“‘Ave ye ‘ad anythin’ to eat?” Mariah asked.
Alexandra shook her head.
“Then ‘ere.” Cold hands pressed a portion of a roll into her lap. It was a hard, crusty remnant of an earlier supper, but Alexandra was hungry enough to eat anything.
“Take a few ticks to rest,” the woman suggested.
“Thank you, but if I do, I’ll never get done.” Alexandra stuffed the entire roll into her mouth so her hands could remain free.
“Listen. I just finished my own work. I’ll stitch for ye if ye’ll take fifteen minutes or so an’ sleep.”
Surprised by the kindness of Mariah’s offer, Alexandra looked questioningly into her face. “But you could go home now.”
“I don’t mind ‘elpin’ ye for a while. Now pop along an’ do as I say.”
Carefully avoiding the small puddles caused by the rain, Alexandra lay down, wondering if she’d ever be able to get up again. Her back and arms ached, her head throbbed, and the cold, unyielding cement provided little comfort.
Still, she drifted into a dreamless sleep almost as soon as she lay down.
In what seemed like seconds, a gentle hand woke her. “I ‘ave to go now,” Mariah said. “Ye’ve been sleepin’ for an ‘our. That ought to ‘elp. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”
“An hour!” Alexandra scrambled to her feet even though her body still felt like she’d been thrown from a horse. “You let me sleep an hour? And you’ve been working that entire time?”
“Aye, but I ‘ave to go now. I’ll be back in the mornin’.”
“Wait.” Alexandra clutched the other woman’s arm. “I’ll do the same for you sometime. I promise.”
“I’m sure ye will.” Mariah studied her, then lowered her voice. “Ye know, ye seem like a good lass. I ‘ate to see ye get into trouble, so let me give ye a piece of advice. Stay away from Gunther, if ye can.”
“Why?” she asked in surprise. But Mariah pulled away, leaving Alexandra to stare after her as she walked out onto the rain-spattered docks.
* * *
A man with a wet newspaper under his arm hurried down the street several blocks from Dr. Watts’s residence. The hour was so late and the weather so poor that he was the only person Nathaniel had seen in two hours of searching for Alexandra.
“Excuse me, sir.” Nathaniel nudged his horse forward.
The man turned, obviously surprised at being stopped in the middle of a downpour.
“Have you seen a lone young woman with blond hair and green eyes around these parts tonight?”
The man scowled as the wind blew rain into his face. “No,” he shouted above the inclement weather, then ducked his head and rushed away.
Nathaniel sighed. He was wasting his time. He’d never find Alexandra by rambling about without some clue to tell him where to look. Unfortunately, the dress shops on Tutty’s list were long closed, and he had no way of determining the identities of the owner or manager of each one, though he wouldn’t have hesitated to raise them from their beds if he could.
He sat in the downpour, blinking rain out of his eyes, a solitary figure. As much as he hated to give up, there was nothing he could do except return to the doctor’s and pray for better luck in the morning.
* * *
Alexandra was exhausted. She’d worked for nearly thirty-six hours with little sleep, and now she could only lay her head back on the cushioned seat of the pony-chaise as a chill wind whipped at the strands of hair straying from her bonnet. Occasionally drops of rain fell onto her cheeks from the black night overhead, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She was oblivious to the weather, and almost everything else, until a coughing spell seized her. Then she sat up, her eyes blinking in bewilderment. It was so cold, and she’d had nothing to eat but the spot of tea Gunther had pressed on her earlier.
“Where are we?” she asked.
Her new boss sat at her side, driving. “You’re not well,” he told her. “I’m taking you home, where there is someone to care for you. Don’t worry, it’s only another street or two.”
It seemed as though they’d been traveling for hours. “But you said you’d take me back to Dr. Watts’s,” Alexandra protested, pulling her shawl more tightly about herself. She shivered. Her fingers were like ice, yet her face felt flushed.
“A hot bowl of soup, and you’ll be good as new. Believe me, I’ve got just the thing,” he said.
* * *
The rain began to fall more heavily, disturbing Alexandra’s sleep. Soaked to the skin, she wished for a heavy wool cloak to replace Mrs. Turtle’s knitted shawl. Then she realized that the chaise was no longer moving. Where was she?
