Chapter One

C hapter O ne

London, 1826

T his was not the way to her father's house.

It could not be.

Granted, Lucy Allred had never been to the house, given that her father had only recently retrenched, but this was not in a part of London that any respectable person would choose to reside. Night was falling, and with the natural shadows seemed to be several unnatural ones. Light did not seem to touch any portion of this region, and she wondered if that was also the case in daylight. The discoloration on buildings was evident, the filth of windows plain to see, and the scraps of life itself seemed to merely hang about on the prevailing dampness in the air.

This was certainly not the same neighborhood she had left her father in when she had gone to live and teach at Miss Masters's School for Fine Young Ladies at the start of term. Not even remotely close in location or respectability, which meant her father had been lying when he had assured her that the house he had retrenched to was not far at all from the house she had left him in.

It was no great surprise that her father had lied to her; it was only the magnitude of this lie that was irritating.

Where in the world was the coachman taking her?

She should have known something was wrong when her father had refused to give her the address of the new house. Before today, she'd thought perhaps he had only neglected to do so, but now…

Was it shame that had kept him from sharing that detail with her? It was not as though she had all of London memorized and could place a particular address in a moment. They had been coming to London every Season since she had turned sixteen, but her familiarity with the city had been limited to Mayfair, with few exceptions. And then earlier this year, she'd grown more familiar with Cheapside. Not excessively, though, as her father was rather particular about how and where Lucy spent her time.

Whatever it was, her uneasiness was growing the deeper into London the carriage was taking her. She hadn't expected her father to send a coach to meet her at the Bell at Bromley, but there it had been, the driver unfamiliar, but seeming to be perfectly respectable in all aspects and waiting to take her into London to return to her father. It was even a comfortable coach, which was also unexpected, given her personal history with their family's coaches.

Oh, bother… Had her father changed in location only and chosen to exploit the newfound savings into other amenities? It would be just like him to pride himself on living within his limited means in house only and maintaining the lifestyle he craved in every other regard. The man could land himself in debtor's prison and still expect to be waited on by someone of a lowlier station. Everything was about appearances and standing, regardless of the reality of their finances.

He would have foisted Lucy off on any man of distinction and fortune had she any sort of dowry to tempt them.

But her dowry was limited to the portion of her mother's own dowry that had been designated as such. It had been intended for her father to add to the portion as time went on, but it had sat on its own for her entire life. Five hundred pounds was all she could answer for, and no one wanted so meager a sum. Her father had no idea that Lucy had discovered the paltry amount of her dowry some weeks ago, and she intended to keep it that way.

The rush to get her married off had halted when her mother had died last year, and the mourning period that had followed had granted her a blessed reprieve. Her father had hoped she would make an advantageous match in what remained of the Season when she had been permitted to participate in it, but the interest had been minimal at best.

Lucy was two-and-twenty, which meant she ought to have been married, or soon to be, according to Society's standards, but here she was, a teacher at a finishing school. A highly respectable one, there was no doubt, but an employed woman would never truly be sought after by those of a station to which her father aspired. He hadn't argued when the position had been offered to her, making some offhand comment about the cost of running a household being decreased for having her gone and the benefits of being associated with an illustrious school, and he had assured her that as soon as his finances were resolved, he would secure her a better dowry so she could make a match.

Lucy had no aims or schemes for any such thing, but she would welcome the opportunity to form a life away from her father's increasingly bad habits and poor taste. They were in such debt, it was a wonder anyone still associated with him. But the name still carried weight somehow, and so they were not cast off yet.

Yet being the operative word.

It was only a matter of time, and Lucy finally had a contingency plan for herself with being at the school. She would never make enough to free her father from eventual prison, and he would call her an ungrateful daughter for doing nothing to get him out, but she would accept the insult. They could sell everything they owned, and it would still not cover what was owed. He was making his own messes and would have to take the consequences when they inevitably came.

If they came.

There seemed to be no haste in ensuring that a gentleman became aware of any such thing in his life. Everyone seemed perfectly content to let the man sink himself deeper and deeper into the chasm of debt, which was an utter farce if she ever saw one. If they never received what they were owed, how could they consider themselves satisfied in any manner? What good could it possibly do to have someone remain indebted to another?

One thing was for certain: there would be no one calling upon the Allreds in this part of town. Perhaps that was something that could assist her father in limiting his spending habits. If no one called upon them, how could he be tempted?

Lucy laughed to herself and rubbed her brow in disbelief at her own naivete. Her father needed no incentive to be tempted. Temptation was the topic of his thoughts at any given moment, and the very air that he breathed. Temptation was his oldest friend and his truest love.

She'd have thought temptation killed her mother if she hadn't known better.

