*Jay*
It's deuced stupid for me to be so blasted nervous, I tell myself. I've inspected every inch of the carriage. It sports not a single scratch. The leather seat is thick and comfortable. The driver and groom, splendidly turned out in the noted Claybourne livery, are almost as well matched as the pair of grays.
Standing in front of Miss Newmoon’s lodgings, I fight not to pace. I check that my neckcloth is still properly in place and my buttons done up. I wear the same jacket and trousers as yesterday, but my waistcoat is dark green brocade, my neckcloth a pale yellow.
When I went to Claybourne’s to retrieve the carriage, I allowed enough time so Claybourne’s manservant could trim my hair and nails, as well as shave me. I am not a man accustomed to uncertainty, nor am I generally take
