Lady Rogue Read Free Page B

If the nights were filled with those seeking adventure and gaiety, the days were for those of a more regulated existence--the workers of London.
    "Hot baked w arden pears and pippins!"  A hopeful little man in white apron stepped out in front of her, nearly colliding with Dawn as she passed his way.  Though she was hungry, she shook her head, determined nonetheless to taste of a delicacy as soon as the vendor's back was turned.  The appearance of another customer gave her a chance.  Her nimble fingers captured one of the yellow-hued apples and carefully concealed it in her apron pocket.             
    "Looks like it's gonna be an 'ot one, it does," she said with an angelic smile as he turned around.
    "Hot as hades I would imagine."  He eyed her suspiciously but Dawn quickly retreated down the street .  Taking refuge behind the corner of a building and scanning the street for any sign of pursuit, she relished the tartly sweet fruit with a chuckle, threw the apple core over her shoulder, then continued nonchalantly on her way.
    London 's tradesmen and wealthier merchants were opening up their shutters, briskly setting up shops and stalls to display their wares.  Passing by a window showcasing china and glassware, Dawn felt a prick of nostalgia, remembering those days long ago when she'd helped her father with this morning routine.  It seemed a lifetime ago.   Now she and stole from men like her father.  Any twinge of guilt she might have felt was washed away, however, by terrible memories of the Fleet and days and nights spent wandering the streets.  No one had offered her comfort.  It was just as Black John said, "every man for 'isself!"
    Thievery and trickery was the life she’d become accustomed to.   True to his word Black John Dunn had  tirelessly  trained Dawn and Robbie in their new vocation.  But Dawn still remembered the fine manner in which she and her brother had once lived, and she could never quite seem to push her dream of being a lady permanently from her mind.  Someday, she knew, she'd be just like one of those brightly dressed peacocks she saw strutting around on the arms of handsome young dandies or riding in shiny black landaus.  Now those so-called gentlemen carefully avoided her, but one day she'd see a looks of admiration replace their expression of scorn.  Until then she'd have to make due with her present circumstances.  Above all, Dawn was a survivor.  Experience had taught her that she had to be.
    "Here's yer rare holland socks, four pairs a shi lling!"  The cobbled streets were slowly but certainly becoming crowded with tradesmen, hawkers and shoppers.  Dawn's specialty was handkerchiefs, a skill she'd been taught right from the first.  Satin and lace confections fetched a moderately decent price at the rag fair in Rosemary Lane or at its rival, Petticoat Lane, where second-hand clothing was bought, then sold again.  Robbie's skill lay in filching purses and pocketbooks. In their thieves’ circle both were credited with having a touch as light as the stroke of a butterfly's wing.
    I oughtta be able to find me quite a lot of fancy wipes among this bunch , she thought, eyeing each person that passed with a calculating eye.  Adroitly she weaved in and out of the crowd in search of  prizes to be plundered.  She did not see the tall chimney sweep that loomed in her way until she ran headlong into him.
    "Omphhhh....!"  Black soot and ashes smudged her clothing from head to toe.  Grumbling, she brushed herself off.  "Watch where yer goin', ya blinkin' arse!" she scolded, even though th e accident had been her fault.
    "Sorry, Miss!"  He grinned, dabbing at her soiled gray cotton dress with large boned hands.  His efforts only worsened the problem until Dawn uttered a string of swear words, gave him a look of contempt and crossed the street. "I sweep yer chimneys clean o', sweep yer chimney's clean o," she heard him warble wistfully.
    Suddenly a hand reached out