The Dollar Prince's Wife by Paula Marshall

morning, who always put her own drab outfit to shame?
    Was the dream trying to tell her something? If you took what he said at face value he was simply saying that she had been mistaken in him, and his meaningless kindness. What else could he possibly mean?
    The puzzle was too much for her. She lay down and tried to sleep, and then she sat up again, her heart thumping. Suppose she dreamed of him again?
    The thought didn’t prevent her from sleeping. When she did her dreams, if she had any, faded with the morning, as so many dreams do, except for the one which she had had of him offering her help and comfort.
    It remained as clear and bright as though she had walked out of Moorings and turned a corner to find him there, a smile on his face, waiting for her.

Chapter Five
    I f Dinah Freville haunted Cobie, then the child he had rescued from Madame Louise’s haunted him, too. That, and the decision he had made at Moorings before he had left. Those who used Madame Louise’s deserved to be punished as well. Only then could he decide what to do about Dinah.
    He decided to visit Lizzie Steele at her new home, claiming to be a relative of hers. He arrived in the late evening, wearing an ill-cut suit, a cloth cap, and heavy laced-up boots. Mrs Hedges, Lizzie’s guardian, the wife of the Superintendent Bristow had appointed to run the refuge Cobie had paid for, stared at him when he told her that he was Uncle Jack, Lizzie’s mother’s brother. She said doubtfully, ‘She’s never spoken of you.’
    â€˜She wouldn’t, I’m the black sheep, ain’t I.’ He was so busy imitating Lizzie’s own broad cockney that he missed her appearing suddenly at the bottom of the stairs. She was spotlessly clean. Her dark hair was screwed back from her face, and she looked quite unlike the waif he had rescued.
    â€˜Here’s your Uncle Jack come to see you.’
    â€˜Uncle Jack?’ Lizzie was doubtful, until she saw him. Her face suddenly broke into a broad grin. Before she couldbegin to speak and perhaps give him away, he said rapidly, ‘Come on, our Lizzie. Remember old Jack, don’t you?’
    Lizzie was no fool. Life had taught her to dissemble. If well-spoken, flash Mr Dilley chose to look and speak like any masher who walked London’s East End, that was his business. He had done Lizzie a good turn, and she wasn’t going to let him down.
    â€˜Thought as how I’d come and see how you was doin’. Happy, are you?’
    â€˜Very happy,’ she told him. ‘Ain’t you goin’ to come in? Mrs Hedges’d give you some tea, I’m sure.’
    â€˜Haven’t time,’ he told her. ‘Jus’ came to see that you were happy and well. That stepdad not bothering you?’
    Lizzie shook her head and put out a hand to touch his timidly. ‘You’ll come and see me again, I hope.’
    â€˜When I can,’ he said. ‘I’ve been away.’
    He carried the memory of her face away with him. Also with him was her likeness to Dinah in the early days of their friendship when her face had lit up every time she saw him. He wondered where she was, and what that bitch, her sister Violet, was doing to her now. He had no real hope that she would stop persecuting Dinah once he was not there to see that she kept her worthless word.
    He swore to himself, and carried on walking to his next rendezvous, which was with a possibly corrupt copper from Scotland Yard whom an enquiry agent had found for him. He had asked that a meeting be arranged, and the agent had set one up at a pub called the Jolly Watermen, which stood, not surprisingly, near to the Thames.
    It was small, dark and full. His man was waiting for him in a corner seat, a glass of whisky before him. He was wearing a brown Derby hat and a crimson tie; a copy of the Morning Post lay on the table beside the whiskey—allthere to identify him to Cobie. Cobie was now wearing a tartan