Lady in Red, Eliza Knight [have you read this book TXT] 📗

Her heels clipped against the cobblestones of Shaftesbury Avenue onto Charing Cross Road, sloshing in the muck, and stamping on spilled rubbish. She dodged hawkers touting their wares—newspapers, oysters, apples, flowers.

Get away, get away, get away…

Elizabeth had been fully aware of the risk she took by working for another wealthy nobleman near Hyde Park—after all, she had to walk near Terrence’s manse every morning; her “husband’s” family had a blasted road named after them. But for nearly a week, he hadn’t noticed her, and working was not a choice. She needed it. Desperately. Without steady pay, she and Sarah would be homeless, starving—and they were nearly there as it was. The route she’d taken at this new house, just as her previous place of employment was the longer way to avoid his home. But the person who cared for Sarah each morning had been pushing back the time causing Elizabeth to need to rush, which meant taking the shorter route right past him—a tactic made easier when she believed him to be out of town.

Many times over the past two years, she’d thought about seeking him out, if only for relief. But she had principles, even if he thought them nonexistent. But she had a duty to her daughter, and that was the one thing that kept her on the steady path forward, not looking back.

The hat. The blasted hat. It was the only reason she’d been caught, and now poor Sarah would suffer for it. What a fool she’d been to think she could marry such an influential, powerful man and come away from it unscathed. Even if their marriage was a legal farce—and she was well aware of that irony.

Elizabeth was so lost in her head that she didn’t see an oncoming carriage until the horse’s breath swooshed against her forehead. She leapt out of the way a second before she would have been trampled.

“Get out o’ the way, ye strumpet,” the driver called, passing her by with a rude hand signal.

Elizabeth swallowed her shock at being publicly branded a prostitute. She might not be wearing a hat, and her shoes and the hem of her gown were covered in muck, but she…she had once been a countess, even if she was only pretending. Never mind that—every human deserved respect. But she couldn’t let one grumpy driver’s words ruin the rest of her day. Keep your mind on the present.

Her hand pressed to her pounding heart. She needed to pay more attention, or Sarah would suffer the loss of another parent. That thought was enough to scare her more than the exhalation of the horse on her face.

Her throat tightened, forming a lump she could hardly swallow around. Her breaths came in rapid gasps, and she couldn’t seem to even them out. Backing farther from the road, she bumped into one person after another, panic rising.

Without a word of reply at the offensive man or the people she knocked against, Elizabeth slipped into a narrow alleyway, grateful that at least some luck was on her side as it was empty. Her legs shook; she could barely feel her feet. She slumped down onto someone’s stoop, her back leaning against the saggy wood panels, and prayed they wouldn’t open the door until she’d had her cry and gone.

The last time a horse had nearly trampled her had been a situation of her own making—and the moment she’d met Terrence.

Tugging a handkerchief from the inside of her sleeve with shaking fingers, she brought it to her mouth and sucked in air, trying to calm herself. It felt like her heart was in a race against her breath. Ever since she’d moved forward with her plan two years ago, it seemed as though everything was spiraling out of control. Faster and faster until she was scarcely steady on her feet.

What was she doing?

Not just sitting here. But in general. Why was she even still in London? Wouldn’t it have been better to take Sarah to a small, quiet, remote town in Scotland, near her family, away from Terrence? At least there they’d be far enough that there wouldn’t have been the chance to pass by his house or run into him on the street.

Or was there something else at play here? Maybe running into him had been what she secretly hoped for, that he’d find her and…and what? She’d get to live happily ever after?

A great sob shook her then. Happy endings weren’t made for women like her. Not her class. They were meant to work hard and serve the ones who got their happy endings, never to find them for themselves. Part of the reason she’d agreed to leave Scotland with Linden was the hopes he’d filled her with. That life in London would be so much different than the little fishing village they hailed from.

They’d have money and an elegant flat. They’d drink champagnes and have a bath whenever they want.

She was an idiot. A fanciful idiot.

An idiot who had to get to work, or else she’d be fired, and then her darling daughter wouldn’t be fed. Elizabeth didn’t care so much if she herself starved, but she had a duty to see her daughter wasn’t tormented by her parents’ faults.

The window beside her banged open, and whoever was within the building tossed out the contents of a chamber pot onto the alley cobblestones. The stench was overpowering. Elizabeth was lucky to jerk out of the way before anything landed on her skirts.

“What are you doin’ there?” a woman shouted. “Get off my steps, else I toss another pot on your ’ead.”

Elizabeth didn’t doubt that she would; she’d seen it done plenty of times before. She didn’t waste any time bounding up and hurrying away. Slipping, hopefully unnoticed, through the streets and alleyways, she arrived at the back of the great house and through the servant’s entrance unscathed of body, though she was of mind.

“You’re late,” the head housekeeper said, hands on her hips and the pinch of her