Cates, Kimberly Read Free Page B

Juliet's red brick house. Torches ripped orange holes of flame in the twilight, raucous voices slurred with gin battered against the prudish rows of houses. Juliet could imagine the uproar the crowd was causing behind each of her neighbor's shuttered windows.
    "Oh, bother!" Juliet said, bolting to her feet. "The last time these fools charged down here, Solicitor Barnes summoned the charley to accuse me of disturbing the public peace!"
    "What are you going to do?"
    "Go out there and chase them off, of course."
    "No, Juliet! You cannot! It's too dangerous!"
    "If I don't chase them off, the constable might be inclined to take me on a visit to Newgate!"
    She winced, cursing herself for her carelessness as she heard Elise's tiny cry. The girl's face turned ashen with panic—the legacy of a childhood spent with her debtor father behind the prison's cold walls. "I'm sorry, Elise," Juliet said, laying a hand on the girl's cheek. "I was only jesting. Nothing is going to happen to me."
    "You can't be certain of that. They're in an ugly temper, Juliet. Even uglier than last week. I—I heard them."
    Juliet battled the urge to dive under the covers and drag pillows over her head, blotting out the sounds until the mob tired of tormenting her and wandered off to find other prey. She shoved down the lump of dread in her throat and forced a game smile. "Listen to me, sweeting. These people are cowards. Cowards only fling words and nasty threats. But if they're confronted face to face, they flee."
    "You don't know these men like I do. You don't know how—how cruel they can be."
    Yes I do, a voice echoed in Juliet's head. I see it every time I look into your eyes, into the eyes of all the other angels of Angel's Fall. And I vow, they'll never be able to hurt you again.
    "Stay up here, Elise. Lock yourself in your room. I'll come for you when it's over and we'll go down to the kitchen for a bit of tea."
    "N-no. I... oh, please, Juliet. Please don't do this!" Two huge tears welled up, flowing down Elise's cheeks.
    But Juliet was already hastening down the stairs. She heard the hesitant patter of Elise following her, saw a half-dozen other ladies peering at her from doorways or behind corners.
    She reached out to open the door when a hand caught her elbow. She turned, to find Elise thrusting something into her hand. A frilly parasol.
    "I don't think I'll have to worry about my complexion out there," Juliet said gently.
    "I thought... if you needed to—to drive them away..."
    Juliet couldn't help the wry smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth as she imagined this surly mob confronted with such a fearsome weapon.
    But she'd never hurt the fragile girl's feelings. "Lock the door behind me," she said gently.
    Elise nodded.
    Sucking in a steadying breath, Juliet opened the portal and stepped out into the twilight. Hostility hit her in a blistering wave, a roar erupting from the mob as they saw her.
    She battled not to flinch, show her fear. But the crowd was larger than before, and angrier. Twenty-five, maybe thirty people. Mostly men, from half-pay officers eagerly flinging away their fortunes to rough-hewn sailors red-faced from gin.
    But all of them had traits in common as well. Their eyes were heavy-lidded from debauchery, their mouths curled in ugly sneers. At their head sailed a woman decked out in puce satin, her eyes hard as agates, her hands thick and strong as a man's.
    Juliet could imagine just how hard those hands could be, cuffing frightened girls as she forced them into the elegant rooms she kept for her wealthy patrons.
    Mother Cavendish. Of all the wicked people she'd met in her year in London, there was no one Juliet loathed more. Notorious for her nursery for courtesans, Mother traveled the London stews, paying coin to starving families to sell their most beautiful daughters—promising they'd never be hungry again. And they hadn't been. They'd traded the crude gnawing in their stomachs for a more exquisite kind of