We made it.
The air was different, so different out of the house. It whipped at my face.
My panic stirred, but I’d learned to ignore the frenzied feeling that made my lungs burn.
Closing my eyes, I leaned on Ester and soon we were on the pavement. I blinked, and I saw the carriage standing in front of me.
I jumped in so fast Ester must’ve thought I’d lost my mind. Well, I had years ago, but a survivor did what she had to do.
The carriage moved.
Ester stared at me. She must have thought I was crazed. Part of me was. I’d put hope in Adam again. I prayed his family, his wealthy Mayfair family, didn’t see my face and turn us away.
Chapter Six
The Widow’s Cold Feet
The carriage moved down Fournier Street fast.
“We’ll be on Gracechurch soon,” Ester said, in a way meant to both inform and let me know we could turn back.
I put on my spectacles and looked out the window.
Shops. Houses. People.
I didn’t know the streets anymore.
That saddened me.
I thought of when I had. I thought of the docks and Adam walking me to Papa’s warehouse near the Thames. We’d done that every week for six months.
For just a moment, I let bitterness sweep over me. It blasted through the knitted weave of the shawl, rattling the spaces betwixt my ribs. Adam’s loss became fresh in my mind again, and I hated how I’d let the size of my world shrink.
My fault. My fears. My fleeting fire—my hands couldn’t hold on to it. With proof, I’d shut up the naysayers. I’d be able to be bold me for more than a few moments.
I sat back on the seat and adjusted my spectacles, but the heavy things gave me a clear view of my sister’s frown. “Say your peace, Ester.”
My sister took off her straw bonnet. Her chin lowered as if she couldn’t hold my gaze. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Ask your questions or repeat the lies I’ve heard for four years. Lord knows they are numerous.”
Ester raised her head at my chuckles. Her topaz eyes were fiery. “Going to find an old beau, the man who deserted you, is not worth your time. It’s a scandal that should never be mentioned.”
She grabbed my hand. “You are worth so much more than a dandy who lied and lacked faith.”
“Adam was fashionable but no dandy.”
My sister pounded the seat as if she had become frustrated. “He didn’t know the jewel that you are. How can you debase yourself and crawl back to him? Great, you found where the scoundrel lives. Slap his face and leave him be. I’ll help you. If I’d known, I’d have brought a poker.”
Part of me was quite proud of my sister’s outlandish streak. Part was touched by her love for me. But a big part of me needed her to believe my truth.
I folded my arms about the plain shawl, no fringes, no special collar, plain, plain peach in hue. “You finished? My Adam was no bounder. Before you think of striking an innocent, know that Adam did not trick me. He did not bed and dump me. He was none of the lies you’ve been told.”
Ester’s angelic face scrunched with her lips poking out. She flattened her palm against the ebony cloth of the tufted seat. “Then tell me what happened.”
“Adam Wilky was an actual man. We did marry at Gretna Green. He was killed by a bunch of evil, horrible men who robbed us on our way back to London.”
“That’s not what Papa and Mama said. Papa found you in a brothel.”
