Fearless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 1): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series Read Free

movement through the air with a closed fist.
    Kelly stepped forward abruptly and wrapped a gloved hand around my wrist halting my movements. My position and his height meant he loomed over me. The glow from the lantern shining up in his face and sparking with fervour in his eyes.
    “Must you be so vivid?” he whispered.
    “What good would a surgeon be, if she were not?” I countered.
    “That, Anna, is your problem.” Said without rancour or reproach. Inspector Kelly understood my plight.
    He just couldn’t do anything about it.
    Footsteps from the entrance of the alleyway had him retreating to his side of the small space that had formerly separated us. We both looked up, rather guiltily at a guess.
    Kelly’s partner-in-arms came to a slow walk, covering the last few feet between us all with a mirthful smirk.
    “Miss Cassidy,” he said with a bow of his head in acknowledgement. “What a surprise.” It was anything but, I was sure.
    “Sergeant Blackmore,” I replied in greeting.
    His smile didn’t abate until his eyes landed on his superior.
    “Sir, we’ve got a problem,” he announced, all levity having left him.
    Kelly’s eyes swept across Margaret’s body and landed on me. He straightened his back, and then offered an, “Excuse us, Miss Cassidy,” before walking a few feet away with Blackmore.
    I tilted my head in an effort to overhear the conversation, but Kelly knew me too well to not have his voice lowered appropriately. My gaze returned to Margaret, questions rioting through my mind.
    She was meant to have been in front of the stage, throwing questions at Mr Entrican in order to waylay him. Despite his earlier support for our cause, recently he’d behaved like any other gentleman. We had been sure the moment he realised the Suffragettes were upon him, that he would have retreated in great haste to avoid a confrontation. But how quickly had he retreated? And had he seen Margaret?
    “Whatever were you up to, Maggie?” I whispered, just as Kelly and Blackmore approached.
    “We’ll take good care of her, Miss Cassidy,” Kelly declared; a signal for me to rise and leave.
    “The surgeon is here?” I asked absently, as I shifted to my feet, my eyes all for Margaret.
    Silence met my question. I turned to see Sergeant Blackmore studying the rough hewn ground beneath his boots and the inspector looking stoic. And determined.
    “He is corned, is he not?” I enquired, well used to the police surgeon’s usual inebriated state.
    “Anna,” Kelly chastised, then realised his mistake. “Miss Cassidy,” he corrected in an even more persistent tone. “It is not appropriate for you to tally here.”
    Of all the things he could have said, that was the most shocking. Kelly understood the strictures of today’s society. The repression of women from all walks of life. But he had also known my father. He had been aware of how my father had raised me. He’d watched on and never commented in any way.
    And when my father was killed, he’d stepped forward and offered his protection. Protection I had sorely needed, but refused to take.
    It was not his protection I wanted. Anything else, though, was lost to me.
    But never had he outrightly shown his disapproval of my upbringing.
    “I am more than capable of carrying out the post-mortem,” I offered, my shoulders rigid, my hands in fists at my side.
    Blackmore stepped away, with some mumbled comment about checking on a constable. Kelly took a tentative step toward me.
    I stood my ground.
    “Even if I wanted to, I could not,” he explained gently, as though speaking to an emotional child. “You know this, Anna. Drummond will not allow you in his surgery. And despite his… failings, he is the Chief Surgeon for the Auckland Police Force.”
    “Then bring her to mine.”
    He stared long at me, shifting shades of blue in his eyes. The glow from the nearby lantern painted shadows across his face, casting his short beard in an auburn light. Kelly had dark hair,