Sinful Deeds by Samantha Holt Read Free Book Online Page B

in a brisk manner and
had a—she squinted—Gladstone bag in his hand. Why did he look as though he was
on his way to perform important business? What business could Dante possibly
have here? She wasn’t at all sure he’d even held a bag before. After all, he
had servants to carry his luggage for him and business didn’t appeal to him one
bit.
    She
held her breath as he turned on his heel and began in her direction. Freezing,
she debated her options. Turn and scurry away? Stride past him? Wait until he
approached. To her astonishment, she didn’t have to do either. A well-dressed
gentleman stopped in front of him and greeted him with the tip of his hat
before motioning in the opposite direction of her—to the docks. Dante followed
him and Josephine had to stand on tiptoe to keep him in sight as he was
swallowed up in the crowds.
    What was he doing? Oh Lord, she hoped he was not up to something illicit. What if
she had driven him to do something foolish like prize-fighting or some sort of
gambling of the worst kind? For all his faults, Dante had always dabbled in the
most harmless of vices. A few drinks here, a couple of wagers there. Nothing
illegal or life-threatening.
    It was
no good. She would have to find out. Regardless of how she felt about him, she
needed to know he was safe.
    Stuffing
her purse into the folded pocket in her skirt, she hastened along. Her shoes
tapped on the stone while her heart picked up speed a little. Please don’t
be putting yourself in danger, she begged him. He wasn’t a foolish man nor
was he stupid, but he could be thoughtless. If he had made some reckless
arrangement, she had to put a stop to it.
    Visitors
and tourists in the area cluttered up the path, forcing her to hold her hat on
her head as she made her way past them to prevent it being knocked from her
head. She tried not to utter any words of frustration though some exceptionally
unladylike ones came to mind.
    Up
ahead, a blanket of fog appeared to be climbing up the tower bridge and coming
off the water. Morning fog in London was something she was well used to and she
knew soon it would reach the riverbank and then Dante would be lost to her. She
quickened her pace.
    By the
time she had made her way past the crowds, tall warehouse buildings rose up on
one side while ships, sometimes three deep, crowded the riverside. Several
barges chugged past, and she had to watch her step as ropes were coiled and
wound about the cobbled path. Goods were carried on and off the ships, forcing
her to stop or skirt around the men carrying them.
    But
Dante remained in view, following the gentleman until they paused in front of a
warehouse.
    Before
she could reach him, several men blocked her path. Her heart skipped into her
throat as she took note of their appearances. Scruffy, dirty, brutish sorts.
She’d been in London long enough to know that not every poor person intended
her harm, but she also recognised the glints in their eyes. She had once been
robbed at knifepoint a few years ago, and they had the same sort of air about
them. An air that said, we wants yer belongings, and we’re going to take
them—by whatever means necessary.
    Had she
been flexible enough, she may well have kicked herself. There she was, basking
in her independence, practically boasting to her friends how the area was not
nearly so bad and how it fed her artistic temperament and here she was being
approached by four men who certainly intended her harm.
    The
glint of a flick-knife made blood roar through her ears in great whooshing
pulses.
    “Give
us yer purse, miss,” the one with the knife said slowly while he approached.
    She
hated to do it, but she’d have to. “Dante! Help!” Josephine backed away until
the hard touch of the railings pressed against her.
    The men
spun when they heard footsteps approach. She tried not to grin in triumph when
Dante and the other gentleman ran up behind them. The men fled before they
reached them but the other man shouted