Precious Bones Read Free Page A

while Connie took the opportunity to study him from under her lashes.  He was around twenty-five, with dark blond hair falling to his shoulders, slanted blue eyes and high cheekbones.  His goatee hid his lips, but she was pretty sure he was smiling.  He was dressed like a gentleman and a fat, tear-drop pearl hung front his left ear, swinging as his head moved.  Suddenly he looked up at her.
    “Please forgive my lack of manners.  My name is Richard Carlisle.”  With that he swept off his plumed hat and bowed to Constance. 
    “Constance Thorne,” Connie replied.  She would have curtsied, but her ribs were too badly bruised.
    “Mistress Thorne, please allow me to escort you home.  My carriage is just in the next street.”  Connie was about to protest, but she was too shaken to contemplate going home on her own, and he seemed trustworthy enough, although Tom would berate her for compromising her reputation by getting into the carriage with a strange man.   Mr. Carlisle could see her doubts, and he rushed to reassure her.  “I will ride with the coachman, so no impropriety can be implied.”
    “Thank you, sir.  That’s most kind of you.”  Connie allowed herself to be escorted to the carriage, and sank down on the cushioned seat gratefully as the carriage began to move toward Blackfriars.   She thanked her rescuer again as he escorted her to the door, and walked into the house.  Pippa came running out of the parlor looking pale and worried.
    “Where have you been?  I lost you in the crowd.  I was afraid you were hurt.”  She saw Connie’s bruised hand and grimace of pain as she sat down on a chair.  “Was that a carriage I saw outside?”  She ran to the window, but the carriage was already gone.
    “I nearly got trampled by the mob, but a gentleman helped me and offered to escort me home.  He rode with the coachman,” she added hastily as Tom walked into the room.    Since the death of their parents, Tom had become the head of the family, and he took his responsibilities very seriously.  He rarely had to worry about Connie, but Pippa was a constant source of concern.  Being the youngest, she had always been spoiled by their parents and she grew up to be wayward and reckless.  Tom was always worried she would do something to betray their secret, and he was making discreet inquiries among their acquaintances regarding a position for her.  They could use the extra income, and working for a respectable family would keep Pippa out of trouble.
    “Oh, stop fussing, Tom.  Tell me about the gentleman, Connie.  Was he handsome?  With a carriage like that it almost doesn’t matter,” she giggled.  Pippa danced around the room, frustrating poor Tom even further, but Connie just laughed.  She was so good -natured that you couldn’t stay angry with her for long.

 
    Chapter 6
     
    Richard sat back in the carriage and looked out the window as he rode toward Whitehall Palace.  It was slow going as the wheels kept sinking into deep mud, which was mixed with muck caused by the melting snow.  His presence at the hanging had not been accidental and the only reason he saw Constance Thorne fall under the feet of the mob was because he had been watching her.   He had spent the past few years working for Secretary Francis Walsingham as an agent in his spy network, and he was stalking his target when the brawl broke out.   Most days Richard was proud of what he did, but today wasn’t one of them.  He told himself that it was all in the name of Queen and country, but spying on two young girls left him feeling soiled and disenchanted.  
    The Thornes weren’t actually suspected of anything yet, but Walsingham believed they might lead Richard to bigger fish.  The family hid their devotion to popish rituals, and was staunch Catholics.  That within itself wasn’t a crime, not yet anyway, but people like that invariably led to people who did more than pray.  Many Catholics hid priests coming