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  wine to bed.

  * * * *

  Lily woke after midnight, unsure whether she had been disturbed

  by a noise. Sophie snored softly with the effects of the mulled wine,

  her hair gleaming faintly in the moonlight streaming through the

  window. Tenderly, Lily covered her lover's exposed breasts with the

  bedclothes, keeping her warm.

  Don't want you catching your death now, do we?

  Lawrence and Rosina. She had been most remiss and selfish,

  allowing herself to get all caught up and carried away with Sophie and

  life at Freddie Bathurst's club. Ashamed, she realized that she had not

  even glanced at the scrap of paper Rosina had given her. Gingerly,

  she eased herself out of the vast, high bed, tucking the covers around

  Sophie's slumbering form. The room was cold, the little fire reduced

  to glowing embers in the grate. Quietly, she opened a wardrobe door

  and located her bag. The scrap of paper rustled as she retrieved it and

  tiptoed over to the window to read the address by the light of the

  moon.

  7 Verulam Street

  Near Gray's Inn

  That's not too far away.

  71

  Lily replaced the note in her bag and returned to bed, already

  shivering quite violently with the cold. Simply to assuage her

  curiosity, she would go to Verulam Street later in the day and hoped

  that there might be a note from Lawrence. Perhaps they had mislaid

  her address in Bloomsbury or were simply as busy as she was. It had

  only been a fortnight, after all. She cuddled up to Sophie and fell

  sound asleep. Outside, a little farther down Gower Street, a hansom

  cab moved off slowly, its horses snorting and stamping in the freezing

  night air.

  * * * *

  It wasn't easy to convince Sophie that a post-prandial walk was just

  the thing on Christmas afternoon and Lily slipped out of the house on

  Gower Street with the buxom blonde's protestations echoing down the

  stairwell.

  "You take care, darling! I don't want to have to send a police

  constable to rescue you."

  Lily smiled as she walked as briskly as she could along the icy

  pavement, elegant in a dark green wool costume and a new short fur

  cape, a surprise gift from Charlie Dunn-Keith. Sophie's gift, a pretty

  coral bracelet, was safe on her wrist, tucked beneath her glove, and

  Lily felt very glad to be alive. How things had changed in such a

  short span of time. It seemed that the gloom of Akenhead Hall had

  only served to act as a grim foil to her glittering new existence. And

  yet it could all change again. Luck was a finite commodity.

  Eventually, after a pleasant walk through the quiet streets,

  pleasantly devoid of the usual traffic, Lily arrived at Verulam Street.

  It was a narrow cul-de-sac opposite Gray's Inn and, suddenly nervous,

  she lingered by the high, redbrick wall which surrounded the tree-

  lined walks and tall solicitors' chambers of the Inn.

  Come on, my girl! You've got this far.

  Resolutely, Lily walked down Verulam Street, scanning each

  narrow doorway for number seven. At the end of one side of the

  street, the side cast into shade by the bright December sun, was a

  derelict-looking shop. Lily could just make out the faded number

  seven and an ancient sign that proclaimed, in letters almost worn away

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  with age, that the shop's tenant had once been a "fine tailor of

  distinction". Glancing about her to see if anyone was watching, Lily

  tried the door handle. It seemed to be bolted from within.

  So, how does Rosina collect her love letters?

  Baffled, Lily peered through the filthy glass, rubbing a small circle

  in the dirt with one leather gloved hand. Indistinct, menacing shapes

  loomed in the dim shop interior, including several draped tailor's

  dummies that looked like ragged headless men.

  There must be another entrance.

  Lily stepped back to look at the building. The end of the street was

  blocked by a brick wall and it seemed she'd have to scale it to gain

  access to the rear of the building. Surely Rosina didn't go climbing

  walls to fetch her secret notes.

  Certainly not when laced up as tightly as Lawrence prefers...

  Lily smiled and then jumped as she realized that something had

  moved inside the old tailor's shop. There was someone there,

  shuffling around between the macabre dummies and the abandoned

  display cases. Horrified, she watched as a hunched figure approached

  the door and slid back the bolts. Wizened fingers in grubby half-

  mittens appeared around the edge of the door and a high, crackling

  voice said, "You're early, ain't you?"

  Lily thought rapidly. The old woman appeared to be half blind.

  Perhaps she thought it was Rosina. Could she possibly pretend to be

  the young girl? The crone continued to speak in her whining, grating

  voice.

  "Don't you know it's Christmas, dearie? Got something nice for old

  Ma have you?"

  Lily had nothing to offer the old woman.

  "Cat got your tongue?"

  Lily swallowed. "Any letters for me today, ma?"

  The old woman cocked her head to one side like a bird, listening

  intently and Lily noted that her eyes were rheumy.

  "You don't sound quite yourself today, my dear. Letters? Now, let

  me see."

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  The skeletal fingers delved into an apron pocket and came up with

  an envelope. Lily reached out to take it but the old woman whisked it

  away, cackling like a witch.

  "Where's my Christmas present? Old Ma wants a plum pudding for

  her supper tonight."

  Lily delved into her purse and retrieved a shilling. She pressed it

  into the old woman's hand and the crone immediately relinquished the

  envelope.

  "That's better! You're so quiet today, my dear. I hope you're not

  sickening for something. Other than that young man of yours, of

  course."

  The hag's voice degenerated into another hoarse laugh and she

  screeched like a parrot.

  "Merry Christmas, ma." Lily tried to make her voice sound as light

  and gentle as Rosina's, then she quickly walked away, almost breaking

  into a run as she reached the end of Verulam Street. She paused in the

  shelter of the Gray's Inn wall and looked at the envelope. What had

  she done? It was Rosina's letter, not hers. Now, Rosina would think

  Lawrence hadn't written.

