A Woman Made for Sin (16 page)

It was Evette’s turn to be shocked. “The
docks
? Is Madame Sasha aware of this?”

“She is.”

“Then she is sending you to your doom. ’Twould never work. It would be hard enough
pretending to be a servant around nobles, but the docks? Nothing about you would persuade
anyone to believe you belonged there. Your dress alone is going to make it difficult
convincing the innkeeper we are related. The docks are dangerous and the men who work
them even more so.”

“I have no choice.”

“Then find one. Go home and hire one!” Evette retorted. Millie’s silence compelled
Evette to lean forward, this time not from hostility but from genuine concern for
another human being. “A decent woman doesn’t work down there. Not safely, she don’t.
I know I wouldn’t. And you being so little, well, there’s no chance you’d survive.”

True concern was staring at her and it rattled Millie, but it did not dissuade her
from her cause. “Do you remember my friends Lady Jennelle and Lady Aimee?”

Evette nodded. Madame Sasha had never worked as a seamstress for either of them, but
they had attended most of Millie’s fittings. Like Millie, they had been kind and surprisingly
respectful to everyone in the house. Even Stuart liked them, saying one time that
Aimee was quite the flash for a noble.

“Well, Aimee’s life may be in danger. The three of us went aboard one of my husband’s
ships one night, and before Jennelle and I could stop them, some men grabbed her.
No one knows who has her or where she went. But I saw them and I saw the pinnace she
left in. Someone on the docks has to know which ship it belongs to, but they are not
going to talk to anyone who isn’t one of them. It may be dangerous and hard, and I
may have a lot to learn, but
I will do whatever I must to find my friend
.”

Evette found herself speechless. Some seamen had taken Aimee? It was hard to believe,
but it explained much. Why Madame Sasha had not only agreed to help, but expected
Evette to as well. But understanding the reason why Millie wanted her help did not
make it any less of a hopeless mission.

“This is it,” Evette said wearily as the carriage rolled to a final stop for the night.

Millie nodded and reached into her bag. Feeling cool metal beneath her fingertips,
she pulled the small pistol out before concealing it under her cloak. Seconds later
she heard a thump as Bernard hopped down from his seat. He opened the door and then
moved to meet with the hostler to discuss the horses and where to put the carriage
for the night.

Evette emerged from the carriage first, stretching her stiff limbs, uncaring of the
rain, just thankful to be able to move. An hour into their journey it had begun to
rain, slowing their progress. The muddy roads forced them to stop twice more than
anticipated. They had seventy more miles before they reached London, and even if the
weather improved, tomorrow would be a very long day.

Millie stuck her head out of the carriage and craned her head to look at the sign
waving in the wind. “Inn” was all it said. Nondescript, just like the building as
well as the rest of the small town it was nestled in. Millie gracefully stepped out
of the hack and saw Evette staring at her, shaking her head. “What is wrong?”

Evette walked up close and whispered, “You cannot help it, can you? Being graceful.
Even exiting a carriage you move like you are a duchess. No one with my background
could ever walk like you do.”

Millie shook her head. “With practice they could, but you are right to bring the discrepancy
to my attention. What must I do to better conform?”

Evette grimaced. It would be impossible for her ladyship to shun the elegance she
naturally exuded, just as it would be for her to change the way she spoke. Best they
could do was to avoid people. “Step into the mud to cover your shoes and then shuffle
your feet,” she finally instructed, “and let me do the talking. Stay covered as much
as possible. Your cloak is far too nice to belong to a farmer’s daughter, but at least
it has mud on it.” Evette was about to head inside when she stopped and added, “And
whatever you do, keep your head down. Keep your eyes on the floor. If someone gets
even one glimpse of your violet eyes, they will remember them.”

Evette went to the door and paused to square her shoulders. It was then that Millie
realized just how nervous Evette was, and that she had reason to be. If anyone suspected
any element of the truth, there could be trouble. Millie gave her an encouraging smile.
“You will do fine, Evette.”

Evette locked gazes with Millie. “I hope you are right,” she whispered, and added
sharply, in an effort to build her courage, “Remember, face and
eyes
down till we reach our room.”

