endings. Pleasure suffused me at the sound of his velvet-wrapped voice, at his spice-tinged nearness. Inhaling sharply, I tore my eyes away. 'Tis just his dashed peculiar sense of humor , I chastised myself. Do not be taken in by the devil's charm. Aiming my gaze out the window, I resolved to keep it there for the remainder of the trip.
Sometime during the ride I must have fallen asleep, however, for I awoke to a strange landscape. There were no verdant fields here, or friendly tumble-down cottages. Instead, an enormous black specter filled the sky; like a shroud, it hung over the city, obscuring humanity from view. All I could see was a ghostly topography of tall, jutting edges, of shifting shadows and smoke. Shivering in my thin cloak, I peeped over at Hux. He appeared lost in his thoughts and paid no attention as we plunged into the hellish haze.
As we penetrated the city, I saw the source of the fog. 'Twas not inhuman in origin, but quite the opposite: the product of man's progress. Fields upon fields of smoking chimneys choked the skyline. Burning coal stung my nostrils, its sooty aftermath coating my lungs. All around us, the streets swarmed with industry. People and conveyances vied for space. Everyone shouted in London, it seemed. The buildings of brick and wood huddled close together, leaning inward over the narrow, crooked streets.
After travelling through a maze of activity and noise, we turned onto a street lined with elegant shops. Everything became muffled here, insulated by obvious prosperity. Well-dressed ladies and their escorts ambled along the wide walks, and there was even an elm or two to provide a graceful canopy on a sunny day. I wondered where we were.
"Bond Street," the earl said, without turning his head.
Even I had heard of this enclave of exclusive boutiques. 'Twas where the upper classes came to gambol—and certainly no place for one such as me. With a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, I began to recite arguments in my head. As it turned out, I did not need them. Not at our intended stop, anyway. My employer swore when he saw the boarded up door to the charming brick house.
"I suppose we should head back then, my lord?" I tried not to sound too cheerful. "In truth, this place is too fine for the likes for me. I shouldn't feel comfortable—"
He cut me off with a speaking look and issued a terse command to the driver. Nothing stopped his lordship for long. Less than ten minutes later, we arrived at a second destination. I was relieved to see that we had departed the haughty stretch of Bond Street for a well-maintained but more modest neighborhood. Nonetheless, as the carriage slowed to a stop, I tried once again to dissuade him.
"Perhaps the earlier shop being closed was a sign, my lord," I said. "Truly, I have no need of—"
"Nonsense," he replied with an irritable glance in my direction. "'Twas no sign but that of Madame du Bois' ill-managed business practices. From what she charges, she ought to be flush in the account rather than hiding from creditors. But there are plenty of fish in the fashionable sea. Ah, excellent." Grim satisfaction entered his voice. "Mrs. Cunningham is still here, and she's nothing if not discreet."
I looked at the shop. There was no doubt of its elegance, even from the outside. But something about it stirred a sense of disquiet. From beneath the scarlet awnings, two windows stared out like vacant eyes. The poppies in the window boxes ought to have been cheerful; instead, their heads splashed like blood against the whitewashed front.
"Please, Hux, let us not stop here," I whispered.
His mouth twitched at my desperate use of his name, but he gave no other indication that he had heard me. He handed me down and steered me forward. Opening the glossy red door, he said, "In you go, my girl."
Though the day was bright, little light slipped inside the shop. The front parlor was dark and hushed. My sturdy heels sunk into the mossy carpet as I stood there,
Sometime during the ride I must have fallen asleep, however, for I awoke to a strange landscape. There were no verdant fields here, or friendly tumble-down cottages. Instead, an enormous black specter filled the sky; like a shroud, it hung over the city, obscuring humanity from view. All I could see was a ghostly topography of tall, jutting edges, of shifting shadows and smoke. Shivering in my thin cloak, I peeped over at Hux. He appeared lost in his thoughts and paid no attention as we plunged into the hellish haze.
As we penetrated the city, I saw the source of the fog. 'Twas not inhuman in origin, but quite the opposite: the product of man's progress. Fields upon fields of smoking chimneys choked the skyline. Burning coal stung my nostrils, its sooty aftermath coating my lungs. All around us, the streets swarmed with industry. People and conveyances vied for space. Everyone shouted in London, it seemed. The buildings of brick and wood huddled close together, leaning inward over the narrow, crooked streets.
After travelling through a maze of activity and noise, we turned onto a street lined with elegant shops. Everything became muffled here, insulated by obvious prosperity. Well-dressed ladies and their escorts ambled along the wide walks, and there was even an elm or two to provide a graceful canopy on a sunny day. I wondered where we were.
"Bond Street," the earl said, without turning his head.
Even I had heard of this enclave of exclusive boutiques. 'Twas where the upper classes came to gambol—and certainly no place for one such as me. With a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, I began to recite arguments in my head. As it turned out, I did not need them. Not at our intended stop, anyway. My employer swore when he saw the boarded up door to the charming brick house.
"I suppose we should head back then, my lord?" I tried not to sound too cheerful. "In truth, this place is too fine for the likes for me. I shouldn't feel comfortable—"
He cut me off with a speaking look and issued a terse command to the driver. Nothing stopped his lordship for long. Less than ten minutes later, we arrived at a second destination. I was relieved to see that we had departed the haughty stretch of Bond Street for a well-maintained but more modest neighborhood. Nonetheless, as the carriage slowed to a stop, I tried once again to dissuade him.
"Perhaps the earlier shop being closed was a sign, my lord," I said. "Truly, I have no need of—"
"Nonsense," he replied with an irritable glance in my direction. "'Twas no sign but that of Madame du Bois' ill-managed business practices. From what she charges, she ought to be flush in the account rather than hiding from creditors. But there are plenty of fish in the fashionable sea. Ah, excellent." Grim satisfaction entered his voice. "Mrs. Cunningham is still here, and she's nothing if not discreet."
I looked at the shop. There was no doubt of its elegance, even from the outside. But something about it stirred a sense of disquiet. From beneath the scarlet awnings, two windows stared out like vacant eyes. The poppies in the window boxes ought to have been cheerful; instead, their heads splashed like blood against the whitewashed front.
"Please, Hux, let us not stop here," I whispered.
His mouth twitched at my desperate use of his name, but he gave no other indication that he had heard me. He handed me down and steered me forward. Opening the glossy red door, he said, "In you go, my girl."
Though the day was bright, little light slipped inside the shop. The front parlor was dark and hushed. My sturdy heels sunk into the mossy carpet as I stood there,
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