**Episode 6.
The Woman of Highbrom**
At that moment, there was a sound of screws loosening, and the door suddenly swung open.
A drunken man and Liri stumbled outside together.
Thinking this was her chance, Liri screamed and kicked the man.
Her sharp scream ended just as a carriage stopped in front of them. The large wheel filled Liri’s vision. Without thinking, she threw herself in front of the carriage.
“Whoa, whoa! Stop! Stop!”
The coachman, shocked, pulled the reins and the carriage jolted to a halt.
“Hey! What are you doing jumping out like that? Do you want to die?”
“Please help me, I beg you! Get me out of here. Please help me.”
Hearing the commotion outside, the carriage stopped. A man inside looked out the window. His eyes lingered on Liri’s clothes, then shifted back to her face.
“What is it, old man?”
“Well, this girl suddenly jumped in front of the carriage. Could’ve been a disaster.”
Fights between drunk men and barmaids happened all the time. And everyone knew about the gangs who jumped in front of carriages to demand money.
But this was different. The girl’s face was familiar.
Christopher Belmore, riding in his modest carriage that drew little attention, recognized her at once.
She was the girl who had crouched in the convent basement, eavesdropping. The one who had sneaked into the greenhouse.
And now, she was someone who shouldn’t be in Londinium. Someone who couldn’t be here.
At that moment, the drunken man’s taunting voice grated on his nerves.
“Well, what do we have here? A noble lord coming all the way to Highbrom? Here to buy a woman? I saw this girl first.”
The drunk swaggered and kicked the carriage. Christopher finally opened the door and stepped down.
The coachman tried to stop him, flustered, but Christopher remained calm. Even if the drunk swung a fist, he looked like he wouldn’t blink.
“Should I call the police, or should I handle this myself?”
His voice, directed at Liri, was cool and even.
“You’re talking nonsense.”
The drunk swung his bottle. The man didn’t even try to dodge. Liri squeezed her eyes shut.
Thud!
When she dared to open them, the scene before her was nothing like she expected.
The sound of bones breaking filled the air. The drunk was now sprawled on the ground, gasping and spitting teeth.
“You crazy bastard.”
“Calling the police would save your life. Want me to call them for you?”
“This is my territory. I don’t care if you’re a noble—argh!”
The drunk couldn’t finish his sentence. Christopher stepped hard on his hand with his polished boot. He didn’t hesitate to crush him.
“A useless hand like this isn’t needed in life, right?”
Another cracking sound made Liri cover her ears.
“Stop, stop it!”
Terrified, Liri screamed. She had never seen anyone beaten so mercilessly before.
Christopher turned his head, then lifted his foot. The drunk scrambled away toward the tavern door.
“Out of the convent and working here, are you? Find another job.”
He slipped off his leather gloves and gestured to the coachman. The coachman calmed the startled horses and prepared to open the carriage door.
But again, Liri blocked his way.
“He’ll come after me again.”
Her desperate voice made Christopher stop.
“Please.”
Her pleading eyes were like a rain-soaked bird.
While Liri was panting for breath, Christopher remained composed, even after dealing with the violent drunk.
“…Get in.”
He nodded, and the coachman helped her into the carriage.
“This makes three times now.”
He spoke slowly.
Liri knew what it must look like—climbing into a perfectly dressed man’s carriage in this state. But all she could think about was escaping this place.
“Where do you live?”
“Once we’re out of here, I can go on my own.”
She clutched her chest awkwardly. There was no way she could return to the Rutland house like this. She just needed to get far away from Highbrom.
“No, from the looks of you now, you can’t.”
Instead of staring at her, he took down a coat hanging on the wall and handed it over, keeping his gaze fixed on the window.
The cashmere coat was still warm, as if he had just been wearing it. Wrapped in it, her body relaxed.
“Drop me near St. Margarita Convent. From there, I can manage.”
“The convent is gone.”
His cold reply made her fall silent, clutching the coat tighter.
“I’ll take you somewhere safe instead.”
The words felt like magic. He hadn’t said where, but the promise alone brought relief. Wrapped in the warmth of the coat, swayed by the steady rhythm of the carriage, Liri’s eyelids grew heavy.
*Don’t sleep.*
But she hadn’t eaten all day, and now that she was warm and safe, her mind grew hazy. His face blurred—two, then three, then back to one. Finally, darkness swallowed her.
“To Belmore Hotel.”
Christopher looked down at the girl collapsed in his coat.
St. Margarita Convent was now nothing but ruins with a holy painting left on the wall. He couldn’t leave her there.
*Why didn’t she go to East Longfell?*
It was impolite to stare at an unconscious lady, but she was just a common orphan. She had no father or brother to challenge him to a duel for looking.
Her face was still round with baby fat, her skin pale like many from the working class. Her long lashes cast shadows under her eyes, where tears had stained her cheeks. Her straw-like blond hair was tangled and dull.
Her thin, frail body was shown too clearly by her tight dress, and a necklace peeked out between her small, lifted chest. It swung with every jolt of the carriage, making an irritating sound.
She looked no older than fifteen, maybe eighteen at most. Working in a red-light district? It was absurd.
“Lord Belmore, we’ve arrived.”
The coachman bowed as he stopped the carriage. Christopher shook Liri’s shoulder, but she didn’t wake, still lost in her dreams.
Her weary life after leaving the convent was easy to imagine.
Recently, Londinium was full of vagrants and street girls. Boys shined shoes by force and demanded payment, while girls shoved wilted flowers into hands or sold their bodies.
Even the Queen had visited poorhouses, but the problem was far from solved.
*A girl from St. Margarita Convent becoming a street woman…*
*“We must take care of the convent girls too, my lord. If they become beggars, people will blame you. You drove out the nuns, so now show some mercy.”*
Rufus’s advice echoed in his mind.
Orphans with nothing were easy prey to temptation. If lucky, one might marry a common man. But judging by this girl, even that seemed unlikely.
Christopher Archibald Belmore wasn’t the type to care about the opinions of the lowly. If commoners hated him, it wouldn’t touch his reputation or wealth.
But politics were different. Phil Gordon, the councilman, still watched the shady events surrounding the convent’s closure.
Scandals had to be cut off at the root. A foolish girl who worked in a tavern while loudly declaring she came from a convent was a danger.
He lifted her limp body. She instinctively curled closer into his chest. She was warm and soft.
Pulling his coat tighter around her to hide her face, he carried her into the hotel.
—
