London Shadows (#1 Penderry's Bizarre)

Chapter Nine

Damnation.

It was Sophie Penderry outside the shop.

She was wearing a crisp white and red striped outfit, with her soft, dark hair pinned up elegantly. This was quite a transformation after the bedraggled state he'd met her in yesterday. Annoyingly, the sun decided to break through the clouds at that particular moment, banishing the gloomy fog and bathing everything, including Sophie, in golden sunlight. Westman had preferred the fog for it gave him more reason to be in a bad mood. Why did she insist on getting involved?

She noticed him and a lovely smile lit up her face. Gloved fingers clutched a pile of books to her chest and she freed one hand to wave at him, then called out sweetly, "Good morning, Mr Westman."

His breath caught involuntarily.

Some young men may have turned weak at such a vision, or, if they were particularly soft in the head, fallen head over heels in love. Westman was glad he wasn't one of those sorts. He suddenly realised he was staring at her like a damn fool.

Regaining his composure, he marched over. "What are you doing here?"

Her smile faltered. "Waiting for you."

"How in the blazes did you know I'd be here?"

"Your servant told me you were coming here."

"Blinks told you?" He would have words with the servant later about a little thing called confidentiality. "Well, you've had a wasted journey. I told you, I will deal with this. You should go home."

At first, she looked a trifle hurt by his moody tone, but soon set her free hand on her hip. "Pardon me, but what right do you have to give me orders?"

Westman realised how independent Sophie was, but she was still being incredibly naive about the situation.

"Do you not understand the dangers afoot? I thought bluestockings had good sense."

"Please don't call me that horrid name. It's very boorish of you. And I'm perfectly aware of my brother's work. The idea of the supernatural doesn't scare me."

"Have you forgotten last night so soon?"

"Oh, that silly wolf. I'll confess it startled me, but a little scare now and then builds courage, don't you agree? I'm ready to face whatever comes along, for my brother's sake. Wouldn't you do the same for somebody you love?"

Westman hesitated. Of course he would do the same. He risked his life all the time and not for the sake of love. The risks he took were for strangers like Tabitha; for knowledge; for the truth about magic and demons, miracles and angels; and worse still, for an audience of magazine readers. He was quite prepared to find Jim and face the dangers so that Sophie didn't have to.

"That's all very well," he replied, "but Jim would see me hung, drawn and quartered if I let you come along."

Sophie's face softened. "Your concern is so thoughtful, but you needn't worry about Jim. He had no business telling you to stay away from his family. Why, I can choose my own friends."

"That isn't my concern. You could get hurt."

"In a dress shop? Pish posh," she said, dismissing the notion.

For Westman, this was the final straw. "Now, see here, Sophie. This isn't a lark. Your family might stand by and let you tear around London, but I won't. If you keep following me I'll-"

He scratched around inside his head for a suitable warning, but it turned out he wasn't good at threatening young ladies. By chance, he spotted a long wooden trough full of water outside the pub across the street.