My Lady Pickpocket by Allyson Jeleyne

Author:Allyson Jeleyne [Jeleyne, Allyson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allyson Jeleyne
Published: 2024-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

They climbed into the carriage, feeling the door slam shut behind them. Mark slid onto the cushioned squabs at Eliza’s side. He reached to lower the shades, cocooning them both in the dim warmth of the elegant interior. A patter of raindrops on the landau’s hood drowned out the sound of his horses’ hooves against the cobbled street.

He and Eliza had retreated to a private place, and Mark felt content to wrap his arm around her heavy-cloaked shoulders. He pulled her into the pit of his arm, nestling her against him. For a moment, they rode in silence—a welcome wordlessness after so much noise and commotion—but Eliza was rarely quiet for long.

She always had something to say, and he was eager to listen.

Her thoughts dwelled on the pickpocket she’d saved. Weeks ago, that girl had been her, starving and striving, and suffering the ravages of life on the streets of London’s West End, for the Lyric Theatre was but a ten-minute walk from her haunt in Seven Dials. She might have passed that girl on the pavements. They might’ve even competed for the same man’s purse, as it was survival of the fittest, and only the most resourceful thief succeeded. Those who failed were thrown in the gutter, and those who were caught were locked in gaol.

Eliza and her fellow delinquents feared the Metropolitan Police for good reason, yet tonight she had sided with those honest, oblivious citizens gathered on the pavements. She had prevented Miss Prevost’s bracelet from being stolen and exposed the young thief in the process.

Her loyalties were conflicted. Rightly so, Eliza struggled to reconcile her past struggles with her present life of ease.

“A fortnight of a full belly,” she said to him, “and I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be desperate. That girl was hungry, Mark. She’s probably sleeping rough, and I nearly threw her to the wolves. I am no better than she is—I’m only luckier. I picked the right pocket. Who am I to stop somebody else from doing the same?”

Dear, sweet Eliza! She felt guilty for saving Hilda’s pearls at the expense of another girl’s livelihood.

Mark pressed his lips to her temple. “It’s alright to want to protect a friend, and I know Miss Prevost is grateful for your keen eye and quick fingers,” he said. “I would’ve been cross if the girl had taken my pocket watch.” He drew the gold timepiece from his waistcoat. “It was my grandfather’s, you see.”

She examined the watch with careful, practiced hands. She could discern its monetary value with a sweep of her fingers over the case inscribed with the crest of the House of van Bergen. More importantly, she understood its worth. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is, and very dear to me.” He slipped it into his pocket, fearing that he’d been the next target in tonight’s pickpocketing spree. “Thank you for safeguarding it.”

Eliza smiled, for every action had consequences, both good and bad. She had robbed a man of his purse, and then leaped into his landau.

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