The Complete Regency Bestsellers And One Winters Collection. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.

      These words went around and around Cassandra’s mind, the refrain plucked from Tennyson as he balanced desire against reality. With more courage she might have told Nathaniel of Jamie and of Paris and of searching for him ever since he was lost to her. She might have reached out, too, in the darkness and simply laid his hand upon her heart so that he heard the strong beat of want and need. And reply.

      But Cassie did none of these things as the carriage drew to a halt and the seedy backwater streets came into view—the call of the driver, the light rain against the cobbles making everything slick-wet and the moon far behind a bank of clouds ensuring darkness.

      Her world. The mirrored shadows. And beyond that the river, sludge-grey as it ran sluggish out to a freedom at sea; neither Camelot nor any other kingdom of dreams.

      ‘Be on your guard,’ she whispered as they made their way on foot down an alleyway, the high and close buildings leaning in, every window hung with the remains of dirty washing flapping in a dirty breeze.

      A woman met them almost instantly. ‘There,’ she said and pointed to a door, the paint peeled and the knocker broken. ‘They have been here a few days and they are back now. I seen a tall man go in there a while ago and he has not come out again since.’

      Nat pulled a knife from his boot.

      ‘He were dressed well, too,’ she returned. ‘He will be in the room at the rear.’ Taking a coin, their informant left, her shawl high up around her hair as she scurried off into the night.

      * * *

      Nathaniel looked around to make certain no one else was watching them. ‘Stay behind me, Sandrine.’ She had insisted that she would be in charge, but he was pleased to see that she obeyed instantly and moved to let him pass. A tall and well-dressed stranger who was up to some nefarious deed. Could this be the man the urchin by the river had spoken of? The corridor inside was narrow, many closed doors leading off it.

      Raising his hand, Nat pointed at keys dangling in a door that was left partly ajar. These people were not expecting any company. They were also patently amateurs. His hopes faded.

      He was inside in a moment and he knew without asking a question that the two youths before him were insignificant within the chain of command. Both were young and both were unarmed, the expressions on their faces frozen.

      On a bed no bigger than a cot a young woman sat crying, her hat beside her and her hair unbound.

      ‘Who the hell are you?’

      ‘Will Fisher, sir,’ the one nearest to him stammered, ‘and this is my brother. He was stupid enough to believe the Lytton gang might pay him a sovereign for a girl new in from the country and he brought her here. Now that I have talked some sense into him we don’t know what to do with her.’

      ‘Is this right?’ He addressed this query to the girl and she nodded. ‘Did they hurt you?’

      ‘No, sir.’

      ‘Why did you bring her to this place?’ He addressed this question to the older brother.

      ‘Kyle Lytton uses it as a hideaway. Jack saw them here over the past few days and thought they were still about.’

      ‘How old are you?’

      All three answered at once. The brothers were seventeen and eighteen, respectively, and the girl but fourteen.

      ‘Get out.’ This was said to the brothers and they did not tarry for a moment, moving past with the look of felons unexpectedly excused from the gallows.

      Cassie was already at the girl’s side. ‘So you are not hurt in any way?’

      ‘No, ma’am. The coach was late and they only just brought me here. Or the younger one did. His brother was furious and arrived straight away after.’ She burst into loud and noisy sobs. ‘And now it’s dark and I don’t know where to go or what to do...and Da will be furious if I arrive back again with nothing in me hand...’ At that thought she could barely carry on.

      ‘What is your name?’

      ‘Sarah Milgrew, ma’am.’

      ‘Well, Sarah, you can stay with me tonight and tomorrow we will find you a place. We have our carriage outside on the next street.’

      ‘I canna afford much for a room, ma’am, but I can sew like an angel, Miss Davis says, and am quick with it.’

      ‘A useful trade and most sought after.’

      ‘My sister came to London some weeks ago and we have not heard from her again. I had hoped to try and find her.’

      Nat’s mind went back to the two girls pulled from the river. ‘Did you sew for her?’

      He saw Cassandra’s eyes fasten on his face, a small frown building on her forehead.

      ‘I did, sir. She left with one of my dresses on and another in her bag. She said she would show people what I do here and find a room for both of us. Da took her to the coach up to London and we had no word after that.’

      Both the girls from the river had been well attired, but there was a touch of the country about them. Could this be the lead that he was after?

      ‘And the coach comes into...?’

      ‘Gracechurch Street, sir. It’s five hours’ travelling in good weather from Wallingford and more if it is wet. That’s where the young man met me and said he could help, but when he brought me here I was afeared...’ She clutched her small bag tightly and looked around the room, drab and furnitureless save for the bed.

      What connection could these girls have with a man who was obviously from London? Could something have happened in their home town to lead them to each other?

      Wallingford was just outside Reading. He filed the name in his mind to be considered later, but right now he wondered how often Cassandra Northrup took it on herself to bring girls like this one home. Many times he surmised by the ease in which she gathered her up and showed her through the door.

      In the carriage the young woman seemed to fold into herself and lean against the far corner, a pose which spoke of hopelessness, implying the difficulty of all she had been through. But at least they had arrived in time. Observing Cassandra’s care, Nat knew that circumstances had not been anywhere near as lucky for her.

      The same awareness that he had experienced back in France all those years before wound into the middle of his chest, and he forced it down. These thoughts were nonsensical because he had no place in her life now, nor she in his.

      He felt anger as she raised her eyes to look at him, the street lamps illuminating the deep shadows of dimple in her cheeks, and was glad to see the gates of the Northrup residence when they came into sight, the fat-bodied hawks on each side swathed in vines.

      As the carriage stopped the front door was thrown open and two maids hurried down the stairs to greet them. They had done this before, Nat thought, as Miss Milgrew was dispatched without fuss or bother into their capable hands, the trio then disappearing up the wide front staircase and into the house.

      Cassandra was still sitting in the carriage, but had moved on to the seat opposite, pulling the door closed in a way that suggested she required privacy.

      ‘If your estate or town house has any need of competent staff, we have a number of girls I could recommend who could well do with a job.’

      This was the last thing he thought she might say, though as he leant forward he had to stop himself from drawing closer.

      ‘Accompany me to the Herringford ball next week, Sandrine.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because I want you to.’ And he did. Desperately.

      ‘Acacia