The Fighter and the Fallen Woman by Pamela Cayne Read Free Book Online

parlor, and decorated purely as such, but to Lady the room was more about the memories made here than the porcelain statues filling the curio cabinet in the corner.
    She and Nessie had spent many hours in this room, sewing quilts out of old dresses and sheets. The first had been from boredom while they were snowed in for almost two weeks, and after that, they found it a pleasant way to pass time. Every now and then, Lady even lost herself in the fantasy that she was a regular lady presiding over her own house, quilting while her husband was at work and her children were at school. But it never lasted longer than the length of thread she was sewing before it snapped, just like the thread.
    While she was getting the thimbles from the sewing basket, Lady’s mind bounced back to King and her task for tomorrow. She could still feel the touch of King’s lips, even after Mr. Adams. She needed to repair the crack in her armor, smooth it over so he couldn’t see inside, so that touch of warmth could no longer seep under her skin.
    Yes, she could do that. She had to.
    “Ooh, what’s with the long face?” Nessie had two cups and a teapot on a lacquered tray. “Don’t be telling me the thread has snarled again.”
    “No, no—it’s fine.” Lady smiled brightly and started laying out spools with their needles. “Woolgathering, I suppose.”
    “Well, tell the sheep to leave you alone. Or drown them with this.” Nessie handed Lady a teacup and filled it from the pot. She got settled with a cup for herself and took a sip. “By the by, I meant to ask you if Mr. Adams got a new man?”
    “Hmm, no, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
    “When I was sweeping out the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, I noticed a man standing out back, across the alleyway. He was watching the house real close. Reminded me of how Shade first stood out there, but this fellow wasn’t like Shade.”
    Lady set her teacup down. A rising panic was threatening to bring her tea back up. Mr. Adams hadn’t said anything, but he wouldn’t necessarily. Was he trying to set her up, making her tend to King while somebody new watched her home? “What does he look like? And why doesn’t he seem like Shade?”
    “He’s a regular-sized bloke, maybe a bit smaller, but his hair looks white, sticking up all over. And usually Mr. Adams’s men look all dour and grumpy. This one’s standing there smiling like he’s just been made a duke.”
    “White hair? Does he have a real sharp face?”
    “Yes, that sounds like him. So, Mr. Adams got somebody new?”
    “No, that’s not Mr. Adams’s man. That’s Jonathan.” In addition to Mr. Adams and King to worry about, she now had Mr. Collins making a bold move, bolder possibly than what she could control. It made going to King’s tomorrow suddenly seem much easier than it had a few minutes ago.

Chapter Four
    She had to go visit King today. However, after a night spent twitching out of her skin at the thought of Jonathan watching her house, and her eyes stinging from the rawness of staring at the ceiling all night, replaying every second of being with King over and over, she could plead illness and not go. She could stay safe in her bed, tucked under that first blue and yellow quilt she and Nessie had stitched, and read dime novels. The midday sun could fall to dusk and she wouldn’t have to worry about possibly seeing Jonathan on her trek or definitely seeing King in his rooms, all alone and nothing between them but the memory of one sweet kiss. Until another night passed the same as the one before and the next day broke with Lady doing nothing. Then she’d have to go or tell Mr. Adams why not. She had to go today.
    An hour later she was dressed and restored by a cup of tea heavily laced with sugar and cream. As befitted her station as mistress of one of the most powerful men of the East End, Lady wore her new sateen dress of lush red roses on a fawn-colored background, complete with Irish lace collar