The sign above the shop window read Harrister’s and Bush paused to gaze at the brightly lit display. He had no desire to go inside and would wait for his sister and Lady Barbara to disembark, hopefully flush with success.
The street lamps were already lit to provide help in the fog and Bush pulled out his watch to check the time. Half past three. Darkness would be heavy soon.
He had at least arrived at the right geographical location and could only hope that Lady Barbara’s coachman would have the ability to navigate the treacherous streets and arrive here in a timely manner.
His eye was caught by a flash of red in the window and he moved a little closer to examine it. Among the many high quality pieces of women’s garments, lay a fine cashmere scarf. It was one of those lovely rare true reds---the shade found on fat, round autumn apples, or perfectly ripe strawberries.
