The Regency Season: Passionate Promises. Ann Lethbridge

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street by street. You do know Southwark is a hotbed of unsavoury types, do you not?’

      ‘Naturellement. But, then, I have you to protect me.’

      His jaw flexed, his expression became thoughtful. ‘So you do.’

       Chapter Four

      The drive to London Bridge remained starkly silent, with Freddy apparently too engrossed in managing his team in the press of traffic for conversation. Or too annoyed with her prevarication. Not that the streets were quiet. Indeed, they bustled with people and carriages, assaulting hearing, sight and each indrawn breath. The cacophony of colour, noise and smells became more intense as they drove east. A stench of manure, rotting vegetables and overcrowding battled with the noise of street vendors and vehicles of every kind.

      It took more than an hour to reach London Bridge and make their way to Southwark.

      ‘Now where?’ he asked, with his usual chilly reserve and an expression she was sure was designed to keep her at a distance. Her and the rest of the world.

      ‘Aren’t you going to ask for the address?’

      ‘I have no doubt you will tell me when you are ready. I have no doubt that it will be located among the worst of the slums. You have a penchant for going where no lady should tread.’

      A jibe at her presence at his club. So there was to be no quarter given between them. Not that she had really expected it. Not when he still thought she had trapped him on purpose. She almost wished she had, then she wouldn’t feel quite so aggrieved, since she could not deny that this engagement suited her purpose admirably. But his anger and distrust gave her a miserable feeling. They had never been friends, but now they were going to have to spend a great deal of time in each other’s company, and it would be better if they could at least be cordial.

      ‘The house we seek lies behind St George’s Church,’ she said.

      His mouth tightened but he continued along Borough High Street. As they proceeded, the buildings on either side of the street became meaner and the road muddy and ill maintained.

      ‘When we arrive, let me do the talking,’ she said.

      ‘So I am to remain silent and pay the bill.’ He sounded less than pleased.

      She turned in her seat the better to see his face. ‘This family has not been well treated since their arrival in England. They are bourgeoisie. They gave up much to follow the king and feel they have been abandoned.’ There were a goodly number of French families living in Southwark who were scratching out the most meagre of livings in the worst of circumstances. ‘They no longer trust the English to treat them right.’

      ‘And you think they will trust you?’

      She gripped her hands in her lap. ‘I don’t know. I do know they want their king back in France so they can return home. If they believe this will help, then perhaps, yes.’

      ‘Very well, I’ll remain silent. As long as you don’t promise them the moon.’

      It was a warning he would not let her make promises he could not keep. Fair enough.

      ‘Turn onto Mint Street.’

      ‘You may as well give me the address,’ he said, throwing her a glance of suppressed anger.

      He was right to be angry. She could not continue to treat him as if she didn’t trust him, even if good sense advised caution. She needed his help. ‘Well’s Court. They are expecting us.’

      ‘How do you know people living in Well’s Court?’

      She winced at his harsh tone. ‘Through my maid, who I found by talking to the parish priest. We émigrés help our own whenever possible.’

      He halted at the entrance to a small alley. He glanced up at the surrounding buildings and around at the loiterers in the street. He gestured at one of them who lounged over to them. ‘M’sieur?’

      He tossed the man a silver coin. ‘Mind the horses. There’s another for you when we return.’

      The man’s eyes brightened. He touched his forelock and went to the horses’ heads.

      ‘Will they be safe?’ she asked.

      ‘It’s a little late to be thinking of that.’

      * * *

      Freddy guided Minette through the narrow entrance to the court, surreptitiously checking the small pistol he had tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. He also had a dagger in his boot. Barker, who had been instructed to follow them, would be somewhere nearby. He doubted all these precautions would be needed—it was, after all, broad daylight—but it didn’t pay to take chances. Not if he wanted to survive. The contrast between the wealth of Mayfair and the poverty of this area was a stark reminder of the desperation of some of London’s people. He placed his hand in the small of her back, ensuring that anyone watching would know he took her safety seriously.

      A pang of guilt twisted in his gut. Minette thought she was in control. In the not-too-distant future she was going to discover he had no intention of involving her in the capture of Moreau. If Gabe knew he’d gone this far, bringing her to such a dangerous part of town, he’d be stringing Freddy up by his thumbs. No, after today, she would discover herself on the sidelines. He would not let her put herself in danger.

      A small, ragged boy sitting on a step in front of one of the tenements leapt to his feet the moment they set foot in the courtyard at the end of the alley. He approached warily.

      ‘You are here for Madame Vitesse?’ His English was carefully spoken. Not the accent of the local people, but that of a well-tutored boy.

      ‘We are,’ Minette replied.

      ‘Follow me, if you please.’ The boy led them into the building and up a set of rickety stairs to the third floor. On the landing he opened one of several doors. He reverted to his mother tongue as he spoke to the occupant. ‘Maman, they are here.’

      A woman of about thirty with hard eyes and a careworn face appeared in the doorway. The look she gave Freddy reminded him of an animal preparing to defend its young, then she turned her attention to Minette. ‘You are Christine’s mistress?’

      ‘I am.’

      ‘This is your fiancé? The Duke?’

      ‘I am,’ Freddy said.

      ‘Come in. We will discuss the matter between us.’

      They sat down on a pair of rickety wooden chairs, while their hostess took a stool. She glanced up at the boy. ‘See we are not disturbed.’

      The boy closed the door, shutting himself outside.

      ‘Christine said you might be able to help us in our search for a certain man,’ Minette said.

      ‘For a price,’ the woman said.

      ‘How much?’ Freddy asked. ‘And

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