Was thereno helpthat he could offer her?
She stared at him. He stared back, a faint smile on hisface. It wasn’t a menacing smile, or even a petty smile, but this man had begun to unnerve her, just the same.
She cleared her throat. “Would you be able to, reliably, point me in the direction of the River Thames, perhaps? Just the general direction? I should be able to find my way to safety if I only knew the location of the river. To orient me.”
Slowly, he began shaking his head, the gesture of a man who had searched his heart and mind and, yet again, come up with nothing.
Drew began to shiver.
“The river...” he breathed. “I do believe is... that way?” He waved a limp finger and pointed, remarkably, innodirection. “Or is it that?” He pivoted and failed to point again. “Honestly, I cannot say. I do not travel to work by boat. I come by carriage. Bad knee,” he said, making atsking noise.
“Fine,” said Drew, visibly shaking now. “Do you have anything like a map of the city? I’ve said I have no money, sadly, but if you would allow me to merely look at a London map, and if you could but name the street on which this shop is located, I should be able to sort out the direction to the river.”
“Oh, madam,” he said, “but you do not requiremoneyto make a purchase in Godfrey’s Treasure Trove. In fact, I do not accept money as payment—not ever—it has been my long-standing policy these great many years. I only accept itemsin trade.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Drew. “Whatitems?” Now the unsettled feeling flipped into a more chilling and tangible sense of wariness, the second cousin of fear.
What would he require of her in exchange for the map? Some... service? A lock of hair? She glanced around at the incongruous smattering of items crowding the shop. Was this man about to cut off a finger in exchange for a city map?
“Oh, anything you may have on your person that you find you can live without,” he said. “Some items I’ve recently acquired in trade include a pen, a hand mirror, the shell of an ostrich egg, an illustrated book of indigenous peoples in the Americas, and a crystal rock.”
“Yes,” said Drew, even while she meant,No, no, no—this has not happened to me.
“I’m afraid I’m not in possession of anything... of that nature,” she said. “I’m alone with only my horse and my sodden clothes.” She made a sound of distress, half laugh, half sob, and she realized she was about to cry. “I don’t even have two shoes at the moment.”
“Oh!” said Mr. Godfrey. “But I am in search of a mismatched shoe.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The one shoe? If you can part with it, I would happily take it in trade. I’ve a gap in my inventory for single shoes.”
“You’re joking.”
“No indeed. Would you be so kind as to allow me to appraise the item, madam? I can tell you immediately if it suits my needs and what I may offer in return.”
“Is that so?” said Drew, irritated now. She paddled under the heavy ruined hem of her dress and removed her shoe. Unceremoniously, she dropped it on the counter in a runny wad of pink satin. It hit the glass with a wet, squishyslap. It seeped rainwater.
“Yes,” mused Mr. Godfrey, removing a pencil from behind his ear and picking the slipper up with the lead. He held it between them like a scientific specimen. “Lovely. When it dries, I should be proud to have it. We are in business, Mrs....” he faltered.
“The Duchess of Lachlan,” provided Drew, a little surprised to hear the name come from her own mouth.
Although a fat lot of good it did her in this instance.
“Your Grace,” said Mr. Godfrey, bowing his head. “Very good. Now, what will you select in exchange?”
“We had discussed a map of the city,” Drew said, hervoice less generous every time she spoke. This exchange defied belief. If ever she made it back to Pollen Street, if ever she found a way tohold Ian downafter they’d made love, she would tell him every unbelievable detail.
“Sorry,” said Mr. Godfrey, sounding truly regretful. He was taking her shoe, still hanging limply from his pencil, through a door that led to the back. “But we are fresh out of London maps at the moment.”
Drew would’ve screamed, if her chattering teeth didn’t prevent her from fully opening her mouth. “Wh—”
“But!” said Mr. Godfrey cheerfully, reappearing, holding a small pendant on a chain. “I do have a compass!”
Chapter Thirty
In the stable, with four footmen gathered round, Ian had unfurled a map of the city and identified five possible routes Drewsmina might have taken from Piccadilly to Blackwall. There were no guarantees, of course, but they had to start somewhere. It was a distance of some seven miles, although not necessarily a complicated journey if she’d found her way to the river and borne east.
East London represented a whole different level of challenge; it was the most treacherous quarter of the city and the river only invited more danger. Even if she found her way, she would be vulnerable to the desperate and the vile. The grooms, some old, some young, all of them accustomed to life in Dorset and not London, would be vulnerable. All of it was risky, and that said nothing of the storm. The wind had calmed but the rain was unrelenting, a steady, punishing torrent.
