BooksBarbecue
Back An Independent Woman Save as PDF
Chapters (44)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  34. Chapter Thirty
  35. Chapter Thirty-One
  36. Chapter Thirty-Two
  37. Chapter Thirty-Three
  38. Chapter Thirty-Four
  39. Chapter Thirty-Five
  40. Chapter Thirty-Six
  41. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  42. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  43. A word about the author...
  44. Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

Still, no blows came. Philomena opened her eyes again. Joseph, his face red, his mouth opened in a leer that displayed the full glory of a set of rotten teeth, with the familiar gap at the front, grinned at her. His breath was foul. “Now, what piece of luck is this?” he sniggered.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

Hugh, suitably dressed to visit a lady, breathed hard. His heart beat faster. He fought to stop himself running through the streets to find Philomena. He must maintain some dignity. He would see her soon and find out the truth, if he had to shake it out of the woman. Then, he would make sure she never left him again. He laughed. Philomena would doubtless tie him in verbal knots and leave him as confused as ever.

His carriage arrived. Leaping into the driver’s seat, Hugh gave the matched chestnuts their heads through the streets. He paid little heed to the mud thrown up by the curricle wheels, until a succession of oaths from passersby persuaded him to drive more temperately.

His love of driving a racing carriage at dangerous speeds was no reason to cover every unfortunate merchant or clerk in town in a spray of muddy water. Philomena would take him severely to task if she knew. He reigned in the horses and drove in a more decorous manner.

Soon, the carriage entered the less salubrious area of Spitalfields, where Philomena lived along with many other dressmakers, milliners and lace-makers. Lord Thatcham’s arrival in a spanking carriage with the family coat of arms painted on the side caused little comment. The residents were used to seeing the carriages of the wealthy arriving to discharge young ladies and their mothers for fittings.

Hugh rapped on the door at the address Selena supplied. His heart raced as the door opened, but his hopes were soon disappointed. An elderly, wizened woman squinted up at him, scratching at sparse grey hair with bony fingers.

“Miss Philomena Tailor?” Hugh enquired.

The woman looked him up and down, but her expression did not become any more cordial. “Second floor. But she’s not in.”

Hugh stopped, one foot raised to enter the lodgings. It had never occurred to him that Philomena would not be there, looking as pretty and self-possessed as ever. “When will she be back?” he enquired.

“Who knows?”

He drew himself up to his full, considerable height. “I am Lord Thatcham.” He glared. “I wish to know her whereabouts at once.”

“I’m sure you do.” The old woman regarded him from top to toe once more, unimpressed. Hugh supposed she was familiar with calls made by various gentlemen to the inhabitants of the rooms—inhabitants who often walked the fine line between respectability and disgrace.