Millie pulled up the hood on her cloak so that it completely covered her dark hair
and most of her face. She then tilted her head down so that she could only see the
hem of Evette’s dress and the heels of her moving feet as she entered the front room
that also served as a dining area. Several tables were squeezed together, but only
the ones closest to the large fireplace were occupied.

“Is Mr. Stokes here?” Evette asked in a crisp, businesslike voice.

Millie heard the footsteps of a heavyset woman approach them. “Eh? I’m Mrs. Stokes.
What ye two be needin’?” Millie couldn’t see the woman who owned the booming voice
but envisioned a large-busted woman with yellow frizzy hair.

Evette looped her arm through Millie’s and advanced a couple of steps. “My cousin
and I are on our way to Bristol, and my father told me to ask for the best room you
have available for the night.” Evette’s voice sounded earnest and held no hint of
deception. Millie knew then that Evette might be nervous about lying, but she was
also fairly experienced at it.

“Where are ye from, lass? Why are ye an’ yer sister travelin’ without yer father?”
Millie heard Mrs. Stokes ask.

Evette squeezed Millie’s arm and answered, “My
cousin
lives with me just outside of Portsmouth. Our grandmother is gravely ill and has
asked for us to tend her during her last days. My father is busy preparing for harvest
and has sent us on ahead. He told me specifically to stop at the Andover Inn and ask
for Mr. and Mrs. Stokes. Said that you were really nice to him once and had excellent
food and that you would take good care of us.”

Mrs. Stokes took her time replying. “A room for the two of ye, plus the care of your
animals, will cost ye a sixpence.”

Evette hesitated just long enough to be believed and then pulled out a little purse.
She dropped all the coins into her hand, making sure that the woman could see she
held two sixpence, three farthings, and a single halfpenny. No half crowns, not even
a shilling. Millie knew then that Evette wanted the woman to realize they could pay
her demands, but they were not worth robbing.

Evette nodded and dropped the coins back into her bag. Then she moved closer to the
woman and whispered, “He also bade me to tell you not to worry. We both sleep with
pistols and are excellent shots, so you’ll be getting your money when we leave.”

Millie almost started coughing at Evette’s brilliant performance. With one short comment,
she had flattered the woman into giving them probably the nicest room of the establishment
and then ensured their safety with her bit about being good with pistols. Millie almost
thought they were free when she heard Mrs. Stokes snort in disbelief. “Excellent shot,
ye say? Including this one ’ere? Yer cousin can’t even lift an eyebrow up to greet
me an’ say ’ello. I doubt she could hit a pot if it was three feet in front of her.”

Millie carefully pulled back a piece of her cloak and quietly aimed across the room
at a large black cauldron hanging in the hearth. A second later a click was heard,
followed by a clang and the hiss of steam as the bullet hit the heated pot, causing
it to rock and spill some of its contents into the fire. The three men eating close
to the hearth immediately jumped to their feet, but Mrs. Stokes waved for them to
sit down. She swallowed loudly and Millie wished she could look up and see if the
crotchety woman’s eyes were popping out of her head.

“Right then,” Mrs. Stokes said, clearing her throat before moving out of the front
area and back toward the staircase. “Well, seeing as ye are together, I’ll give ye
girls the room at the top of the stairs. It’s not me best. That one’s on the other
side an’ already taken. But this one’s clean an’ it’s the quietest. Breakfast will
be served in the morning an’”—the woman paused midsentence to turn around—“I’m adding
a thruppence to yer tariff for a new pot.”

Evette reached out and stopped the woman before she continued moving toward the stairs.
“As you can see, my cousin is not only a good shot, but very shy. I’ll give you your
thruppence plus two farthings more if you deliver dinner and breakfast to the room.”

“Hmph,” was all that Millie heard but assumed when Evette remained silent that Mrs.
Stokes had nodded in agreement. A moment later she heard the creak of Mrs. Stokes’s
weight climbing the very narrow staircase. Then Evette went up and Millie followed.

They went up one flight and down a long hall, when Mrs. Stokes stopped at a door and
opened it for Millie and Evette to enter. “As I said, it’s clean. I’ll send my girl
up with some food and your bags.”

