My Runaway Heart by Miriam Minger Read Free Book Online

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please a strappin ' gentl'man like yourself."
    Lindsay's eyes grew round at the stylishly dressed beauty
posed beneath a streetlamp, several other unaccompanied young women casting
admiring glances at Jared as they tittered at their friend's brazen remarks.
    "Was she—did she call me a mouse?"
    "Pay no mind. They're women of the night."
    "I know what they are," Lindsay said stiffly, not noticing the look of surprise in
Jared's eyes. Affronted not because of their carnal profession, but because the
lovely redhead had spoken so rudely about her, Lindsay watched the woman
saunter toward a bearded gentleman signaling to her from a parked carriage. The
two exchanged brief words; then the woman spun around with a bold laugh and
called after Jared.
    "Too late, luv . Come 'round
tomorrow night and I'll be sure to save you a good bit o' my time!"
    Then she was gone, disappearing with a swish of bright
green silk into the carriage, which set off at a noisy rumble down the street.
Sighing, Lindsay glanced up to find a deep frown on Jared's face.
    "Oh, dear, please don't be angry for my sake—it
was no large insult. I don't know why I allowed her to upset me. It's charity I should be feeling; Corie taught me that. Charity and compassion. She saved several girls in Porthleven from such a life—found them good, honest work,
and one even a husband."
    "Sounds like a saint."
    "Funny, that's exactly what I said after Corie described the man of her—well, the sort of man she
hoped one day to marry, though I told her he sounded dull as well. Mind you, Corie isn't dull, oh, no, and I wouldn't call her a saint,
either, not with that temper. But she has a heart of gold—I'm sure you'll like
her when you meet, though right now she and her husband are—"
    "So your friend has married."
    "Oh, yes, shortly after I arrived in London. And
it's the most incredible story—oh, look! There's a sign for Tom's Cellar up
ahead. Is that the place?"
    Jared gave a brusque nod, still disgruntled that
Lindsay hadn't seemed shocked at all by the loose women plying their trade on
the street, a bawdy sight he had hoped might send her scurrying back to their
carriage to demand immediate escort home.
    It was clear that the freedom she had enjoyed in
Cornwall had perhaps gained her a wider view of the world than other young
women of her station shared, and her saintly friend Corisande had obviously helped things along. Yet Tom's, well, that was another matter.
    "Don't forget about your hood," he reminded
her, the sound of raucous singing growing louder as they approached a rather
nondescript brick building at one side of which was an archway leading down a
flank of stone steps. He found some comfort that the entrance stank of cider
and urine, but if Lindsay had noticed, she gave no note of it, her eyes wide
with curiosity.
    "Tom's is down there?"
    Again he nodded, the breathless excitement in her voice
suddenly making him want to shake her. Did the chit imagine they were about to
come upon some regal ballroom? A fashionable coffeehouse? Couldn't she see the
dinginess all around them?
    Almost angrily, he drew her down the damp steps,
holding her arm firmly so she wouldn't slip. Dank moist air clouded with
tobacco smoke enveloped them, hazy light spilling from a half-opened door at
the bottom of the stairs. The singing had grown so boisterous that he couldn't
have heard anything Lindsay said unless she shouted.
    And she was trying to get his attention, raising her
voice to ask him what manner of place was Tom's even as she was drawn into a
long, low-ceilinged room that was clearly a cellar, just as the painted sign
outside had read. But her words were drowned out by the noise— truly, the cacophony couldn't be described as anything but
noise—of more than a hundred men's voices raised in singsong, the barking of
dogs and a constant outcry for refills of cider and ale.
    She blinked, dense whorls of smoke making her eyes
tear, and saw that women moved freely among