in this place. And he thought of the scent of soap and grilled chops and warm woman.
He thought of the teasing intelligence in her eyes and the warmth of her smile.
He thought of the passion between them and the sense that she made his world seem a better place.
He thought of what might have been, then he let the thoughts go and he crushed the feelings. Emma de Lisle had not waited. And that was that.
Ned was not a man who allowed himself to be influenced by emotion. He had his destiny. And maybe it was better this way. No distractions, after all.
He heard the cry of the watch in the distance. Only then did he make his way back across town to the mansion house in Cavendish Square.
* * *
Along the Westminster Bridge Road in Lambeth, the evening was fine and warm as Emma and the Dowager Lady Lamerton approached Astley’s Amphitheatre.
‘I say, this is really rather exciting,’ her new employer said as they abandoned the carriage to the traffic jam in which it was caught and walked the remaining small distance to the amphitheatre’s entrance.
‘It is, indeed.’ It was only Emma’s third day returned to life in London’s high society, albeit at a somewhat lesser level to that she had known, and already she was aware that there was a part of her that had settled so smoothly it was as if she had never been away—and a part that remained in Whitechapel, with her father...and another man.
She wondered again how her father was managing in his new lodging. Wondered if he was eating. Wondered if Ned Stratham had returned to the Red Lion yet and if Paulette had passed on her message.
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