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“Evening,” she said, in a singsong voice. Her eyes travelled over the group. “Well, well, well. Aren’t we honored to have such fine company on this lonely street? You are all a long way from home, I think. Can I entertain you?” Her eyes flickered. “One, or two, or even the lady, as well. I ain’t fussy, as long as your coin is good.”
“We are not here for that,” said Lord Reynolds, looking embarrassed, as he glanced at Patricia. “We are looking for another gentleman. Tall, dark haired, with a scarred face. Have you seen him?”
The woman contemplated the question. “I ain’t seen no other toffs walking this street tonight. Sorry.”
“Have you been…trading here long?” asked Lord Reading.
The woman grinned. “Every evening for the past year, I reckon. I’m Sweet Annie; if you’re ever in this area again, ask for me by name. But I only just got here. I have other streets I walk before I get to this one. It can be a bit cutthroat for a woman trading alone. I choose well, if you know what I mean.”
Lord Reynolds cleared his throat. “Indeed. Well, thank you for your time.”
“I hope you stay safe,” said Patricia quickly, her face reddening.
The woman surveyed her carefully. “I always do, thank you, lady. I know these streets. Born and raised on them. Ain’t no one who can pull the wool over Sweet Annie’s eyes.” She paused. “There was a large man tonight who tried it on me. He scared me, and that’s saying something. A shorn head and eyes as black as coal. He gave me the cold shivers. I sent that one on his way. I don’t fancy ending up floating in the Thames.”
Patricia shuddered. She had never talked to a harlot in her life. And hearing the reality of what this woman had to do to survive was truly dreadful.
They thanked the woman again before walking on. Patricia gazed down the street feeling dispirited. This was like being on a wild goose chase indeed. Sometimes people had seen Jackson and sometimes they hadn’t. But the old drunk had said he had gone down this street and it was the only thing they had to go on now.
For a moment, she remembered her daydream in the carriage. Walking along the beach, hand in hand with Jackson. Finding that secret cove. Her heart ached with longing. Was it destined to remain a dream?
Her heart plummeted further. Even if they found Jackson, she knew he would probably never forgive her. His pride had been severely dented, as well as the personal betrayal that she had never told him about her family’s debts. It was a lot to pardon. That scandal sheet had made him so angry he didn’t even want to see her face. She knew that.
Perhaps that dream of walking alongside him on the beach was destined to remain that; a beautiful dream shimmering on the horizon, out of reach forever.