Evette gave her a quick thanks before closing the door. Millie waited until she heard
Mrs. Stokes’s heavy retreating steps before lifting her head. She immediately removed
her cloak and began to twist her neck several different ways, surprised how painful
it was to look down for such a long time. “Evette, however Madame Sasha found you,
I can see why she never let you go. You are indeed a treasure.”

Evette smiled, unable to pretend she was unaffected by the ebullient praise. “Your
shot was most excellently placed and timed as well, my lady.”

“Ellie.” Millie sighed.

Evette pursed her lips and then nodded, removing her own cloak. “Ellie. That is very
close to what your friends call you, is it not?”

Millie nodded, untied the laces on her once simple but pretty half boots, and then,
using her toes, slipped each one off. “It is, but I am hoping that by keeping it close
enough to my real name I will remember to respond to it. Besides, my middle name is
Elizabeth. Somehow it seems less of a deception.”

Evette raised a single brow at the rationalization but kept quiet. Instead, she followed
Millie’s lead and took off her own shoes and sat down to warm her feet by the small
fire.

“Do you think we will still make it to London tomorrow?” Millie asked, joining her.

“Bernard will get us there, though it might be later than he had hoped,” Evette said
reassuringly.

Millie put her palms on the floor behind her and leaned back. “Evette, why is it that
you rarely spoke to us when the three of us would come to Madame Sasha’s?”

“Why speak if there is no need?” Evette countered.

Millie disregarded the question. “I think it is because as soon as you speak it is
clear that you are educated.”

Evette clenched her jaw. “Imagine, my lady, that if I find it challenging to hide
my origins, how difficult you will find it.”

“I have no intention to hiding my education. As you just said, it would be pointless.”

Evette slowly turned her head so that she could stare quite pointedly at Millie. “How
do you intend to be welcomed by
dock workers
who know that you come from a place of wealth?”

Millie held Evette’s stare for some time before shifting her gaze to the fire. “I
will tell them I was a governess.”

Evette bit her tongue to keep from laughing, as it was clear Millie was serious. “Being
a governess may explain your mannerisms and speech, but it would not explain why an
educated woman would seek work near the docks.”

“Then I will be a widow who once was a governess.”

Evette shook her head. “The poor who make their home on the docks are going to devour
you whole.”

“Do not worry about me, Evette. I can defend myself, if necessary. But I am far more
interested in your story. Where are you from? How did you receive your education?
And how did you come to live with Madame Sasha?”

Evette rose to her feet. “My story is far from unusual and therefore quite uninteresting.”

Millie was about to protest when there was a knock on the door. Evette motioned for
her to turn around, then answered it. A girl, close to their own age, entered carrying
a tray with a half a loaf of bread, two bowls of stew, and two mugs of port, a bitter-tasting
dark beer brewed from brown malt.

The moment the girl left, Millie got to her feet and went over to the small table
where the girl put the tray of food. Evette was already there, picking up one of the
bowls and a mug. She went back to sit in front of the fire. Pulling off a piece of
the bread, Millie dabbed it into one of the bowls of stew. After taking a bite, she
went and sat by Millie. “Mmm, the stew is actually very tasty.”

Evette was about to answer when there was another knock on the door. With a sigh,
Evette put her bowl back down and went to open the door, only to see the girl again,
this time holding out two bags—one an obviously expensive portmanteau. Evette doubted
the girl even recognized what she was carrying, for the thin face held an expression
Evette knew overly well. Exhaustion. Closing the door, she put the bags down and then
joined Millie again by the hearth to eat.

Licking her lips, Millie swallowed the piece of bread she was chewing and said, “I
really am interested.”

Evette shook her head and took another bite of stew. After a minute of silence, she
exhaled and said, “If you insist. My mother was a governess. She was the one who taught
me grammar and the little that I do know. My father worked in a shop that made the
cast-iron pipes used to channel the gas to light lamps and burners. When I was thirteen,
she got sick and died. My father took to the drink. He was not a mean drunk like some,
but he was not a smart one either. He soon lost his job and it wasn’t long after that
we lost our home and were on the streets. One day I went to find us food as I always
did, but when I came back he was gone. I haven’t seen him since.”