“That’s Jem—on the carriage,” Buttons told her in a low voice. He wavered in place.
“Go.” She pointed down the way they’d just come. “We’re almost there. I’ll retrieve what I came for and meet you outside.”
Not waiting for his agreement, she raced to her old room. The door was ajar. “Shouldn’t be surprised,” she muttered, pushing it wide, amazed to find any possessions remaining. In the grey light of dawn, she stepped to the old trunk that’d doubled as a dresser. Opening the hinged lid to search inside, she heard a tiny cry. Then another.
What was that?
The soft, persistent sounds came again from the corner and quickly bloomed into an all-out baby’s wail.
So she had new neighbors on the other side of the wall? The strident cry of a hungry child, something she’d become benumbed to over the months of living in close proximity with so many people, unnerved her.
A baby.
Cherished brush in hand, Thea sat back on her heels and closed the trunk with a thunk.
A baby.
Oh Lord, the last two nights she’d forgotten to practice what Sarah had taught her. Nay, Thea realized with a gasp, she’d forgotten it every time. Had just assumed it was no longer necessary, not with how Lord Tremayne used the beribboned preventatives.
But at the opera—
And then last night in his bed—more than once!
Last night. The reminder of those precious hours softened the horror of her discovery. The prior eve, she’d been so very concerned for him, intent on showing him how much she cared naught about the stammer; how much she cared for him.
Well, blow me to Bedfordshire and back. A baby.
Loving him seemed so instinctive, so perfect, that she’d never thought to question the consequences.
Aye, her sensible side countered, with a baby and out on your gullible backside—worse off than you were weeks ago if you aren’t careful.
Although that scenario paled in comparison to the idea of Daniel being gone from her life—his witty notes, his hearty laugh, the weight of his hard body coming into hers—
His arms holding her deep into the night.
If she was already enamored this much, after only a few days, what would happen in time, when she was thoroughly entranced by his spell?
Aren’t you already?
“Not so bony anymore, are ya, eh?” A menacing voice hurled the accusation. “Almost didn’t recognize that rounded arse on ya. That frilly dress.”
Grimmett hauled a dazed Thea to her feet.
She’d been so lost in the fanciful imaginings of rocking Daniel’s child, her mind far away from the sickening reality of her time here that it took several seconds to grasp who—and what—she now faced.
“Turned into a short-heeled wench after all. I always knew you were th’ sort to fall on your back. Where’s he keeping ya? Eh? Answer me, girly!” Grimmett twisted her arm when she remained silent.
Fear rushed in as though it had never left. The past week vanished and she was living on the edge of starvation. The sharp blade of terror.
“So the fancy toff’s feedin’ you more, I see. Or is it more ’n one that’s butterin’ yer bun?” Every motion of his cracked lips revealed blackened teeth, blasted rotten breath into her face. “You workin’ at Mother Mary’s now? Makin’ the beast with two backs with any man who gots a shiny coin? ’Sat why ya ain’t been around?”
Her heart hammered so hard her chest hurt, limbs tensed so tight they squeaked. The days of meager hope looking for employment, evenings spent trying to block out the neighbors’ yelled fights, and the long, rodent-filled nights of despair and hunger squeezed aside her newfound confidence.
Thea all but cowered.
“Don’t deny you been whorin’—I kin smell it on ya.”
“Nay.” It was a whisper, a whimper.
He sniffed her neck, his black teeth snagging her skin as he rooted around like a mole scavaging grubs. “Got the scent of a well-prigged woman…”
She squirmed for freedom.
This couldn’t be happening.
It was over! This horrid part of her life. The despicable things she’d eaten, the dirty clothes worn day after day. The tussles with Grimmett. Always watching over her shoulder for him—and others of his ilk. The terror. The bugs. Over, by damn!
“Think yer too good for ol’ Grimmett, do ya? Always did act like you was above ever’body.” He tightened his hold on her wrist and twisted harder. Inches away, his fetid breath assaulted her nose. “I see them fancy, peer-bought duds yer wearing. Can spread your legs for a toff’s penny but not Grimmett’s?”
She watched in a self-inflicted stupor as his tongue circled narrow lips. His gaze flicked to her chest, eyes gleaming when they caught sight of the chain nestled beneath the bodice.
No! The word got locked in her throat.
God, no!
Fight, Thea!
He reached for it. “What ya hiding here?” He fingered the chain, then gave a yank. When it didn’t budge, he slammed her back into the wall and covered one breast. His fingers squeezed cruelly. “Not looking so high and fine, are ya? Just a sniveling street whore is all you are, all ya ever were.”
Bile rose in her throat, choked off her air.
He released her wrist and clamped his dirty fingers on her bodice. The material ripped at his downward heave, making way for his insistent fingers to clutch at her bared breast, for his other hand to snatch at the ruby while he pinched and clawed at her nipple.
But his words had unlocked the paralysis imprisoning her limbs. Sniveling street whore, accused Grimmett.
I do have it in my head that he’s a snivler, proposed Lord Tremayne in one of his first letters. Your dear Mr. Freshley…
Lord Tremayne. Daniel.
Her dear protector!
In the eyes of God and man, she might be no better than a street whore. And the elevated new status she enjoyed just might come crashing down as soon as Lord Tremayne tired of her, but by all that was good and fun, joyful and right, by God, she wouldn’t let anyone take away a single day of her happiness.
Especially not Grimmett.
Unfrozen, Thea kicked and screamed. The brush
