This is the ninth entry out of the thirty I'm attempting. It is part of a series of thirty entries so I hope you'll read each daily post to find out what happens in the end.
The journey he’d taken to Hertfordshire was already proving a good idea, he thought, as he slowed to the unexpected tableau by the street-edge.
One lovely little face and a weathered one met his as he hopped off his phaeton. After embarrassed greetings from the stranded, he knelt to the wheel’s level. “This is split through to the axle. I’d not recommend trying to push it out, Langston, unless you wish for it to collapse sideways.”
Before Langston had replied, he called the man’s driver over. “You! Run over to Fredericks’… yes, he can help … tell him it’s for me.”
Does anyone want to know our hero's name? Perhaps I'll reveal it in the next entry.