The Soldier's Poisoned Heart (True Love and Deception) (Victorian Historical Romance Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Michael Meadows
onto the seat. Henry climbed into the carriage, rather than joining his uncle.
When they rumbled past the city limits, it was maybe five. They had an hour or so until dinner time—Enough time to find someone who could tell him the name of Mister Wakefield’s daughter.
He parked the carriage alongside the road, helped his nephew down, and relayed some of the information to him. John Paul's love life was his own business, and Henry agreed to spend their hour until dinner apart without question. Henry set off walking off down a side-street; John Paul stood to watch him go for a moment before he set off to his own tasks.
The most direct way was to go in and ask whoever was at the desk. Yet, he found himself uncertain when he saw a large man with gray hair behind the counter through the large glass window. That would be Mr. Wakefield, he decided. Certainly not ‘and Sons’, and that worried him.
There was a preferred time and place for meeting a young woman’s father, and it wasn’t before you’d asked her name. He stopped a few passers-by, asking each what they could tell him about the girl, but it clear that it was just another store on the road to them. Many had never been inside at all, certainly not seen a girl.
For a moment, it seemed impossible to get any sort of information at all. The entire trip was in vain, and he’d spend an hour sulking before he crawled off to eat his supper. But then he had an idea. There were employees; that much was certain.
He’d met several, though it seemed the Wakefield brood alone worked at the counter. John Paul hadn’t asked in so many words, but they’d all had a similar cut to their features. The old man inside bore a strong resemblance to the young man he’d met on his first time in the store. The Colonel could even see a resemblance between him, in spite of the hard lines and wrinkles, and his beautiful daughter.
If there were employees, they certainly weren’t in the front of the store. There was a door to a back room that he’d noticed and dismissed before, but now he wondered if perhaps there wasn’t a back entrance as well. That would make it easier than if everyone went in the front way, went around the counter, and into the back.
No, he was certain that there would be someone in the back. More than likely they would take breaks at frequent intervals to smoke a pipe-full of tobacco. Armed with his new conviction that they would be around any moment to take a break, he stepped into the alley.
He followed the alley around toward the back and was unsurprised to find that there was a row of doors in the back of the shops. There was a smaller sign, hand-painted, that said “Wakefield’s” over a door. At least he knew that he was in the right place.
A few minutes passed; he had little to do but wait, and he regretted that he hadn't purchased a newspaper to at least pass the time reading. John Paul had a sickening suspicion that if he should leave for a moment, someone would come out to smoke and he would miss his chance. He waited fifteen minutes behind the shop, though it seemed to pass slower than the hours of work he’d done earlier.
Then he heard footsteps inside the back door and he realized with a sick jolt to his stomach what sort of fool he’d made of himself. There would be no explanation for loitering around back behind the place, except perhaps that he was some sort of burglar.
There was also a real chance that he’d run into her elder brother, or worse, her father. He was about to duck around another corner and be gone when the door opened. One of the delivery boys stepped out, already tamping down a bit of tobacco into a large wooden pipe. He was just putting the pipe between his teeth when he saw John Paul, and his mouth widened into a grin.
“Oh, hey there, mister. Everything alright?”
John Paul hesitated for just a moment.
“Yes. Everything’s fine.” He took a deep breath and continued. “Would you mind if I asked you a
When they rumbled past the city limits, it was maybe five. They had an hour or so until dinner time—Enough time to find someone who could tell him the name of Mister Wakefield’s daughter.
He parked the carriage alongside the road, helped his nephew down, and relayed some of the information to him. John Paul's love life was his own business, and Henry agreed to spend their hour until dinner apart without question. Henry set off walking off down a side-street; John Paul stood to watch him go for a moment before he set off to his own tasks.
The most direct way was to go in and ask whoever was at the desk. Yet, he found himself uncertain when he saw a large man with gray hair behind the counter through the large glass window. That would be Mr. Wakefield, he decided. Certainly not ‘and Sons’, and that worried him.
There was a preferred time and place for meeting a young woman’s father, and it wasn’t before you’d asked her name. He stopped a few passers-by, asking each what they could tell him about the girl, but it clear that it was just another store on the road to them. Many had never been inside at all, certainly not seen a girl.
For a moment, it seemed impossible to get any sort of information at all. The entire trip was in vain, and he’d spend an hour sulking before he crawled off to eat his supper. But then he had an idea. There were employees; that much was certain.
He’d met several, though it seemed the Wakefield brood alone worked at the counter. John Paul hadn’t asked in so many words, but they’d all had a similar cut to their features. The old man inside bore a strong resemblance to the young man he’d met on his first time in the store. The Colonel could even see a resemblance between him, in spite of the hard lines and wrinkles, and his beautiful daughter.
If there were employees, they certainly weren’t in the front of the store. There was a door to a back room that he’d noticed and dismissed before, but now he wondered if perhaps there wasn’t a back entrance as well. That would make it easier than if everyone went in the front way, went around the counter, and into the back.
No, he was certain that there would be someone in the back. More than likely they would take breaks at frequent intervals to smoke a pipe-full of tobacco. Armed with his new conviction that they would be around any moment to take a break, he stepped into the alley.
He followed the alley around toward the back and was unsurprised to find that there was a row of doors in the back of the shops. There was a smaller sign, hand-painted, that said “Wakefield’s” over a door. At least he knew that he was in the right place.
A few minutes passed; he had little to do but wait, and he regretted that he hadn't purchased a newspaper to at least pass the time reading. John Paul had a sickening suspicion that if he should leave for a moment, someone would come out to smoke and he would miss his chance. He waited fifteen minutes behind the shop, though it seemed to pass slower than the hours of work he’d done earlier.
Then he heard footsteps inside the back door and he realized with a sick jolt to his stomach what sort of fool he’d made of himself. There would be no explanation for loitering around back behind the place, except perhaps that he was some sort of burglar.
There was also a real chance that he’d run into her elder brother, or worse, her father. He was about to duck around another corner and be gone when the door opened. One of the delivery boys stepped out, already tamping down a bit of tobacco into a large wooden pipe. He was just putting the pipe between his teeth when he saw John Paul, and his mouth widened into a grin.
“Oh, hey there, mister. Everything alright?”
John Paul hesitated for just a moment.
“Yes. Everything’s fine.” He took a deep breath and continued. “Would you mind if I asked you a
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