Page 16 of The Marquess of Secrets

Hiding from the law.

“I do object,” the doctor said. “There are many sick people and young children here, and they should not be alarmed in any way.”

The copper glanced about. “You’re aware this place is illegal? All soup kitchens do is attract vagrants and criminals. They were outlawed for a reason.”

The doctor crossed his arms. “You would haul in well-meaning nuns, Sisters in Christ, for providing a bowl of stew to the destitute?”

The detective rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, maybe not the good sisters, but I’d take you in with no hesitation. Legally, I can close this underground charity. And I will unless you allow me to walk about.”

Lydia heard enough. Apparently, so had others as a few of the men started to shove their way through the crowd.

“You won’t be takin’ me, copper!” one bellowed as he headed toward the tunnel exit. An old lady was shoved to the ground, and a man threw a punch at one of the panicking people. All hell broke loose. More shoving, yelling, and fisticuffs.

It turned the detective’s attention as well as the doctor and nun. Lydia used the opportunity to slip away. As she skirted past some empty pallets, she shamelessly grabbed up pieces of bread and an apple with her free hand and broke into a run.

She didn’t stop running until she was out through the makeshift door and three streets away. Out of breath, Lydia ducked into a dark alley and stood against the wall, hidden in the shadows.

Once again, she was on her own.

It was then she realized the blanket still hung about her shoulders. Staring down at the food in her hand, now she was a thief in reality.

A desolate sob escaped her throat as she placed the food in her bundle. For a brief moment, she was allowed to hope. To believe that she could start over, be someone else.

Now that she knew the police were seeking her—and probably Huntsford was looking for her as well—Lydia had no choice but to head out of London.

Fatigue washed over her as another coughing fit wracked her body.

But not tonight.

Feeling her way down the dark alley, she found crates piled up in the corner. Wedging herself in behind them, she curled up against the bricks, pulling the blanket tight about her.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. For a brief moment, people were kind to her. Offered her assistance and compassion.

Lydia would never look into those caring and beautiful silver-gray eyes again, and the thought tore her heart in two.

Chapter 6

As Harrison spun the Honorable Miss Nicola Westbank about the ballroom, the cloying scent of lilies of the valley filled his nostrils. The girl was no more than eighteen or nineteen, much too young for him. After taking stock of the eligible ladies at this dance, Harrison came to the conclusion that he’d waited far too late to enter the so-called marriage mart.

Usually, a man of his age would pick one this young strictly for breeding purposes. Perhaps a tiny part of him still hoped that love would enter the equation. The thoughts of sharing his life with a simpering, giggling girl made his insides churn.

Harrison glanced down into the hopeful face of Miss Westbank, who smiled shyly at him. Pretty enough, but she barely spoke. Only flushed in reply to any of his inane utterances. He’d long since run out of small talk. As a result, his mind started to wander as he continued to waltz across the dance floor.

As he had many times the past five days, he thought of Miss Best and her mysterious disappearance.

To leave while the detective was there spoke of a more serious reason for her homelessness.

Was she the woman that the detective sought? The physical description certainly fits.

Why the distraught Miss Best kept entering his thoughts—and his dreams for that matter— puzzled as much as concerned him.

Accept it; she’s gone.

Harrison wished he’d helped her in the way that she needed.

People around him were clapping, so he ceased dancing and did the same. Offering his arm, he quickly escorted the girl to her parents, Viscount and Countess Roland. Once he reached the party, he bowed slightly and turned to leave.

“One moment if you please, Lord Tennington,” the countess sniffed, “Who is that young man accompanying you?”