Blessing by Lyn Cote Read Free Book Online

recollections of thestranger who’d eyed him with such hostility. The unsettled feeling rose within, but he dismissed it.

    Later that evening Blessing climbed down from her town carriage. Night was one of her busiest times. Gerard Ramsay crossed her thoughts, engendering so many varied feelings. But she couldn’t deal with them right now.
    Judson, her driver, stood nearby. His dark, wrinkled face was barely visible in the night. “Miss Blessin’, I gon’ stay right here and wait for you. You call out if you need me.” He said this every night at the docks, always wanting to protect her.
    Her mind drifted back to the previous hours at the Fosters’ and, before she could forestall herself, to Gerard Ramsay. A very handsome and disturbing man. He doesn’t like me, and I shouldn’t care.
    A passerby jostled her, and she immediately checked her pocket for her small purse. Nothing gone. Pickpockets and purse cutters abounded on the wharf. She brushed Gerard Ramsay out of her mind and turned, only to nearly bump into Mr. Smith.
    Her breath caught in her throat, and she hoped it didn’t show. Mr. Smith liked to catch her by surprise, upset her if he could. She knew she stuck in his craw. “Good evening,” she said, making her voice cool and unruffled in complete contrast to the latent anger he always managed to inflame within her.
    “If it isn’t the widow Brightman, out doing good among the poor sinners,” he replied, his voice shaded with a sneer but so subtle that to rise to it would put her in the wrong.
    She attempted to smile, but a scene from the past glimmered within—Richard, sobbing with regret the morning after a night’s binge in this man’s company. The pain of that memory clutched at her. “May I help thee?”
    “Help me to where or what? Perdition?” he mocked her.
    She gazed at him wordlessly. Smith regularly sought her out and taunted her. This man had done her great harm through her husband, and she still struggled to forgive him. It was hard to forgive a man who was always busy enticing others down the path to destruction.
    “As much as I’d like to stay and chat, ma’am, this is my time to do business.” He bowed his head and walked off, whistling. Smith’s so-called bodyguard—the man who beat others at his orders—followed behind like a faithful dog.
    In Smith’s wake, Blessing tried to loosen her tension by drawing breaths of increasing depth.
    Then one of the night watches who patrolled the wharf to keep order approached her. He’d been standing in the shadows, no doubt waiting for Smith to leave. No one wanted Smith’s attention. Blessing and Richard had found that out the hard way.
    “Mrs. Brightman,” he greeted her respectfully.
    In definite contrast to Smith. Irritated with herself for letting the man get under her skin yet again, she smiled at the tall young man in uniform. “Good evening.”
    “One of the women asked me about you and your work with orphans. She has a child that needs a home.”
    Another illegitimate child nobody wanted, another life she might save. As usual, Blessing simultaneously experienceda lift of thanks and a pang of regret. “Thank thee. Where is the child?”
    “I’ll take you there, ma’am.”
    She nodded her gratitude and walked beside him to one of the many brothels on the quay. A line of men waited at the door. At the sight of her, they melted into the darker shadows.
    “I’ll be near if you need me,” the night watch said. “Her name’s Ducky Hughes. You’ll find her on the landing, third door.”
    Blessing touched his arm and then walked through the open door and scaled with caution the slanting staircase by the light of a few candles in glass wall sconces. At the stench of filth, she resisted the urge to cover her nose with her scented handkerchief. She tapped on the third door.
    It opened with caution. “Yeah?”
    “I’m looking for Ducky Hughes.”
    “Who’s asking for . . . Ducky?”
    “I’m Blessing