Perfect Bride Read Free

she had a part of her mother.
    Pulling up her cloak, Devon skirted a puddle left by an earlier rain shower. On either side of her, the houses huddled together like shivering children in a biting wind. A ragged woman slept in a doorway, bony knees huddled to her scarecrow frame.
    Despite her earlier resolve, a dry fear touched Dev-on’s spine. I don’t want to be like her , she thought with a touch of desperation. I don’t!
    Her steps slowed. All at once, she recalled the boardinghouse on Buckeridge Street where they’d lived for a time when she was younger. It was a vile, smelly place filled with scum and decay, and both she and Mama had hated it there. She reminded her self that they had survived hunger and squalor.
    Yet they had never been homeless. There was al ways a roof above their heads, no matter that it sometimes leaked like water through a sieve.
    Taking a breath, she battled a rising despair. She could not give in. Staunchly she told herself she had her wits, her determination...and her mother’s necklace.
    “What ’ave we ’ere? Why, a lady with a fondness for the laddies!”
    The voice rang eerily into the night. Devon stopped short. A man blocked her way. Another stepped from the shadows, just to her left.
    “Hello, dearie.”
    The fine hairs on the back of Devon’s neck prick led. And somehow she knew she’d remember the sound of that oily voice for the rest of her days . . .
    He beckoned. “Come here, dearie. Come to Harry!”
    “Leave off,” protested the other. “I saw her first!”
    “Ah, but she’s closer to me, Freddie!”
    Harry. Freddie. Her breath caught in her throat. As the names tumbled through her mind, her heart plummeted. She knew this pair—or at least she knew of them. They belonged to one of the most frightening gangs that roamed St. Giles!
    “Wot say we share, eh, Freddie?”
    The suggestion came from Harry, a coarse-faced man dressed in a filthy tweed jacket, a top hat tipped jauntily on his head. Beside him, Freddie grinned, displaying yellow, rotting teeth. Vile-looking crea tures they were, both of them men of sinister counte nance, ageless in the soul, their behavior ruled by perhaps the oldest of provocations.
    Greed.
    Oh, yes, she could see it in their eyes. And now Freddie blocked her way. He was smaller than his brother, not much taller than she.
    She flung her head up. By God, she would show no fear.
    But feel it she did. The cold breath of terror trick led along her spine. Her breath caught in her throat.
    She willed herself not to panic. Mama had always told her she possessed a sound constitution. She would not scream. Indeed, what good would it do?
    Earlier she had given thanks that not a soul was about. But now...
    She managed to shield her fear behind a wall of bravado. “What do you want?” she asked sharply.
    “Depends on wot ye got to give!” There was a sin ister rumble to Freddie’s laugh. He stepped near, grabbing her chin. The streets were ill-lit and dark, but as if to aid him, a full moon slid from behind a cloud. He tilted her face to the sky. “Oh, but we’ve caught ourselves a pretty one, Harry!” he crowed. “Will ye look at those eyes! Pure gold, they are!”
    Devon cursed her forgetfulness. She always took great care with her clothing when she left the Crow’s Nest each night. The brim of her bonnet was wide enough to help shield her face; the crown was deep enough that she was able to stuff her mane of thick, golden tresses within. As an extra precaution, she usually smudged her face with soot to hide the youth ful curve of her cheeks and neck. But she’d been anx ious to be on her way tonight, and she’d forgotten.
    She jerked her chin from Freddie’s grip. “I have nothing,” she said levelly. “Now leave me be. Or would you prey on an innocent woman?” Oh, a ridiculous question, that! This pair would prey upon any and all! “Can you not see I’m soon to give birth?” She jutted out her stomach so that her girth protruded