Lord Stoneleigh let out an exasperated sigh.
“Who?”
James took in a breath.
“I believe that was -although I cannot be certain – the elder Miss Shaw.”
Beside him, Lord Stoneleigh let out a chuckle.
“You must be mistaken. A lady of that sort would not come here. Not unless she was… not unless she was my betrothed and much too overly curious!” He laughed again and rolled his eyes. “That is to say, not unless she was fiercely determined and quite sure of herself with regard to her competence and her own strength. If you do not mind me saying so, the elder Miss Shaw does not seem to embody those qualities.”
“I would agree with you,” James answered, his eyes still fixed on the door. “But all the same, I do not think that my eyes were deceived. I actually believe that it was the elder Miss Shaw who went through that door, just moments ago - but whatever can she be doing in the East End?”
“And what sort of place has she entered?”
Lord Stoneleigh cocked an eyebrow, but James was already striding forward, stuttering to a stop suddenly as the door opened again and the young lady in question stepped out. There was no doubting it this time. It was none other than Miss Tara Shaw hurrying out. Stopping just outside the door, she turned her head to glance first to her left and then to her right – and for a moment, her eyes caught his. There was no flash of recognition, no obvious awareness that he was someone she knew, but in that momentary glance, James caught the flash of fear lingering in her eyes. Starting forward again, Miss Shaw ignored him, tipping her head forward and pulling her shawl over her shoulders a little more tightly as she hurried away down the street. James followed her with his eyes, seeing her climb into a waiting cab, which swiftly pulled away.
“Good gracious!” Lord Stoneleigh shook his head. “Forgive me for my initial disbelief. You are quite correct.”
James moved forward, coming face to face with the door of the large building. It was weather-beaten, with splinters coming in all directions from the wood. Moving even closer still, he ran his fingers down it. His heart trembled and he sucked in air as a sudden memory returned to him. A memory of grabbing at the door, of pulling it open – and the pain in his fingers from where the wood had stabbed at him.
“I think I shall have to speak to Miss Shaw.”
There was a slight unevenness to his voice as he said the words, his heart beating furiously.
“Why would that be? Surely whatever business she has here is private.”
“Because I must ask her something.” Turning his head, James fixed his gaze on his friend. “I must ask her what she was doing at the very establishment where I lost my fortune.”
Chapter Six
Her heart in her throat, Tara hurried away from the house of ill repute, waving one hand to the driver of the cab who had brought her here in the first place. He had been reluctant to take a young lady such as herself, entirely alone, into this part of London, but she had insisted – but now that insistence mocked her. There had been nothing for her here, aside from lifted eyebrows and darted glances.
What am I going to do now?
She had no knowledge of the man who had brought her here, save for the fact that he had been a gentleman of her set, tall and threatening. Even Mary had been unable to tell her his name, despite the fact that she had been caught in a deep embrace with him. Her excuse had been that she had been so overwhelmed by his attentions that his name had somehow seemed of lesser importance. This place had been her only hope but, now, as she ought to have expected, everyone she had spoken to in that house now was denying the fact that she had ever been present there with him. The older woman with whom she had spoken had simply laughed and shaken her head when Tara had asked if she remembered her, despite the fact that she recalled seeing the woman standing by the door when Tara had been freed from her requirements. Much to Tara’s frustration, it was clear that remaining silent was in the woman’s best interests and so, she had pretended that she did not know Tara or the gentleman who had brought her. There was nothing that Tara could say or do which had made even the slightest difference to the lady’s mind.
“My pendant is gone.”
Mumbling to herself, Tara bit back a cry of disappointment, closing her eyes and setting her head back as she did so. The one thing she had been looking for, the one thing she had been desperate to find, was not going to return to her, it seemed. Perhaps it was part of her punishment for behaving so terribly. Perhaps she would always remember what she had done, every time she thought of her pendant, and be reminded of the shame she had brought upon herself… and to her mind, that lifelong sorrow and pain would be a fitting punishment
The rolling of the cab sent waves of nausea all through her and Tara suddenly waved one hand, the other hand going to her mouth. She thumped on the roof of the cab.
“Set me down at Hyde Park, if you please.”
After managing to shout over the noise of wheels on cobbled roads, Tara sank back and closed her eyes again, barely hearing the jarvey’s murmur of something indistinguishable - but which Tara hoped was an understanding and acceptance of her request. She suddenly was desperate to be free of the cab, desperate to walk alone through the park in the vague hope of dismissing some of these deeply unsettling feelings. Yes, she ought not to be alone, walking unchaperoned in the park, but given that she was mostly a chaperone herself now, and never particularly well noticed by others, Tara did not think that anyone would really care. In addition, given that she had just made her way to the East End entirely alone, it seemed of very little consequence if she was to walk back home without company. Her sister would, no doubt, still be entertaining various gentlemen who had come to call, with her two maids for company and, no doubt, Tara would hear everything about it later in the afternoon. Mayhap that would be an easy distraction from what she was enduring at present.
The cab stopped and Tara quickly climbed out, nausea still rolling through her stomach. Paying the driver quickly with her pin money, she murmured a word of thanks and then hurried away, dragging in gulps of fresh air, and relieved to be finally free from the stench of the East End. The burden of distress and guilt did not leave her as she walked through Hyde Park, her head down as she took slow steps forward. Instead, it only seemed to grow, leaving her in so much agony that she could not help but let out a strangled sob. Her head was low, and as always, no one paid her any particular attention.
Her steps quickened as her eyes filled with tears, her heart so heavy that she pressed one hand to her chest as though it might reduce the pain a little. Her vision blurred as she stumbled along the path, not really knowing where she was going any longer. Regret and shame poured through her again as she considered all that she had done. Yes, she had been protecting her sister, but in doing so, she had severely injured Lord Pottinger in a way that she knew full well could never be recovered from. It was a wound that would never heal.
A sudden cry broke from her lips as she stumbled, blinded by her tears, only for someone to reach out and capture her around the waist, setting her back carefully on her feet.
“Be careful, Miss Shaw.” Tara wrapped her arms about herself and stepped away from whoever it was that had caught her, suddenly afraid that her reputation would be quite ruined. Had someone seen her stepping out here alone and now sought to take advantage of her? “Miss Shaw?”
Dashing one hand over her eyes, but with her vision still blurred, Tara attempted to look up at the fellow standing in front of her, only for her breath to catch in her chest. Her eyes closed and she shook her head, anything she wanted to say dying upon her lips. This could not be! How was it that the gentleman she had only just been thinking of, the gentleman she was trying desperately to avoid, was now standing in front of her with a look of concern etched across his face.
He had his arms around me, at least for a moment.
