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“Oh… Let us take our leave, Ruby,” said Jane quietly.

With her face burning, she turned around to walk out as the other two seamstresses whispered and giggled behind her back.

A flash of brown caught the corner of her eye, and Jane spun to follow the movement just as a rat scurried into the open, ran right under her feet, and proceeded through the shop and under the form with the red dress. Lady Fairchild, her two daughters, Madame Dubois, and her helpers climbed onto the countertops and proceeded screaming their throats out, clutching at each other in horror. Jane, who was used to the presence of rats in Whitechapel, calmly watched the rat run around the shop, make a circle right in the middle, and then stop, sniffing, its long tail trembling.

Ruby stepped aside, allowing Jane to open the door and put a chair against it to give the little creature a way out, then she followed the rat, shooing it towards the door. Finally, the animal ran out and there were similar screams outside. As the six women stopped screaming, gasping in relief as they climbed down, Jane removed the chair and closed the door, a little satisfied that she hadn’t lost her senses from fear of a little rat as these ladies had.

Nothing impressed Madame Dubois, however. “You brought that vermin in with you. Get out and go back to where you belong before you lower the reputation of my establishment. I suggest you go to Cheapside. There are plenty of seamstresses that have unclaimed dresses there for you. Here, on Bond Street, no client would dream of leaving a dress unclaimed.”

Right. She belonged with the rat, outside of Mayfair. Hot and sweaty with humiliation, Jane nodded and walked out. She should have known her place. Her place was not with Richard and not in Mayfair.

Her place was back in Whitechapel.

16

Jane walked out of Madame Dubois’s shop, fresh air chilling her heated cheeks.

“Do not fret, love,” said Ruby as she squeezed Jane’s hand. “You do not deserve to be treated like that. And I can try to make something like what they have…”

Breathing hard, Jane looked at dear Ruby and pressed out a smile.

“You’re too good to me, Ruby,” she said. “Thank you. But I never should have gone in. I should have stayed in Whitechapel.”

She looked around, blinking burning tears away. “Let’s not wait for Lord Richard. We’ll just hire a hackney and leave.”

“If that is what you want, love,” murmured Ruby.

As before, passersby walked and chatted cheerfully, completely unaware she was wishing the ground would collapse beneath her and suck her into a deep abyss, away from the humiliation that burned her alive. There was nothing her poor housekeeper could do.

“Let us take one of these,” said Jane when she saw three hackneys parked about ten feet down Bond Street. She marched there, ready to cross the busy road with carriages riding up and down.

The other side of the street was even more packed with people walking and browsing in colorful shops. Carriages stopped here and there to let richly dressed ladies and gentlemen out, then parked, waiting for them to come back.

Everything was colorful and tidy, the three-story buildings pristine. The scent of horse manure, exotic perfume, and baked goods overwhelmed her. The clomping hooves of dozens of horses, the rattle of heavy carriage wheels, the chatter of people talking and laughing, and the dinging bells over the doors of the shops were a cacophony around her.

She was so plain, so strange, so completely opposite of this world of glittering jewels, silky dresses, elegant postures, gossip, and witty social banter. So disinterested in social status and reputation.

And this world knew that and rejected her.

Jane had stepped into the road, ready to maneuver between the carriages coming at her from both directions when, to her left, the door of the snuff box shop opened, and Richard stepped out. He saw her right away, his handsome eyes sparkling with delight at first, then a frown crossed his face.

She turned to cross the street, but three carriages were passing by just then, and she had no way of escape. In those few moments, Richard reached her and Ruby.

Leaning down, he said quietly, “Are you all right, Jane? Why did you come out so soon? I thought I’d have at least an hour or so to kill waiting for you.”

She squared her shoulders. No point in falling apart before him, before dozens of fashionable ladies and gentlemen strolling Bond Street.

“No,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t go to the soirée. Let us keep at our search tonight so that we may soon be done with this charade.”

Traitorous tears burned the backs of her eyes. She wouldn’t make a scene right here. She wouldn’t. She sniffled, blinking fiercely through the blurring tears, commanding herself to get herself together by any means necessary.

“Jane, you’re distressed,” Richard said and gently took her by the elbow, leading her away from the road.

Ruby hurried after them. “My lord!” she cried.

“Please, Ruby, give us a moment,” he said.

He led Jane into a small alleyway between two shops where she’d be somewhat secluded from the peering eyes of onlookers and gossipers. Ruby stood a few steps away, throwing worried glances at them. He went into his inner pocket and handed her his handkerchief, and she turned around and wiped her wet eyes.