Rays of sunlight stabbing through the gaps in between the wooden planks that made up the wall of the room let him know he overslept even while the curtains were still drawn together and the room was half-filled with shadows. He turned to his left to the face of a woman curled up at his side. She was snoring lightly, probably still dreaming, but Nicholas didn’t have the freedom she had. He pulled himself out of the bed and started to get dressed. 

Martin Brown might have the looks and build of a scholar, but he was far from your stereotypical university professor who devoted themselves to their books and ledgers. No. It might just be the way he dressed and the all-knowing manner in which he spoke that made him look scholar-like, but the man was far from being uptight. The pretty lady sleeping on his bed said so herself. Martin Brown was frequently at Grapes, usually seen dining and drinking with several other working class men. Doing business with women of compromised virtues was part of his leisure activities, which was confirmed by Caroline. She also noted that he was a rather intimidating business partner, but he was a good payer.

“Must you leave so early, Simon?”

Nicholas finished buckling his belt and then sat on the bed with one of his boots on hand. He smiled and looked over his shoulder at the sleepy face of his informant. “Must I sleep with you each time you give me a juicy piece of gossip, Caroline?” He teased, pulling his boots on and retrieving the other one from under the bed. 

Caroline sighed. She pushed herself off the bed and crawled to the edge, laying her cheek on his shoulder as she let her body lean into his back. The woman closed her eyes and took in a deep contented breath. “I like the way the sunlight touches your hair. It turns to gold,” She whispered. “I want to trim it off and sell it all.”

He chuckled, but remembered to wash the color off his head thoroughly and quickly. He was supposed to meet with Claire and his father that day. Also, his upper lip was itching because of the concoction he used to attach the fake moustache, which was another reason why he shouldn’t have stayed long. “I cannot stay. There are pressing matters for me to attend to,” he said, lacing each word with as much regret as he could, but as he spoke, Caroline wrapped her arms around him in silent protest. 

“When will you be able to stay longer than one night?” she asked.

“Not until my master’s business is leading in London. Before that, we have to take care to eliminate competition,” he confessed then turned around so he was facing her. She was a beautiful woman with pale skin and dark green eyes. Her face was so gentle it hurt to think about what she did for a living. He cupped that face and caressed her cheek with the thumb of one hand. Caroline was a strong soul. She was the mistress of her own trade, part owner of the Grapes Pub, and – well – a selection of young ladies who promised a most memorable night in return of an earnest payment. “Caroline, darling. Do you doubt that I will stay for good when this is all over?” 

She shook her head, but he thought he saw a shadow of doubt crossed her face, which was not good for business. “Alright,” he sighed, but she placed a finger on his lip, silencing him just like Claire did the night before.

“I have listed the names of the men who I’ve seen with Martin Brown,” she stated in business-like manner. “Those names are those of the ones that fit your description. The piece of paper is inside the drawer. Now leave before you are missed, Simon.”

It was his turn to shake his head in disagreement. He captured his hand and placed it down on her lap. Before she could say any more protest, he leaned close to her and sealed her mouth with his.

****************

“Where have you been, Nicholas?” 

Bennett didn’t look happy. It was apparent with the way he roared the words out of his mouth from where he stood on the second floor balcony. The servant at the front door flinched visibly and retreated as soon as he got hold of the young master’s jacket. 

It was almost lunch when Nick returned to their townhouse wearing his usual carefree expression. His hair was wet and tousled and there were dark circles under his eyes. In his hand was a neatly folded paper, which he hoped would placate the old man.

“Get yourself fixed and dressed like a proper gentleman, I have promised Lord Abbott that we shall be joining them at lunchtime today,” he continued with the same intensity as his greeting. 

He hadn’t forgotten that he promised Claire to meet with her that day, but he couldn’t remember ever sending a note to confirm the verbal promise. It had to be Bennett’s diligence that nearly compromised his gentlemanly acts of kindness towards Claire and her family. He was tired scouting until the wee hours of the night until he tracked down Martin Brown at the Grapes. What he needed was a few hours of quiet rest, but it was too much to ask. He had to still meet with self-important nobles. He felt like a teenager rebelling against his father, but was there any other choice other than to meet with Claire again?