As the coach took another turn onto a somehow even darker, danker street, Lucy sighed to herself, her humorless laughter gone along with her indignation. She would have done better to stay at the school for the winter break. Even spending the Christmas holidays there would have done her more good than coming home to this. The headmistress, Miss Bradford, and her niece, Miss Tess Ridley, would be at the school, after all, and both of them were good company. Tess was only fifteen, but she was wise beyond her years and had a sparkling wit that was remarkably engaging.

Lucy had enjoyed having Tess as a student this last term in her logic and philosophy course, but she could not say how the girl would have responded to social occasions with her teacher as a guest. The same could probably be said of her comportment and elocution students, but she did her best to be relatable as well as respected.

The bigger question in Lucy's mind was what she would teach in the coming term, aside from French. That had been her sole subject initially, but then one of the other teachers had needed to take a holiday for the fall term, and Lucy had leapt at the chance to teach more, particularly with the increased income from it. Now, as she understood it, the teacher she had been covering for would return and take up at least some of her classes again. Miss Bradford had assured Lucy that she would have a place and that it would all work out, but there was no comfort in those words for Lucy. Her father used the phrase regularly and nothing ever worked out.

As evidenced by wherever this coach was taking her.

So long as Miss Bradford did not have Lucy teach composition or art, she could probably manage any of the basic topics of the school. But there was also a penmanship class, and Lucy had been praised for her elegance and neatness of hand. Perhaps…

The coach hit a dip in the road, and Lucy was jostled roughly against the side, smacking her head on the window's edge with surprising sharpness. Wincing and rubbing at the spot that her bonnet had done nothing to protect, Lucy pushed herself farther away from the window and wondered if they were actually going to drive through the Thames at some point.

London was far too large for her comfort, and there was far too much of this rather seedy side of it than she had ever expected.

Where were all the people? London was always bustling—she had experienced it year after year—but she hadn't seen a single person in at least ten minutes.

Surely, there was no corner of London that was actually unpopulated, and yet…

Lucy bit her lip as she looked out of the window, feeling the blow from it still throbbing beneath her bonnet. Where was she? Where was she going? What had her father gotten himself into?

What had he gotten her into?

Oh. goodness. What if the coach hadn't actually come from her father? What if there was some plot against him and she had fallen for it? What if she wasn't actually in London at all? What if she was somewhere else entirely?

"Don't be an idiot, Lucy," she hissed to herself, trying to talk sense before her mind fully ran away with itself. "Who would go through all of that for him?"

Her father thought himself very important and influential, but he really wasn't, and Lucy was certainly not the way to get at his purse strings. Or heart. Sending a carriage for Lucy on the exact date and time she would be at Bromley only to dispatch with her in some way that would provoke a reaction from her father was ridiculous, and thinking so was childish.

She was only fatigued from her journey and uneasy about her present location, and she was letting her imagination run rampant in this state.

She might have been missish once, but recent years had rid her of such mannerisms. Now she had almost coarse hands, irritated knuckles, uneven nails, freckles on her cheeks, and mostly secondhand clothes. She could not afford airs, financially or personally, and saw no need for finery, knowing now how tarnished it could be.

Lucy Allred might have been a beauty if her life had been otherwise; now it was behind her without fully blooming. Had she remained with her father and not found gainful occupation for her time and her intellect, she might have minded. As it was, she was perfectly content to let her looks and her fashions fade.

Well, perhaps not perfectly content, but content enough.

Marriage was not her aim at this time in her life. Her father would find some way to bleed her husband dry, had he any assets to be realized. Far better for her to eventually find a quiet country parson or landowner in Kent, near the school, and leave the elaborate ruse of her father's lifestyle behind.

Someday, perhaps.

Provided she escaped from this holiday in a godforsaken alley of London's undercarriage.

Had her father really sunk this far? He'd never dress like it, eat like it, or spend like it, and he utterly refused to feel shame for anything.

He probably wasn't even ashamed of whichever one of these shoddy homes belonged to him. It would be only temporary, in his eyes, and he was shortly to be on his way back into his proper ranks.

He was always on his way, and the only way he ever went was down.

Perhaps she ought to consider marriage sooner rather than later. It would keep her from having to deal with her father, if she married wisely, and then she might find some hope or consolation in wherever her home was.

But… there was an odd sense of daughterly devotion that she had never quite understood. Her father never treated her poorly, and he was never cruel. He simply took minimal interest in her apart from whatever social currency she might hold. He did his duty as a father in the traditional sense, but she had never known a single moment of affection or concern at his hands. Certainly never respect.

What was roughly between active negligence and fervent care? Blatant indifference? He expected Lucy to maintain the position of dutiful daughter and all that was associated with it, in spite of his own disinterest in her, and she played her part well.

But there was no doubt that she would have been of more worth to him as a son.

A son might have married a massive dowry, after all.

Alas for being an only child and a woman all at once.

Lucy had no spine for standing up to her father, as evidenced by having Miss Bradford send a formal letter to him with an offer of a position for his daughter at the school. It was a strategic move on Lucy's part, as she would never have been able to tell him she had sought out employment. He would never have accepted that. But an offer from the most respected institution for educating and training ladies of Society?

