Her Unexpected Mistake (Historical Lesbian Romance) by Jesalin Creswell

Author:Jesalin Creswell [Creswell, Jesalin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LoveLight Press
Published: 2016-04-05T23:00:00+00:00

6

The landscape outside the train’s window had at first changed rapidly from dense urban jungle to lush green meadows, rolling hills dotted with grazing cows before the weather turned distinctly foreboding. It had been a pleasure at the start of the journey to gaze wistfully out the windows (since her notebook was locked away at home), and a welcome distraction from the soured-breathed patter of Jenkins as he huffed and snorted his way through the newspapers, reading out snippets he found especially risible.

“Bloody unionists, kicking up a fuss again, I see. Hose the lot of ‘em, I say! In the dead of winter!” he scowled, and Dahlia remembered his nasty reputation among the men at the foundry. Well-earned, it would seem.

She had tried to defend the humanity of these various persecuted groups he delighted in vicariously torturing, but Freddie soon learned to hold his tongue, lest he merely be exposed to a fresh torrent of tangential abuse about bleeding hearts and soft heads deserving boots and straps and nought else. It all got a bit tiresome until she learned that a simple gruff “Mmmmm” was more than enough interaction for the foul old man. Resigning herself to another three days of this might well prove untenable. Dahlia longed for some kind of helmet to block him out, but in lieu of such a device she made do with complete mental vacancy.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of silver behind the newspaper held high above Jenkins’s face, like a silver fish accompanied by a comparable subtle bubbling. My, what thirsty koi they have here in the first class northern express…Dahlia thought and smiled into her balled fist as she fixed her eye on a rain-soaked highland heifer. Care to swap places? she said silently to the cow, who ignored her entirely. Wise cow.

The prospect of a drunken and belligerent Jenkins was of no more comfort to Dahlia than a sober and cantankerous one, but she wondered what her brilliant lover might make of this situation. Should she ask for a sip herself? Form some kind of masculine bond? Loosen his fat tongue while it was still slick with liquor and learn his devious plans?

Surely that must be it. She would have to be careful not to become drunk herself, lest she lose her bearings and wind up in a ladies lavatory and under swift arrest for perversion.

She called over a conductor and ordered a cup of black coffee, a luxury she had never known existed back in Islington, let alone could be brought to you by white-gloved hands while travelling at high speeds across Britain’s northern wilds. Judging by the detached gruffness and lack of sustained chat, it seemed almost as though the old man was merely waiting this experience out as much as Freddie was. What was he up to? What was waiting for them in Hull?

When it arrived, she leaned over conspiratorially and raised one eyebrow.

“I don’t suppose you’ve fortification to hand, perchance?” Freddie asked in a husky voice, his wry smile putting the old man at ease.

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