Raising her head to look about, she saw that she was alone in a filthy street outside a tall, rickety building made of wood. It leaned sadly to one side as tattered drapes escaped from an open window on the second story to slap against the pane overhead. A light silhouetted the figures of a man and a woman in the same room. The male form clasped the woman from behind and tossed her onto a bed, and their laughter rippled down with the rain.
Climbing unsteadily to the ground, Alexandra clung to the side of the pony-chaise, feeling as though she might faint. All the strength was gone from her legs, but she forced herself to move. She had to find her way to Dr. Watts’s.
“Wait!”
Before she’d traveled more than three steps, the door to the teetering house opened. A girl came bounding down the front steps, despite wearing a full skirt, and skidded to a halt in front of her. “Going somewhere?” she asked, her eyes gleaming.
The most remarkable thing about this stranger, besides a broken front tooth, was a lovely feather boa that rested above a revealing bodice.
“I’m afraid I’m lost,” Alexandra admitted, wondering just what kind of woman dressed as this girl did. “Could you perhaps direct me to a constable?”
The girl whistled through her teeth, proving that she could put the broken one to good use. “I doubt there’s a constable who dares to walk these parts. I’ve never seen one, anyhow.”
Gunther came out of the house and descended the steps, his face dark with the shadow of night and his usual thick, black whiskers. “Maggie, go inside. Her room is ready now. I’ll handle it from here.”
“Can’t I help her settle in?” Maggie pleaded. “We’re friends already.”
Gunther scowled but acquiesced. “Very well. You can take her up.” He turned to Alexandra. “I’m going to see a friend of mine while you get some sleep. We’ll talk later.”
“I’m afraid there’s been some kind of misunderstanding,” Alexandra said. “I can’t stay here. My friends are expecting me.” She glanced from Gunther to the girl he had called Maggie. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but—”
“Nonsense.” Gunther took her by the elbow and began to pull her toward the house. “You’re only exhausted. I know the place don’t look like much, but Maggie’s happy here. Right, Mag?”
Medium brown curls bounced as Maggie nodded.
“You just need some rest. There’s a lot to be done come morning. I have a big order to get out, and I need you to be ready.”
Something told Alexandra Gunther was lying about: the order, but she was too ill to figure out why. She felt her legs give way and saw the ground rushing up to meet her only seconds before Gunther caught her in an iron grip.
“Watch out,” she heard him say to Maggie. “I’ll have to carry her in.”
She felt him swing her up into his arms, then heard him grunt while climbing the stairs. His breath came in heavy gasps by the time they entered the decrepit house.
Alexandra opened her eyes just long enough to see several female faces gaping at her. She heard the creak of a stair, smelled rotten food and sweat and bodies, and soon found herself lying on a large, rumpled bed in the middle of a room containing a washbasin and an overstuffed bureau. The walls, covered with purple lilac paper, were smudged with dirt and dulled by the years. A heavy shade covered one small window.
Time seemed to pass in an erratic fashion. Alexandra didn’t know if it had been minutes since the ride in the pony-chaise or hours, but she was grateful for the fire that raged at one end of the room.
Managing to climb off the bed, she crawled toward its warmth, anxious to dispel the terrible chill in her bones. She was so cold, not just on the outside, but deep within as well.
Glancing back, she cringed to see the bed she had been sleeping in and guessed it had been months since the linens were changed. Even in the flickering firelight she could see the brown stains of God knew what.
But she couldn’t worry about that. Not now. She stretched her fingers toward the flames.
“There’s our new lass.” A large woman with carrot-colored hair burst into the room, carrying a lamp. Freckles covered her face and arms and the good deal of bosom revealed by her low décolletage.
“I’m Caroline,” she announced. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you sooner, but I was rather… indisposed.” She laughed gaily as she set the lamp on the dresser. “I suppose Maggie took care of you all right. But now we must get those wet clothes off before you catch a chill.”
Alexandra wanted to tell her that it was far too late for that; she was already freezing. But her tongue was too thick and heavy to obey her will.
Caroline rummaged through the chest, withdrew a flimsy red nightdress and wrapper, and began to dress Alexandra as though she were a doll.
