drunk clutching a gin bottle. Her robbery had already been forgotten, replaced by the fresh scandal of a skinny ragamuffin caught stealing a gentleman's purse.
She wandered the streets, wondering how the city could have grown so much smaller and danker while she was away. Horse-drawn vehicles thronged the roadway, churning the snow into black slush. No one took any notice of her. She was just one of a sea of faces in this vast slum.
Before she realized it, she'd turned down a finer street with freshly salted cobblestones and broad sidewalks flanked by shops. Gas lamps flickered in shop windows, illuminating shining displays of goods nestled in fresh boughs of pine and holly. She paused at the window of a toy shop to watch a mechanical St. Nicholas beat a tiny green drum.
As she turned away, she came face-to-face with her own image tacked to a lamppost. A sigh caught in
her throat. Was this one photograph to haunt her forever? She pulled down the notice, her hands trembling more in shock than cold. The sketch was a very good one, obviously done by a professional from her father's old tintype. Her eyes widened at the staggering amount of the reward. She hadn't a halfpenny to her name and she was worth more than any notorious criminal stalking the London alleys.
Two words seemed to leap out of the elaborate script-
LOST CHILD.
She leaned her forehead against the cold lamppost, no longer able to fight the despair. More lost than Justin could ever know, she thought. Her hatred for him had sustained her for years. Now that it was gone, she felt nothing. Nothing at all but a desperate yearning for warmth. He had shed his sunlight
across her soul, then slammed the door, leaving her cold and alone. Would he return to New Zealand, seeking the woman he had known only as Emily Scarlet? By taking the coward's way out, she would never have to know if he didn't.
"Move along, girlie. We don't need your kind scaring the customers away." A fat shopkeeper shooed at her with his apron.
Emily gave him such an evil look that he began to bellow for a constable. She broke into a run, feeling
as if she might run forever and never get anywhere. She had no intention of trading one kind of cell for another, although the jail might be warmer than the park had been last night. Dusk was nearing and the temperature was plunging rapidly. Warm tears blurred her vision.
She never saw the soft, immovable object in her path until she slammed into it. She went sprawling.
A torrent of packages rained down on her head.
She glared upward, rubbing her brow and preparing to unleash a string of curses on the hapless shopper.
"Gor blimey, if it ain't Emily Claire Scarborough, as I live an' breathe!"
"Tansy?" Emily whispered in awe. She clambered to her feet, shoving boxes off her lap.
Surely this statuesque creature could not be her Tansy. A feathered hat perched jauntily on her nest of ebony curls. A dress of yellow satin sculpted her ample curves in scandalous relief, then tapered to scalloped ruffles piled high over a bustle. But surely no one else could possess eyes as big and blue as Dresden saucers.
"Tansy?" she repeated, her voice rising to a squeak.
"Oh, Em!"
All of her doubts flew away as Tansy threw her arms around her, enveloping her in a perfumed embrace. Time melted and suddenly they were just two frightened little girls clinging to each other in a lonely attic.
Emily drew back, still clutching Tansy's arms, loath to relinquish her familiar warmth. "What happened
to you? Did you inherit a fortune? Rob a bank? Finally snare a rich gentleman for a husband?"
Tansy cocked her head, preening with guileless abandon. "Not yet, but I might very soon. I'm workin'
fer Mrs. Rose now."
Emily frowned as the name struck a discordant note in her memory. "Mrs. Rose? She must pay you
very well indeed. Are you her personal maid?"
"She don't pay me at all. It's 'er gentlemen callers that pays me."
Emily felt her mouth fall open in shock. Tansy gently pushed her chin up with the tip of her finger. Her ringer was now smooth without a hint of a callus.
Emily swallowed hard. "You're working at a bordello?"
"That I am. Most of the gentlemen are very kind with gentle hands an' open purses. They luvs me, they do. They all tell me so. I'm one o' their favorites."
"I don't understand. What happened to Miss Winters?"
Tansy's full lips tightened in a pout. "She tossed me out, she did, after yer guardian plucked 'er nerves. Ya should 'ave been there. 'E tore into the old 'ag right and proper."
Emily's throat tightened. "You saw him?"
"Lordy, did I! And ain't 'e the prettiest fellow I ever did see!"
"Yes," Emily admitted softly. "He is that."
"Some of my gentlemen friends say 'e's rough and dangerous like, but I knows better. Gave me money,
'e did. Told me if I ever needed 'elp to march straight to Grymwilde Mansion in Portland Square an' ask for 'im. If I 'adn't been set on provin' I could stand on me own two feet, I might 'ave done it, too."
For a dazed moment Emily's pain was so intense she couldn't see straight. She barely felt Tansy's gentle touch on her arm.
"Where've ya been, girl? Why'd ya go and run off like that without tellin' me?"
"I didn't run off. Barney and Doreen carted me off on some mad scheme of Miss Winters's."
Tansy's full lips tightened. "I knew them bloomin' buggers was up to no good. I shoulda told that nice gentleman when 'e came lookin' fer ya. 'Ed ave cooked both their skinny gooses."
"No!" Besieged by sudden panic, Emily gripped her arm. "You must swear to me that if your paths should cross again, you won't tell him you saw me. He mustn't know I'm in London."
"What is it, Em? Are ya in some sort of trouble? 'E's a good man. I know 'e'd lend a 'elpin' 'and if ya'd
let 'im."
Emily pressed her eyes shut, trying to banish the memory of Justin's graceful tan hands against her skin. When she opened them, they burned like raw flames. "He can't help me now. I've done something terrible. And if he finds out, he'll despise me forever."
"Come now, dearie. What could be that terrible?"
Falling in love with Justin. Making him fall in love with her while lying to him with every breath. Emily just shook her head, unable to choke a reply past the icy lump in her throat.
Tansy's blue eyes were painfully earnest. "Why don't ya come with me, then? Mrs. Rose'd be glad to
'ave ya and those fine gentlemen would gobble a pretty thing like you right up! You'd be able to earn yer own money right and proper with good honest work. You'd never 'ave to rely on anyone's charity again."
Emily almost shivered to hear her own thoughts echoed so clearly. For one shocking instant she was tempted. But the thought of a stranger's hands touching her the way Justin's had filled her with revulsion.
"I'm sorry, Tansy. I'm glad you're happy, but I simply can't."
They faced each other, awkward again, strangers on a busy street. The passing shoppers stared curiously. Emily caught a glimpse of her reflection in a darkened shop window-a small figure in a shabby black dress, torn stockings, and ragged shawl. Her bare fingers poked out the ends of her gloves. How dare she accost a fine lady on the street?