They ran the length of the corridor and to a narrow, wooden staircase at the far end. It descended steeply into darkness. Seth led the clattering way to a paved corridor with windows that looked out onto a stable. He turned away from it, leading her back along the lane she had used to bypass the doorman.
“Do you not wish to ride?” she asked. “Where precisely are we going?”
“Fleet Street, eventually. But we will see what the night has in store for us first, eh?” he smiled.
Charlotte found herself smiling, too. She had been on the verge of complete abandon while she was huddled in his arms. She had been recalled to herself brutally when he had used her sister’s name. Now, it felt as though she were on the verge of freedom once more. This was the kind of adventure that she daydreamed of when imagining Amelia’s life in London.
Fairy tale balls, handsome dukes. Dancing on the frozen Thames at the frost fair, racing horses around Hyde Park, or...this. Flying into the night on a mad whim.
The pair turned corners and flew down streets past the astonished faces of ladies and gentlemen promenading on this summer’s evening. They were in the fashionable parts of London still, the streets wide, well-paved, and home to well-dressed people outside of tall, well-kept homes.
“Where are we going?” Amelia asked again, laughing and quite almost panting. “I must stop and catch my breath.”
Seth slowed, also breathing hard.
“This is The Strand,” he began, gesturing to the far distance with an odd pride. “Over there is the river, behind that maze of lanes and alleys. Fleet Street and my London residence, the top floor of a building that is also home to a tailor’s shop, lie along this road. Are you hungry?”
As if on cue, her stomach grumbled. She blushed a rosy red. “Was it so obvious? I was supposed to be dining out this evening, so I have not eaten since breakfast.”
“Ah, I feel somewhat to blame,” Seth grimaced bashfully. “Well, fret not, I have the very solution. Not that stuffy old Wilkins. No, this is the true food of London. The food of the streets!”
With that, he was ushering her away again, across The Strand after him and to the mouth of an alley. A rusting, dirty sign nailed to a brick wall announcedVillers Street. Just within the alley was a man tending a brazier on which a suckling pig was roasting.
“Charlie boy, two roasted pork rolls if you’d please,” Seth bellowed out to the son of his former butler as they approached.
“Your Grace!” returned a delighted squawk.
Within the alley, a group of men tossed dice against the wall and exchanged pennies. More stood about the brazier, munching on rolls of bread with large slabs of meat sticking out. There was a chorus of greetings from the men, and the proprietor of the brazier promptly began cutting two healthy portions of meat from the roasting joint.
Amelia certainly did not relish the idea of eating it, but smiled and tried to put on a brave face. Seth grinned as he took his roll and bit into it.
“Try it,” he coaxed.
She closed her eyes and bit tentatively at the meat. Her eyes shot open.
“It is… delicious,” she whispered in awe.
“Hillcrest’s finest, eh,” Seth rubbed the boy’s nape with pride.
“Finest in all of London, I say!” Charlie guffawed.
Taking one for the road, Seth jerked his head to the alley, leading Amelia past the gamblers. It ended at a low wall, and beyond it was the river. He leaned on the wall, looking eastward at the Thames.
As suspected, it was a divine sight.
The moon had risen and cast a bright, sharp, white glow over the water. The silhouette of St Paul’s rose up against that stark light. Stars peppered the sky. The light was exquisite.
“Charming, is it not?” His breath fogged in the cool evening air. “Now, I will wager that you have rarely ventured out of doors to sample the night light. Is this not more beautiful than your uncle’s chandeliers or your aunt’s jewelry collection?”
Amelia shook her head and took a moment to swallow her mouthful. “In fact, I have seen many a starlit night in Yorkshire where there are very few lights to spoil the dark and obscure the stars.”
He arched a brow. “Yorkshire? You lived there?”
She hid a guilty face behind another healthy bite of her pork.
“I grew up in Carlisle with my mother and sister. I have visited Yorkshire, where she lives. My sister Charlotte, that is.”
She stepped closer to the wall, leaning on it next to Seth.
