“Well, I am glad you revived it,” Xenia said sincerely. “Cherries or no cherries, your pudding is delicious.”
“Thank you, dear. Let’s pray that it draws customers.”
The proprietress narrowed her eyes as a trio of ruffians sporting striped neckerchiefs staggered by, bellowing a rude song and snarling at frightened villagers, who scrambled out of their way.
In an undertone, she added, “Let us also pray that the riffraff doesn’t scare off the decent folk. If this keeps up, Chuddums will be filled with nothing but Corrigans.”
“Corrigans?” Xenia asked.
“Not so loud.” Mrs. Pettigrew glanced around nervously before replying. “The Corrigans are the gang that have taken over the docks. Their members wear those neckcloths with orange stripes, and make no mistake, they’re a shady bunch. A cousin o’ mine who works at the Redding constabulary says the Corrigans are suspected o’ burglaries and other crimes, but the evidence and witnesses against them have a way o’ disappearing. They’re the worst sort o’ trouble—take my advice and steer clear o’ them, do you hear me?”
While Xenia doubted that the Corrigans could be worse than her mother when it came to villainy, she nodded. She had no intention of going anywhere near the gang.
“Now I must get to work. Enjoy the fair, dear.” Mrs. Pettigrew straightened her shoulders, and hefting her tray, strode into the crowd. “Try my Poor Knights Pudding, fresh and tasty!”
Xenia continued her stroll around the square. She waved at Wally, who was happily giving tours to unsuspecting visitors. When she passed Mr. Bailey’s and Mr. Khan’s shops, she saw both men were busy with customers and did a happy skip on their behalf. At the Briarbush Inn, Mr. Thornton insisted on serving her a cup of cider on the house. She thanked him and bought one of his wife’s golden-brown mushroom pies to enjoy away from the hustle and bustle.
She exited the square in search of a quiet spot. Turning right on a small street called “Spring Lane,” she saw that it was deserted. Most of the storefronts were boarded up, and the few places open for business were empty, their half-closed shutters giving them a sleepy look.
A sudden shout snagged her attention.
“Let me go, you bastard!”
The female voice was familiar, and without thinking, Xenia dashed toward it. Two alleyways down, she spotted Alice. Her friend was being pinned against a brick wall by a large, menacing male.
“You weren’t so hoity-toity last night, you stupid slut,” he snarled. “I said I’ll pay for the upright this time.”
“I don’t want your blooming money. Now get off me,” Alice screeched.
The bastard grabbed her skirts, shoving them up as she struggled. “If you don’t want to be paid, then I’ll sample your bleedin’ wares for free?—”
“Let her go!” Xenia ran toward her friend.
The brute turned his head, and his lust-glazed eyes stopped Xenia in her tracks. He had dirty-blond hair, arrogantly handsome features, and the familiar, orange-striped neckerchief tied around his neck. He was drunk in a way that made him more, not less, dangerous.
His eyes slitted in a speculative manner. “If it isn’t a little lost kitten.”
Xenia’s palms turned clammy, but she knew better than to show fear, which was an aphrodisiac to bastards like him.
“Let my friend go, and there won’t be any trouble,” she said evenly.
To her surprise, the ruffian released Alice. The latter stumbled, catching her balance on the opposite wall. Xenia noticed her friend’s eyes were also bloodshot from drinking.
“I’ve let ’er go.” The cad leered at Xenia. “What do I get in return?”
Xenia forced herself to stand her ground. “A clean conscience?”
“Ain’t got no use for that. I’d rather ’ave some company.”
He moved with shocking speed, grabbing her before she could get away. The next instant, she was shoved against the wall, sandwiched between brick and a heavy wall of muscle. A wave of panic crashed over her.
“Alice, help me!” she shouted.
Her friend stared at her…then took off down the alleyway.
Stunned, Xenia registered the trouble she was in. She opened her mouth, but the blackguard gripped her by the throat, strangling her scream for help.
“Now that the old slattern is gone, we can ’ave ourselves some fun.” He oozed a noxious odor of spirits and sweat. “I’ve been hankering for some fresh meat.”
