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Back The Shoe Queen
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. “And may I say, those shoes are adorable.”
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. ( I )
  7. ( one )
  8. ( two )
  9. ( three )
  10. ( four )
  11. ( five )
  12. ( six )
  13. ( seven )
  14. ( eight )
  15. ( nine )
  16. ( ten )
  17. ( II )
  18. ( eleven )
  19. ( twelve )
  20. ( thirteen )
  21. ( fourteen )
  22. ( fifteen )
  23. ( III )
  24. ( sixteen )
  25. ( seventeen )
  26. ( eighteen )
  27. ( nineteen )
  28. ( IV )
  29. ( twenty )
  30. ( twenty-one )
  31. ( twenty-two )
  32. ( twenty-three )
  33. ( twenty-four )
  34. ( V )
  35. ( twenty-five )
  36. ( twenty-six )
  37. ( twenty-seven )
  38. ( twenty-eight )
  39. ( twenty-nine )
  40. VI
  41. ( thirty )
  42. ( thirty-one )
  43. ( thirty-two )
  44. ( thirty-three )
  45. ( thirty-four )
  46. ( VII )
  47. ( thirty-five )
  48. ( thirty-six )
  49. ( thirty-seven )
  50. ( thirty-eight )
  51. ( thirty-nine )
  52. ( forty )
  53. ( forty-one )
  54. ( forty-two )
  55. ( VIII )
  56. ( forty-three )
  57. ( forty-four )
  58. ( forty-five )
  59. ( forty-six )
  60. ( forty-seven )
  61. ( forty-eight )
  62. ( forty-nine )
  63. ( fifty )
  64. ( fifty-one )
  65. Acknowledgments
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. Questions for Discussion

Genevieve knew she had lovely legs: shapely calves and slender ankles, with the finest and most delicate of bones. Her feet were small, her arches superb (she’d been told many times that she should have been a dancer with arches like that), and her toes pretty and correctly sized, running in a gentle slope from largest to smallest. Her stockings were all of the finest silk, and today’s were no exception—the seams ran absolutely straight up the backs of her legs. She was still wearing the Sebastian York snakeskin shoes, and she could almost hear those snakes hissing in delight at her cleverness as she stepped closer to the iron grille covering that tiny basement window. Zachari chose his clients like you might choose a piece of fruit, that was what she’d heard. Because he liked the look of their feet. Well, any true connoisseur would be incapable of ignoring a pair of feet like these….

For a time, she simply stood there, with her shoes and ankles in full view of the window. Then she paced a little, back and forth. The evening was growing colder, and she drew her fox fur stole closer around her neck, feeling self-conscious and praying to herself that nobody was watching her from any concealed window high up in one of the neighboring buildings. She walked some more, wondering how long it would take for Zachari to glance up.

She paced and paced, counting quietly to herself, allowing her heels to knock against the grille, making a clanging sound that he might be able to hear from inside. Anything to get him to look.

She thought about Robert arriving home from his evening out and wondering where she was, perhaps giving up on her and going to bed. Then her thoughts moved to her father. He wasn’t well, so Mummy said in her latest letter. His bronchitis had been bad, and he’d been almost three weeks in bed. Her mother was patently hoping she would come and visit, but the very thought of that silent house and its miserable inhabitants made her shudder. Chances were the whole thing was a ruse to try to trick her into coming home. It was typical of her mother. If Daddy was seriously ill, someone would telephone. The ever-reliable Doctor Peters, perhaps. Lady Ticksted was odd about illness in general, and had spent a good page of the letter fretting pointlessly about Genevieve’s own health. The fretting made her furious—she could hear that whining voice, see the hands twisting around each other. “There is nothing wrong with me,” she wrote in her reply. “There was never anything wrong with me.” And then, “Give my love to Daddy. I’m sure he’ll be on his feet again soon.”