Love Tangle by Karla Hocker

Author:Karla Hocker
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626815742
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2014-12-05T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Sybil’s eyes narrowed as they followed Deanna and Felix to the china booth, then darted curiously about and finally alighted on a dark-skinned, youngish woman dressed in a faded carmine skirt. A black, fringed shawl hugged her shoulders, golden loops dangled from her ears, and a Brunswick blue kerchief was wrapped turban-fashion around her head, but Sybil felt certain that her hair must be long and raven-colored. A gypsy!

With a mischievous smile dimpling her cheeks, Sybil tugged at George’s sleeve. “I want to have my fortune told. Please take me over to the gypsy tent, George.”

He grinned good-naturedly. “I might have guessed that would be your first stop. But let’s wait for Deanna. I’m certain Lady Saltash would not wish for you to be separated.”

“Oh, pooh! What a dull stick you are, to be sure! You may wait for Deanna if you please; I shan’t.” Sybil twirled on her heel and walked swiftly toward the gypsy.

Before George could blink an eye, a group of giggling, simpering girls swarmed around him, brazenly ogling him and several gentlemen in the vicinity and successfully cutting off his view of Sybil. George shot a withering look at a brass-faced creature who had sidled up to him. Her kohl-painted eyes, crimson lips, and improbably golden curls proclaimed her profession as surely as a signboard would. Lightskirts! Even in broad daylight, in full view of respectable matrons and innocent young girls, these West-End comets must ply their trade!

Feeling very much put upon, George cast a harassed glance at Deanna and Felix, standing not fifteen yards from him. But they, deeply engrossed in shared laughter over some foolish mug, took no notice of their surroundings. Muttering a heartfelt oath, George dashed after Sybil, scattering the Covent Garden nuns like a flock of geese before him.

If ever there was a girl in need of schooling, he fumed, it was that minx Sybil. She needed a husband who’d take her in hand, but he was not the man to volunteer for that. If he were of a mind to marry, it would be to a strong woman like Deanna, not a giddy schoolgirl like Sybil. A dull stick, forsooth! She knew how to get under a man’s skin, that one. George caught up with Sybil as the gypsy woman invited her through the bearskin-hung opening of her tent.

“Cross my palm with silver, pretty miss,” crooned the gypsy in a throaty voice with a slight foreign inflection.

Sybil stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, there you are, George. Would you give Estella a half-crown, please? She’s going to tell my fortune.”

“Not tell your fortune, miss. I read your palm,” Estella corrected with dignity.

George placed a silver piece in the outstretched hand. “But don’t think I’ll permit you to go in there alone, Sybil,” he warned, and followed the two women promptly.

A rancid, biting odor stung their eyes and nostrils. George coughed, looking disgusted, and Sybil hastily pressed her cologne-drenched handkerchief to her nose.

“Animal hides and tallow candles.” The gypsy

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