Page 144 of The Siren of Sussex

Evelyn stiffened.

Ahmad drew her along with him down the street, putting as much distance between them and the brothel as possible. “Ignore her,” he said.

“What a horrible woman.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Nor do I need to. You dislike her excessively. That’s enough for me.”

Some of the tension in his muscles eased. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me it is,” she said. “Did she not treat you well? I know she dismissed you, but—”

“It’s not only that.” The two of them walked back down the lane. “She’s a particular kind of woman. I’ve met many of her type since coming to England. They’re unpleasant at the best of times, dangerous at the worst.”

“Dangerous how?”

“If you cross them, they use all of their power to punish you. And they have a great deal of power.”

“She didn’t look very powerful.”

“Because of her class? She’s still an Englishwoman.” Ahmad looked out at the intersection of the lane ahead. “If Mira didn’t go to the brothel, I can think of only one other place she might be.”

“Where?”

“Lost Hope Yard. Becky has lodgings there above a rag-and-bone shop.” Tucking Evelyn’s hand more firmly in his arm, he guided her down the lane and to the right.

“I thought Becky was living above Doyle and Heppenstall’s now?”

“Not consistently. Her room at Mrs. McCordle’s is paid through the end of the month. She still goes back there on occasion, when she’s had enough of the other seamstresses.”

They walked down one lane and up another, keeping a brisk pace so as not to invite interference from beggars or any of the people who lingered between buildings.

At last, they came to the corner of Lost Hope Yard and the crooked wooden structure that housed the rag-and-bone shop. Becky was pacing in front of it, arms crossed at her waist.

Relief tore through him. “Becky!”

She looked up with a start. Her face fell. “Bloody hell. What do you mean by coming here?” Her gaze flicked to Evelyn. “And why the devil did you bring her?”

Evelyn’s hand fell from his arm as he strode forward.

“Where’s Mira?” he demanded.

“She’s upstairs, but— Wait!” Becky held her hands up to block his path as he moved to walk around her to the door of the shop. “She’s visiting a friend.”

“What friend?”

“Her old sweetheart.”

“What?” For an instant he could only stare at her. Mira had never had a sweetheart. She’d never had any relationship with a man at all. She was far too shy.

“She knew you’d take it bad,” Becky said. “What with you always treating her like a child.”

Ahmad ignored that. “Who is it?”

“A sailor. He only came back yesterday. She thought he might have died at sea. Either that or forgotten her. She’s been in a right state over it.”

“So you just . . . let them use your room?” He moved Becky aside.