CHAPTER 1
TEN YEARS LATER
“Marjory?Marjory! Whereareyou?” Amelia hissed, clutching her reticule tighter to her chest.
This was the sort of place where one might lose one’s reticule—and indeed one’s life—by setting foot in the wrong alleyway.
And I should know of the dangers. I live here.
This was most certainly the wrong place for a woman of any description to set foot, but the fruit-seller on the corner had been quite clear about seeing a girl of Marjory’s description scuttle along this way.
Marjory was not, of course, as distinctive as her older sister, being of middling height and a good deal thinner, but she was still noticeable. The Holt girls were all blessed with relatively good looks. In Amelia and Marjory’s case, their looks were coupled with thick red-blonde hair and large brown eyes, whereas little Nancy was going to be dark, like their mama.
Being pretty was not, in Amelia’s experience, a useful thing. A man sprawled on the floor of the alley, tucked behind a pile of rubbish, and he whistled drunkenly as she hurried by. She made it only a few steps before pausing and reluctantly turning back to the drunk.
“Excuse me, sir,” she ventured, poised to flee should he drag himself to his feet and lunge at her. “I was wondering if you had seen a young girl of about fifteen run through here. She is wearing a rather threadbare blue cloak and last Season’s bonnet.”
The man blinked slowly at her. “You think I’d recognize any Season’s bonnet?”
That is a fair point.
“No,” she conceded. “Have you seen any girl rush through here?”
He sniffed, shifting. “About ten minutes ago, yes. Pretty thing, she was. Like you, only not so tall. I bet you’re taller than all the men, eh?”
“Many of them, yes,” Amelia responded tartly. “Did she look distressed? Upset? As if she were fleeing from something?”
He hiccupped. “Nope. Just excited. She was scribbling something in a notebook.”
“Of course she was,” Amelia muttered darkly. “Just wait till I get my hands on her. Thank you for your help, sir.”
“Sir?” he echoed, chuckling. “Proper little lady, you are. What’s a fine high society beauty like you doing in a place like this?”
Amelia pressed her lips together. “I am not a lady, as it happens, and I am certainly no part of Society, high or otherwise. Excuse me.”
She hurried off, and the man made no move to follow her, content with chuckling to himself.
The alleyway led to another back street, this one a little larger but equally unpleasant and full of rubbish. Amelia found herself at a loss, turning this way and that, desperate for a glimpse of her sister.
It would, of course, have been safer to hire a cab, if only to provide a little shelter from the heaps of rubbish and the people skulking among them. But cabs were expensive, and their drivers seemed to possess a sixth sense for passengers in acute need—and would raise their prices accordingly.
Movement at the far end of the street caught her eye, a flash of an old blue cloak disappearing into yet another alley. Brightening, Amelia hurried in that direction, rounding the corner in time to find a young girl poised to haul herself up onto a broad windowsill. The latch of the window was a little cracked, suggesting that it could be jimmied open. It was already open a few inches, begging to be pushed open entirely.
“Marjory!” Amelia hissed. “What are youdoing!”
Marjory let out a yelp of panic, releasing her grip on the sill and stumbling backward. She landed on her bottom in a filthy puddle and scrambled up at once. Of course, the dirty water had already soaked through the material of her cloak and dress.
Amelia’s heart sank, imagining the scrubbing that awaited her. Marjory simply did not have the patience or determination to scrub stains out of anything.
“You startled me,” Marjory huffed, dusting off the front of her dress and ignoring the wet patch behind her.
“So I should. Were you about to climb through that window? That is breaking in, you know. People get transported for less, especially if the owner of the house decides that something is missing and you have stolen it. What are youdoing?”
Marjory flushed. “I am chasing a story, if you must know.”
Amelia groaned loudly, burying her face in her gloved hands. “I regret the day I let you sell gossip to those awful scandal sheets.”
“I am awriter!”
