Travener’s right hand landed on her thigh, hot and heavy, as he turned towards her. By the flare of a streetlight, Clarissa caught sight of his glittering, intent eyes as she shoved his hand from her leg and slid across the smooth seat towards the door.
Travener followed her, crowding her against the side of the carriage. His hands were everywhere. One squeezed at her breast, while the other made quick work of pulling up her skirt and sliding beneath and up her leg. Cold air swirled over her bare flesh.
His mouth descended into hers with a bump of teeth and morphed into a rough kiss.
Clarissa pushed at him with the arm closest to him while her left hand groped for the door handle. “Get off me!” Her left hand found the handle and she hung on to it for dear life.
“Come now, Miss Bartlett, do not be shy,” he slurred. “Half of London has seen your skin on that stage. Let me show you how much I admire you.” He pulled at her bodice. “Let me see your apple dumplins.” His breath, a sour mix of claret and oysters, assailed her nose.
Clarissa elbowed Travener in the chest and slapped his hand away. “Aunt, help me!” Her heart pounded wildly.
Her efforts did little to deter Travener. He turned further towards her and maneuvered a knee over her thighs. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll fill your cock alley before you know it. You’ll like it, I guarantee.”
Her blood froze. He was deadly serious in his intent to have her here and now. She was out of her depth, almost overpowered by Travener’s strength and weight. This was her last chance to fight him off. She balled her hand and pounded her fist into his groin, connecting with his erect cock.
The howl of pain and outrage Travener emitted as he fell back from her onto the carriage seat was more satisfying than a dozen curtain calls by a packed theatre audience. The carriage slowed to turn a corner and Clarissa wrenched the door open. She leaped from the vehicle.
Clarissa hit the pavement with a thud and pain seared across her hip. She scrambled to her feet, fearing Travener would follow her, and ran up the front staircase of a three-story row house and into the deep shadow of its portico. Her heartbeat at a wild gallop as she gulped in the cool night air.
Clarissa’s legs turned to jelly. She leaned against the house wall and slid to the ground. She slumped there, her hand clutching her chest, trying to calm herself but instead reliving the scene in all its horror.
Finally, she pulled herself together and peered into the lit street.Where have I ended up?
This looked like a respectable neighborhood.And Travener had seemed like a respectable gentleman. She hurried down the steps to the street corner to read its sign.Garrick Street.
They hadn’t been heading for her lodgings at all. Where had they been destined? Some love nest set up by the men, towhich they took their intended conquests? She shuddered at the thought of what would have happened after they arrived. If not before.
She wasn’t far from The Regent Theatre. If she returned there, the porter-caretaker would call a hackney for her. But if she went home, they might come looking for her there.
What to do? Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding. She couldn’t stay here. They might come back looking for her, or some other shady character might find her.
Clarissa hurried in the direction of the theatre, heart in mouth, hoping she wouldn’t be accosted and taken for a woman of the night.
A quarter hour later, she had easily gained admission to the theatre and breathlessly asked Old Thomas, the porter, to hail a hackney for her. She gave the address and hurried inside the vehicle. Slumped against the squabs, impatient to arrive at the place she hoped would provide sanctuary, she twisted her fingers in the crumpled skirt of her silk dress.
She paid off the driver at Harley Street and hurried up the shallow flight of steps to the front door. A nearby gas streetlight cast a flickering beam her way.
The door knocker was removed from the bright blue door. The school was closed! Surely a caretaker staff remained? She rapped on the door with her knuckles.
Eventually, she heard footsteps from within. The door creaked open to reveal a middle-aged man with wiry grey hair cropped close to his head. He appeared to have dressed hastily in his black outfit. He held up a lit candlestick. “What ’cher want at this time of night, Miss?”
“The Miss Brodys, if they’re home. Reverend Francis sent me here.”
“Sorry, Miss, they’re all in ’ampshire for Christmas.”
“Oh! Reverend Brody too?”
“Not ’im, he’s in Lunnun still.”
Clarissa pulled out the last card Francis had given her. “I have his address.Atcherley Chambers.”
“Yes, but you can’t go there, it’s gentlemen only, Miss.”
“I must. I’ve nowhere else to go. He gave me his card in case of such an emergency.”
The man sighed loudly and beckoned her inside. “Wait in ’ere. I’ll let Mrs. Creevy know I need to go out.”
Chapter Five