Stars had immediately appeared in his eyes, and he insisted Lucy write a letter of acceptance that instant, which she had done.

But if he was really living in these conditions, Lucy might have to try for a spine. Or stiff knees, at the least.

She was jolted out of her thoughts as the carriage gently came to a halt. Peering out of the window, she felt her stomach plummet through her hips and into the cushioned seat beneath her. There was not a single light on in any of the buildings before her, as far as she could tell, and at least a third of the windows were cracked in some regard. The lamp lighters hadn't been out yet, which made the entire street dark and ominous.

And this was where she was supposed to get out?

Heaven help her.

Though, as she clenched her now chattering teeth, she doubted archangels would swoop down and snatch her away from this imminent danger, no matter how pious she became in the next few seconds. Or how good a Christian she had been up to this point.

And yet, the door of the coach opened, and the kindly driver inclined his head at her, smiling as he folded down the steps. "Your stop, Miss Allred."

"I was dreadfully afraid of that," Lucy murmured, though it was not as if the driver could do anything about the location. She took his proffered hand as she scooted closer, rising from her seat and stepping cautiously down from the coach. "Thank you."

"Of course, Miss Allred. One moment." He shut the door behind her and moved around to the back of the carriage.

Lucy let herself feel the grimace across her face as she looked all the way down the street, as far as her eye could see, and found only a cold expanse of darkness. The sounds were unfamiliar, the scent was distasteful, and something on the air actually tasted of grime. Some sour, salty, plant-like taste that also had a texture that coated her teeth and made her want to clamber back into the coach to hide.

And this was the miserable corner of the earth she now had to endure until she could return to Kent?

Lovely.

A strange crackling sound came from behind her, and Lucy whirled quickly to face it, her gasp more instinctual than impulsive. But impulse took over with a vengeance when she saw the coach rolling away and picking up speed as it moved, without offloading her trunk or pointing her in the direction of the residence she ought to be approaching.

He was leaving her? Like this? What about her things, and what about her safety?

"No!" she cried as the coach disappeared around the first street up ahead, leaving her completely and entirely alone in the dark.

In London. Seedy London. Dangerous London.

Scary London.

Suddenly chilled, Lucy rubbed her arms quickly, looking around to try and find some sort of bearings. She couldn't call out for her father and hope he might appear in one of the doorways, and she most certainly could not wander far if she hoped to survive the night. But neither could she stay here and hope that someone kind might direct her to Cheapside or something.

After all, she didn't even know if that was where her father was.

She didn't know if this was where her father was.

"I refuse to die here," Lucy whispered to herself, wishing the words didn't shake when she said them. "I refuse."

Boldness had never known so pathetic an attempt, and Lucy Allred would not have known courage if it struck her in the face.

Surely, she would get some credit for her efforts anyway.

For pity's sake, she didn't even have a proper coat on. The weather was mild today and she hadn't thought… she hadn't expected…

Biting her lip, Lucy walked to the corner, glancing up and down the street to no avail. Nothing familiar, nothing light, nothing encouraging. That was all it was. Nothing.

"I r-refuse…" Lucy tried again, her legs shaking beneath her. "Ref-fuse…"

"You called, pet?"

The rasping, jeering tone would have made her whirl around but for the fact that her arms were seized, and her feet lifted from the ground.

"What are you doing?" she cried, with desperate attempts at flailing that only succeeded in flapping the fabric of her skirts. "Put me down! Put me down, now!"

"Oh, the lady doth protest a bit much," another voice crooned, his voice sounding the slightest bit strained and muffled.

The blackguard must have been the chief one holding her, which only encouraged Lucy to flail a bit more. Kick her legs. Wriggle however she could move to make containing her bodily that much more difficult.

As it happened, the hold he had on her was rather complete, and moving at all was a trial, which was perfectly maddening, altogether terrifying, and it did not help that he smelled of tobacco and sweat, along with something alcoholic that made her want to gag.

She wasn't going to get free of them, that much was clear. But what did they want? What was this?

"I have no money," Lucy told them, trying not to shout it. "Nothing. Take my reticule, there's nothing in it. My trunk is gone, and…"

"We don't care about the money, gel," the first one scolded impatiently. "We're here for you. Now shut up." He struck Lucy across the face, sending a searing fire across her cheek and startling the breath from her lungs.

She whimpered against the pain, now making her ear tingle. "Please. Please, whatever it is, whoever wants whatever with me… Please, don't do this. Please. I am begging you, please, don't…"

"I will strike you again if you don't shut your mouth!" came the dark retort.

"Oh, that seems a bit harsh," a new, bright, rather crisp voice broke in as though only strolling by. "The lady did say please, after all. Now, why don't you make this all rather tidy and put her down before I am forced to make you bleed?"