Chapter Ten

L ottie navigated the bustling streets of London, her steps quick and determined as she made her way toward her sister-in-law Sadie’s townhouse. The city was alive with activity, carriages rumbling past and vendors hawking their wares on street corners. Despite the ceaseless commotion, Lottie’s thoughts were singularly focused on her mission.

She wished to interrogate her new sister.

Sadie had always fascinated Lottie with her unconventional story. A duchess who had once disguised herself as a male deal porter at the London Docks and found love in the most unexpected of places—it was a tale that intrigued and inspired her. She had often wondered how Sadie had navigated a man’s world with such resilience and determination.

Upon reaching her sister-in-law’s elegant townhouse in Mayfair, Lottie was greeted by the butler, a stately figure with a perfectly groomed mustache. “Lady Lottie,” he greeted her with a nod. “The duchess is expecting you in the drawing room.”

Lottie offered the butler a polite smile and followed him through the opulent halls of the townhouse. The interior was a testament to wealth and sophistication, with ornate furnishings and artwork that spoke of privilege and refinement.

Sadie awaited her in the drawing room, seated in a high-backed armchair with a book in hand. She looked every inch the duchess, her dark hair elegantly styled, her gown a marvel of silk and lace. But Lottie knew that beneath the veneer of aristocracy lay a woman who had faced her own trials and emerged stronger for it.

“Lottie,” Sadie greeted her warmly, setting aside her book and rising to her feet. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Lottie returned the smile and embraced Sadie. “The pleasure is mine,” she replied. “I’ve been longing to hear more about your adventures as a deal porter. Every time we begin to converse on it, Crawford sticks his big nose in and demands to know the topic we discuss. It’s rather infuriating.”

Sadie led her to a cozy sitting area, and they settled in plush chairs, the scent of freshly brewed tea lingering in the air. “Ah, your brother. He doesn’t like to discuss my days as a deal porter,” Sadie mused. “It feels like a lifetime ago, truthfully, though the experiences are still vivid in my mind.”

Lottie leaned forward, eager to hear more. “How did you manage it? To disguise yourself and work among the men?”

Sadie’s expression turned thoughtful. “It wasn’t easy, I’ll admit,” she began. “But necessity is a powerful motivator. I had no other choice if I wanted to survive on my own terms. I learned to blend in, to speak their language, and to work twice as hard to prove myself.”

Lottie nodded. “And Crawford? How did he come into the knowledge of your deception?”

Sadie’s eyes softened with affection as she spoke of her husband. “Crawford was a regular visitor at the docks, making excuses to personally check on the company’s shipments,” she explained, referring to Castlebury Shipping, the family business. “He saw through my disguise early on, but instead of exposing me, he helped me. He became my protector, my confidant, and, eventually, my love.”

Lottie couldn’t help but smile at the romantic twist in the tale. “It sounds like a true love story, against all odds.”

Sadie chuckled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Indeed, it was. But love has a way of defying expectations, doesn’t it?”

An image of Thatcher popped into Lottie’s mind. She pushed it away, mortified.

Their conversation shifted to a more serious note as Sadie shared her experiences with the Revivalists, who had once posed a threat to her. “I faced my fair share of challenges,” she admitted. “But surviving the Revivalists only made me more determined to live life on my own terms. I refuse to be a pawn in their games.”

Lottie admired Sadie’s resilience and determination. It was a lesson she hoped to carry with her as she navigated her own path in a society that often resisted change. “You’ve inspired me,” she confessed. “Your strength and independence are something I greatly admire.”

Sadie reached out to grasp her hand, the grip firm and reassuring. “Remember that you have the power to forge your own destiny,” she said. “Don’t let anyone else dictate the course of your life.”

As Lottie left Sadie and Crawford’s townhouse that day, she carried with her not only the wisdom of a duchess who had defied convention but also the knowledge that she, too, could face any challenge that lay ahead with determination and resilience. Sadie’s story had lit a fire within her, igniting a renewed sense of purpose and the belief that she could make her mark on the world in her own unique way.

As she stepped out, a sense of exhilaration and independence coursed through her veins. She decided to take a leisurely walk through Hyde Park before returning to her own home a few streets over.

The short distance from Sadie’s residence to the park’s entrance gave her a few moments of solitude, a rare commodity for a woman of her station. Her heart swelled with appreciation for the simple beauty of the park. It was a stark contrast to the bustling streets of Mayfair, a reminder of the natural world that existed beyond the confines of Society. As she strolled along the winding path, she felt a sense of peace settle over her. She had always been drawn to the written word, finding solace and inspiration in the pages of books. Now, surrounded by the beauty of Hyde Park, she felt a connection to the world around her, a sense of belonging that went beyond the constraints of her gender and station.

However, her moment of serenity was shattered when she heard the approaching footsteps of a man behind her. She quickened her pace, her heart racing as she realized that she was alone in the park, vulnerable to the advances of a stranger.

The heavy footsteps drew closer, and Lottie’s instincts screamed at her to flee. She didn’t need to turn around to know that his intentions were far from honorable—she could feel it. Panic bubbled up inside her as she broke into a run, her skirts billowing around her.

The man’s voice, oily and lecherous, reached her ears as he called out to her. “My sweet, there’s no need to be so hasty. I only want to get to know you better.”

Lottie’s breath came in short, terrified gasps as she veered off the narrow path and into a dense thicket of trees. She knew that she couldn’t outrun him, but she could try to lose him in the labyrinthine woods of the park. Branches and leaves scratched at her arms and face as she pushed through the undergrowth. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she prayed for a miracle to lead her to safety. She had heard stories of women who had fallen victim to men like this, and she refused to become another tragic tale.

