The Wrong Girl(31)

"I could have been lying dead in a ditch by then, and no one would have known."

Tommy approached and handed Jack his coat and gloves. Jack slung the coat over his arm and clutched the gloves. "Olson would have alerted me immediately if Clover had turned up riderless."

"That may have cost valuable time."

"If you'd been dead, there wouldn't have been any hurry, would there?"

I gave him a withering look, and he gave me a triumphant smile. Tommy smirked in the background, but sobered when I switched my glare to him.

"I notice you've been avoiding me ever since," I said to Jack. "Any reason for that?"

"None in particular."

The carriage pulled up in front of the house, laden with our luggage. Sylvia descended the stairs wrapped in fur from head to toe. "Are you two arguing?" she said. "It's going to be a long journey if you are."

Jack walked outside, ignoring her.

"Everything's fine." I caught up to Jack. "You can't avoid me now," I said. "You'll have to endure my company all the way to London."

He held the door open and Tommy helped me inside, then he did the same for Sylvia. She sat opposite me as Jack shut the door without getting in. I pushed the window down and poked my head out. He doffed his hat, gave me another one of those irritatingly smug smiles, then sprang up onto the driver's seat alongside Olson.

I sat back heavily and clicked my tongue. "Your cousin is..." I couldn't think of what to call him. The truth was, I liked Jack and he liked me. I just wished he hadn't lied to me.

"Infuriating?" Sylvia offered. "Stubborn? Secretive? Volatile?"

"Secretive, yes! Tell me about his past. He said his parents died when he was young, yet he didn't come to live here with your uncle until he was fourteen. What did he do in between? Where did he live?"

She stroked the fur collar of her coat near her chin to flatten it. "It's not my place to tell you. Besides, I'm not really sure of the entire story myself. Be patient. He'll tell you in time."

Time. How much did I have?

***

London was nothing like I expected. I thought it would be all gleaming glass windows and vibrant color, but the reality was quite different. It was gray. Gray buildings, gray muddy roads and gray air. Even the people were dressed in gray, their faces merely a paler shade of the same color. The smells of horse dung and factory fumes clung to the city, and I insisted Sylvia keep the carriage window closed.

"It's been so long since we've been here," she murmured, her nose pressed to the pane. "I'd quite forgotten what it was like. Look, there's a milliner's, and another, and...my goodness, there's four on this street alone!"

"You'll be sure to find a hat you like then."

"And you too."

"You forget I haven't any money. There was no opportunity to ask Lord Wade for an allowance before I came."

"Don't be like that, Violet. Uncle will buy you anything you want."

"I doubt his generosity will extend to extra hats considering he's already provided several, thanks to you."

She turned her bright smile on me. "Don't be silly! Of course he will. Anyway, Jack's in control of the money and he won't deny you anything."

I smoothed down my skirts, intent on ignoring the rush of blood to my face that betrayed my thoughts. "Hasn't your uncle given you an allowance of your own to spend any way you like? Why must you rely on Jack?"

"Because that's the way Uncle wishes it. Who am I to gainsay him?"

"Perhaps you ought to try," I said, but she mustn't have heard me. She was too busy bouncing up and down, pointing at a confectioner's shop.

"We'll be sure to visit there," she said. "I long for something sweet, a tart perhaps. Oh, and bonbons since Christmas isn't far away. I wonder how long before we arrive at our hotel."

She chatted on as the carriage drove down streets bustling with late afternoon shoppers, pointing out things that took her fancy, which was almost everything. Her enthusiasm was infectious, however, and I too became engrossed in the sights through the window. London was truly an amazing city, and extensive. We seemed to be driving through it forever.

But what really took my breath away was the lack of nature. No trees, no grass, not even a bird flew overhead. Not that I would have seen it anyway through the murky haze. Indeed, the only thing flapping up high were washed linens hung out to dry in some of the narrow alleys we passed. How anything dried in that filthy, damp air was a mystery.

The carriage turned a few more corners, winding its way through the traffic, until finally the buildings became more magnificent and the pedestrians fewer and better clothed. This part of London at least seemed a little less gray than the rest.