Cater Street Hangman by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online

dashing angle. She was looking at Ashworth.
    “Good morning, my lord,” she said with a faintly mocking air.
    Ashworth looked through her for a long, chill moment, then turned slightly in the saddle to face Emily.
    “You were telling me, Miss Ellison, about your aunt’s visit to Yorkshire. It must be most pleasant country, from your account. Do you go frequently yourself?”
    It was an astounding piece of rudeness. It had been at least a quarter of an hour since Emily had mentioned Yorkshire, and the woman quite plainly knew him. Emily was too astonished to speak.
    “ . . . although I’m surprised she found early spring a comfortable time of the year to visit so far north,” he went on, still keeping his back to the Row.
    Emily stared at him. The woman’s face twisted in a small grimace, a touch of bitter amusement in it. Then she touched her horse with her crop and moved on.
    “She was speaking to you!” Emily said boldly.
    “My dear Emily,” Ashworth’s mouth curved downward slightly, “a gentleman does not reply to every harlot who importunes him,” he said with a hint of condescension. “Most especially in such a public place as this. And certainly not if he happens to be in the company of ladies at the time.”
    “Harlot?” Emily stammered. “But she was—she was dressed—I mean—”
    “There is every degree of harlot, just as there is every degree of just about everything else! The more expensive they are, the more elite their custom, the less they look like it, that’s all. You must learn to be a little less simple!”
    The thought flashed through her mind, but she forbore from asking him how he knew the woman’s occupation. Obviously there was an entire world about which she had much yet to learn, if she were to thread her way through it successfully, and reach the prize she intended.
    “Perhaps you will be good enough to teach me?” she said, with a smile that she hoped hid more than it revealed. Let him read into it what he wished. “It is an area in which I am totally unacquainted.”
    He gave her a hard look for a moment or two, then broke into a broad smile. He had extraordinarily fine teeth. Emily made up her mind right then that she would exert her utmost effort to end up as Lady Ashworth—regardless of—certain disadvantages. They would have to be dealt with in due course, but she had no doubt she would be equal to them.
    “I’m not sure, Emily, if you are quite as mellow as you seem.” He was still looking at her.
    She affected total innocence and met his eyes with a charming smile. She considered inviting him to know her better and decided against it. It was too forward, and anyway, she was quite sure he intended to anyway.
    It was the second week in June when George Ashworth actually came to the Ellison house to call. Naturally it had been planned, planned most meticulously. Even Caroline tried unsuccessfully to hide a certain bubble of excitement.
    At quarter to four they were all sitting in the withdrawing room, the sun shining in across the floor, the first roses blooming outside. Lord Ashworth and Mr. and Miss Decker were expected at any moment. Sarah sat rather primly on the piano stool, playing something nondescript; Emily was sufficiently practiced herself to know she was playing it badly. Emily was singing inside with anticipation. Caroline sat in the best hardbacked chair, as if already preparing to pour the tea which was not yet served. Charlotte alone seemed unaffected. But then, of course, Charlotte never had had the sense to know what was important.
    Emily herself was very composed. She had already done everything she could to prepare; all that remained now was to play each phrase, each glance, as it came.
    They arrived precisely on time, and were shown in with a flurry of introductions. They all sat down and began the usual ritual of small talk. Only George Ashworth looked totally comfortable.
    A giggling and rather flushed Dora brought in their tea: all Mrs.