The man’s footsteps grew louder behind her, and Lottie knew that she was running out of time. She had to find a place to hide, to escape his clutches before it was too late. Finally, she spotted a large, gnarled tree with low-hanging branches. With a burst of desperation, she scrambled up into its leafy sanctuary, praying that the man wouldn’t find her.

The world could be a perilous place for a woman, even in the most idyllic of settings.

Lottie clung to the branches, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she watched and waited. The man’s voice drew ever nearer, his words filled with vile promises and threats.

“My sweet, don’t be afraid,” the man cooed, his voice dripping with malice. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

Lottie pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a terrified sob. She couldn’t respond to him, couldn’t reveal her location.

“Come out, my poppet,” he continued, his tone turning darker with impatience. “I won’t hurt you. I just want to have a little fun.”

The words sent a shiver down Lottie’s spine, and she clung to the tree with all her strength. She knew that this man was dangerous, that he wouldn’t hesitate to harm her if he found her.

“Just imagine the pleasures I can offer you,” he purred, his footsteps growing closer to the tree. “You won’t regret it, my lovely.”

Lottie’s heart pounded in her chest, and she prayed for a miracle to keep her hidden. She couldn’t let this man touch her, couldn’t allow herself to become another victim of his sinister desires. As the man continued his search below, Lottie remained frozen in place, her fingers trembling on the tree branches. She knew that she had to wait, to let him grow frustrated and leave. Only then could she safely make her way back to the safety of her own townhouse.

The man continued to call out, his tone increasingly desperate as he realized he couldn’t find Lottie. He stomped around the base of the tree, cursing under his breath, the words becoming more and more incomprehensible as his anger grew.

“Come out, you wretched girl!” he shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. “I know you’re here somewhere. You can’t hide from me forever!”

Lottie held her breath. She knew that any movement or sound could give her away. The man’s threats and insults continued, but Lottie remained hidden, determined not to reveal herself.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the man let out a roar of frustration that echoed through the woods. It was a chilling sound, and Lottie shivered as she listened. “Damn you, girl!” he yelled one last time, his voice filled with anger and defeat. And with that, his heavy footsteps receded into the distance, growing fainter and fainter until they were but a distant memory.

Lottie waited a few moments longer, trembling with a mix of fear and relief. She knew that she had narrowly escaped a dangerous situation, and she was acutely aware of how vulnerable women like her were in a world filled with predatory men. She allowed herself to hope that he had given up the search and left Hyde Park. She cautiously began to ease herself down from the tree, but suddenly, the sound of his re-approaching steps made her heart leap into her throat.

He returned, his face twisted in a cruel grin that sent a shiver down Lottie’s spine. He loomed at the base of the tree, his voice dripping with malice. “You’ll regret this, girl,” he sneered, his eyes filled with a menacing glint. “When I tell my brothers what you did, they’ll make sure you pay for your insolence.”

Lottie’s fear deepened. She had no idea who this man’s brothers were or what they were capable of, but the ominous threat hung heavily in the air. She knew she had to get away from him, and fast.

With one final, chilling laugh, the man turned and disappeared for good into the night, leaving Lottie trembling in the tree, her heart pounding with fear. She waited until she was absolutely certain he was gone before cautiously descending from her hiding place. With trembling hands, she straightened her clothing and smoothed her hair, attempting to regain her composure. Quickly, she made it to the entrance of the park.

Spotting a hackney carriage nearby, she rushed toward it. “Rhodes Theatre!” Lottie implored the driver with a quiver in her voice as she flung open the carriage door and leaped inside. Her urgency left no room for argument, and the driver spurred the horses into action.

As the carriage clattered through the dimly lit streets of London, Lottie’s mind raced with questions. Who was that man, and why had he pursued her with such sinister intent? The night had taken a terrifying turn, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that danger still lurked in the shadows, ready to strike when she least expected.

*

Lottie stepped into Rhodes Theatre with her heart still racing from her terrifying encounter. She hadn’t expected to find herself there at this late hour, but the need for a place of refuge had driven her to seek solace in familiar surroundings. To her surprise, she walked right into a flurry of activity on the stage. Actors moved about, rehearsing their lines and blocking out scenes.

And at the center of it all stood Thatcher, taking charge and directing them through the first rough scene of the play they had been working on together.

She watched him with a mix of fascination and frustration. His commanding presence was undeniable, and it was clear that the actors respected his authority. But as she observed the scene unfolding before her, a critical eye couldn’t help but find fault.

Thatcher paced back and forth, offering instructions and corrections, and Lottie couldn’t resist speaking her mind. “No, no, no,” she muttered to herself, her lips curling into a bemused smile. A nearby stagehand glanced at her curiously, but Lottie ignored the scrutiny. She was too engrossed in what was happening on stage.

Thatcher paused, his gaze shifting toward her, and their eyes locked for a brief moment. Lottie could see the flicker of surprise, and she raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with the scene?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

Lottie couldn’t hold back any longer. “Everything,” she replied bluntly, her voice carrying across the stage. “The pacing is all wrong, and the actors lack chemistry. It’s as if they’re reciting lines from a script rather than embodying their characters.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the actors, and Thatcher shot her a tight smile. “Well, Lady Lottie, it seems you have a keen eye for the theatre,” he remarked, not sounding the least bit happy about it. “Perhaps you’d like to enlighten us with your expertise another time.”

Lottie stepped onto the stage, her confidence bolstered by the challenge. “Now seems the perfect time,” she countered, her voice ringing with authority.