“You don’t look well, love,” she commented, chafing Alexandra’s hands to warm them as a nanny might do for her ward. “We’d better get something hot down you. Gunther tells me you’ve had nothing but a cup of tea all day, and that will certainly never do. You’ll lose what precious few curves you have in no time.”
Alexandra was too weary to understand why Caroline, or whatever her name was, should be talking about curves. The woman’s voice was gentle, and at that moment, kindness was all that mattered. Alexandra needed a friend, someone to care for her, as she felt so incapable of caring for herself.
“Perhaps Drake will have to wait until morning to take a look at you,” she commented. “You couldn’t cross the channel like this.”
“What?”
“Just get in bed. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
The feel of the place was all wrong, the smells revolting. Gunther had led her to believe he was doing her a favor, but she was beginning to suspect him of putting something in the tea he had given her earlier. She had to leave, find her way back, except that she didn’t have the strength to stand, let alone propel herself to the door. Her eyelids soon grew so heavy, she couldn’t lift them any longer, and she let them close, welcoming the oblivion of sleep.
* * *
“Wake up. There’s someone who wants to see you.”
An insistent hand jiggled Alexandra awake. She blinked several times before a face came into focus. It was Caroline, the woman she had met before.
“Alexandra, lass, can you hear me? You’ve got your first bite.”
“Bite?” She had dyspepsia, maybe. She didn’t know anything about a bite. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her words sounding as slurred and unnatural as she felt.
“You don’t want Gunther to come after you. Come on, we have to get you ready.”
Slowly Alexandra’s faculties began to return. She still felt terribly ill-equipped to do anything difficult, like stand or walk, but she could think two coherent thoughts in a row. And she had recognized Caroline.
“Caroline?”
The woman smiled. “Aye, it’s me.”
“What is it I’m supposed to do?”
Caroline turned away and began to ransack the drawers of the bureau. She tossed a burgundy corset on the floor, mumbling to herself, “I’ve never seen a man who could refuse that.”
“What are you talking about?” With no more strength to hold herself up, Alexandra slumped back onto the floor where she’d been lying in a heap. She wouldn’t have gotten back in the bed, even if she could have dragged herself across the room. “It’s still dark yet. Gunther said I could sleep here until morning. Surely any sewing can wait that long.”
Caroline chuckled and turned to face her, hands on her hips. “Sewing! My, you are an innocent. No one sleeps here at night, my precious, or any other time they have a paying customer. And you just got your first.”
Lifting her head off her arms, Alexandra gazed at the sheer lacy corset Caroline shoved toward her. “My first what?”
“Paying customer. Put this on. There’s a gentleman downstairs who’s had too much to drink, and he grows impatient. Believe me, things will go much smoother if you simply hurry and be done with it. The drunk ones can get violent.”
The things Alexandra had heard and seen since coming to Gunther’s house had swirled in her mind like dreams, weaving themselves in and out of her consciousness. She hadn’t known what was real and what imagined, but finally they coalesced into something that made some sense—only, the picture they painted was frightening indeed.
“You expect me to sell myself?” she gasped, shoving herself back into a sitting position. The question was more of an accusation, but instead of getting defensive, Caroline rolled her eyes.
“I don’t expect nothing. I’m just telling you how to survive here. It’s Gunther who does the expecting—and the collecting. Now, unless you want him to give you a few bruises and maybe a split lip to go with the coming sting to your bottom, I suggest you get dressed. I don’t know how to tell you any plainer.”
“You’re saying he’ll beat me if I refuse? But I never agreed to come here in the first place!”
Caroline shrugged. “He doesn’t always ask permission. And you’re here now, aren’t you? Drake’s coming to take you across the channel in the morning. You’ll never escape once that happens. You won’t even want to. For all the rough riding, a brothel is still better than the gutter, which is where you end up if you leave.”
She paused long enough to study Alexandra’s face, and softened, “Maybe if you act eager to earn a few coins on your back, Gunther will let you stay in England. He only sells the ones he nabs. If he can make a good profit off you here, there’ll be no reason to sell you. That’s your only chance of avoiding France, but that’s the best advice I can give.”
“How can you help him do this?” Alexandra felt panic surge through her veins, weakening limbs that were already too weak to perform their usual functions. “You know I’m ill. He drugged me, didn’t he? That has to be what happened. And I was weak already.”