile from here."
As she carried him out, Theo couldn't help but admire her - the curls that hung so perfectly around her heart-shaped face, framing it. He was leaning on her too much; she was already flagging, but he knew if he even attempted to walk on his own, she wouldn't have allowed it.
They hadn't walked a mile yet, but they rounded a corner and there it was - a small chaise, complete with horse and servant to drive them. It was a much-needed reminder of how different they were. Eloise Bridgerton was a lady, and he was a commoner. She would marry a gentleman, and he-- wait. Marriage? Theo shook his head to rid himself of the thought. HE let Eloise usher him into the carriage and watched her signal that it was time to leave. As the carriage set off, he took the time to look at her again.
Eloise Bridgerton. What was he getting himself into?
YOU ARE READING
A Paperboy's Guide to being a Gentleman
Romance"It is brilliant, Theo! This will work, I am sure of it." Eloise is falling in love with Theo. She knows it. She is not slow, or stupid. She also knows that there are... rules that prevent her from seeing him. But what if there was a way that they c...
