Page 72 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

I’m out on the streets. At midnight. A woman alone.

Now for the hard part. She peered up and down the street, looking for a carriage.

Cabs for hire generally patrolled up and down the streets. She’d seen them go by, and they appeared to be easy to flag down. She’d even seen women clamber into them before. Seldom women alone, yes, but still. Perhaps a nice-looking cab would suit her.

Just as she thought that, a black cab began to trundle down the street towards her, pulled by a dirty brown horse. Thalia nervously lifted her hand, and the cab slowed.

A man peered down from layers of cloaks, eyes glinting from beneath a battered top hat. “You’re out alone, missy,” he leered. “Going somewhere?”

A cold shiver skittered down her spine.

I’ve made a mistake.

“No, sorry,” she managed weakly. “I made a mistake.”

The man didn’t pull away. He leaned forward, his head extending from the nest of cloaks like a tortoise inching out of its shell. He had a thin, gaunt neck, and his mouth seemed to pull inwards, as if he didn’t have many teeth and his gums were eating themselves. With the butt of his whip, he shoved his hat a few inches up on a greasy forehead.

“Now, does anybody know you’re out here, missy?” he asked.

Thalia tightened her jaw. She couldn’t remember anyone ever calling her missy. She was Lady Thalia or just Thalia. Missy made her feel small and childish.

That was probably the intention.

“Yes, of course.” The lie sprang to her lips without her even deciding to tell it.

The man grunted. “Tell you what, you hop up beside me. I’ve got a nice blanket here, and we can sit together all cozy. I’ll take you where you want to go, and you needn’t give me any money. How about that? I bet you don’t have much money, but I’ll take you there, never mind a few detours on the way. What do you think about that, eh?”

“No, thank you,” she responded crisply. “You’re very kind, but⁠—”

“Now, you listen here,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, angry hiss. “You get up on this seat, or I’ll clamber down and drag you up, you hear?”

If I turn and run back to the house, will he follow me? And if he does, can I outrun him? Should I try?

“No, thank you,” she insisted, body braced to run. A cold breeze tugged at her cloak. “Move on, please, sir.”

“Move on, she says,” the driver growled, setting aside his whip and shuffling to the edge of his seat. “I’ll teach you to tell me what to do, girl.”

Before Thalia could break into a run, a crack echoed through the air. Both she and the driver froze. Then there was a second crack, and the driver screamed, clapping his hand against his cheek. Blood welled up through his fingers.

“You move on, friend!” boomed an unfamiliar voice from behind.

Flinching, Thalia spun around. A second cab had come rumbling up, unnoticed, while she argued with the lecherous driver. This man held a whip in his hand, poised. She was sure that the end was tinged with blood. He pointed it warningly at the lecherous man.

“You leave her alone, you hear! And this is my patch, you know that! Piss off!”

The driver snarled out a curse and scrambled back to his seat. Seizing the reins, he spat in Thalia’s direction—she was fairly sure that the spit didn’t even clear the cab but just landed on his seat—and then drove off.

Thalia watched him go, heart pounding. She felt sick. When he was gone, she glanced tentatively up at her savior.

This driver was dressed much the same, with layered cloaks around his shoulders and a top hat. He was a large man, even under all the layers, with wide shoulders and a round, pleasant face. Clicking his tongue, he dragged his gaze away from the receding cab and back down to Thalia.

“Well,” he said, “you’re lucky I turned up when I did. Old Tom isn’t a respectable man. I wouldn’t want a daughter of mine to get into his cab, not even if she had to walk ten miles otherwise.”

“Yes, I suspect I’m something of a fool,” Thalia responded, voice shaking.

The driver chuckled. “You’re too young to be out alone. Frankly, I don’t think that any women ought to be out at night, not in London. Now, have you money for a cab fare home?”

“I have money for a cab fare, but I’m not going home.”