  Foolish girl, Lily Warnock!

  But she hadn't been expecting the old woman. The crone had quite

  unnerved her and thrown her off course.

  "Oh, dear."

  Lily spoke the words out loud. As she leaned against the wall,

  trying to decide what to do, two young men walked past, deep in

  conversation. As they passed, Lily overheard "She may have been a

  whore, Victor, but she was one of God's creatures too, damn it! Think

  of the fuss there would be if she had been a "good" girl. Every police

  force in the city'd be out looking for the monster who did it to her."

  "Let it be, Tom. Lizzie knew the risks, I'm sure. I'm sorry, Tom,

  but you've got to let it be."

  "I
wish I'd had her now. You know that? I wish I'd damn well had

  her!"

  Lily shivered. A cold draft seemed to play up and down her spine

  as she watched the two young men turn the corner onto the

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  Clerkenwell Road. Rosina should have told her about the old woman.

  She looked at the envelope, addressed in Lawrence's elegant hand.

  Miss Rosina James

  c/o 7 Verulam Street

  Holborn

  Middlesex

  Should she open it? No, that would be an invasion of her friends'

  privacy. Guiltily, she tucked the letter inside her bag, feeling

  extremely silly. Well, there was nothing else for it. She would have

  to pay a call to Sekforde Street. She'd think of some pretence to see

  Rosina and, if not slip her Lawrence's letter, at least assure her that it

  was safe. Sighing softly with relief, she followed in the young men's

  footsteps, turning right onto the Clerkenwell Road.

  75

  CHAPTER XV

  A ROUND WITH JOE JAMES

  "Merry Christmas Rosina! Surprise!"

  Lily crossed the sitting room at 37 Sekforde Street and thrust a

  large posy of chrysanthemums into Rosina's arms. The young girl

  looked startled and, to Lily's dismay, blushed a deep shade of pink.

  Rosina's parents stood before the blazing fire and smiled uncertainly

  at the strange young woman in the expensive fur cape who had just

  bestowed a floral tribute upon their daughter.

  "Why, thank you. I don't know what to say!"

  Lily smiled at Mr. and Mrs. James and noted, with satisfaction, the

  familiar up and down appraisal from the former, a pleasant looking,

  broad-chested man in his early fifties. Lily placed one gloved finger

  to her lips.

  "Don't say a word, Miss James. Remember, it's I who should be

  thanking you."

  Turning to angle the silhouette of her figure to best advantage in the

  sunlit sitting room, Lily continued.

  "Mr. and Mrs. James, you have a lovely daughter, a true Good

  Samaritan. I was crossing Clerkenwell Green just the other day when

  I tripped and turned my ankle. Dear Rosina here came to my aid and

  we had such a nice chat. I simply had to repay her kindness. Oh dear,

  I do hope I haven't disturbed your festivities."

  Lily glanced at the remains of a roast goose and bit her bottom lip

  voluptuously. The effect wasn't lost upon Mr. Joseph James who

  stepped forward and nudged Rosina on the elbow.

  "Very good of you, miss. Very good of you indeed! Say thank you

  to the young lady, Rosie."

  Rosina blushed as deeply as her name. She couldn't bear to look at

  Lily and mumbled into the flowers.

  "Thank you so much, miss. But really it was nothing."

  Lily extended one ankle from beneath her costume and wiggled it

  jauntily.

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  "Nothing? Why, I'm sure it would have been badly sprained if you

  hadn't helped me bind it with a handkerchief."

  Rather naughtily, she raised her petticoat a couple of inches to

  reveal her trim ankle, then made a coy fuss of concealing it as if

  suddenly remembering that there was a gentleman present.

  "Would you care to have a Yuletide glass of sherry with us, Miss,

  um?"

  "It's Miss Smythe. Miss Lydia Smythe. Well, perhaps a tiny glass.

  That would be lovely."

  It seemed inevitable to adopt yet another alias. Lily smiled gaily at

  Joseph James. He smiled back, a definite twinkle in his bright blue

  eyes and busied himself with the sherry decanter. Mrs. James

  gestured to the sofa and invited Lily to sit down and rest her tender

  ankle. Rosina hovered nearby, still clutching the armful of

  chrysanthemums, her uncertain face peeping over the mass of bronze

  colored blooms.

  "I'll just put these in water."

  "Good girl, Rosie. Mustn't let Miss Smythe's kind gift wilt in the

  heat from the fire."

  Lily noted that Joseph James treated Rosina like a little girl and she

  felt certain that his sensual tastes would run to spanking if given an

  opportunity. Suddenly, she felt quite aroused. The warmth of the

  room after the cold outside air, plus the initial sip of dark sweet sherry

  combined to make her feel slightly giddy. She giggled.

  "Oh dear! I'm afraid I'm not used to strong drink! But it's lovely all

  the same."

  Mrs. James looked at Lily with approval.

  "Well, I rarely touch a drop myself, Miss Smythe, but one does

  make an exception at this time of year."

  Joseph James cleared his throat and Lily imagined that the ruddy-

  cheeked man was no stranger to a few pints of porter. She thought of

  the liberal glasses of wine and champagne she tended to dispatch of an

  evening and almost blushed. Rosina was fumbling with a vase and

  soon the chrysanthemums graced the festive table. For a few minutes

  they made polite conversation, Mr. James leaning casually against the

  77

  mantelpiece in such a way that Lily could admire, from her sitting

  position, the sturdy lines of his solid torso and the definite bulge in his

  trouser front. Once, their eyes met meaningfully and she immediately

  cast her gaze down into her sherry glass in faux modesty. The clock

  on the mantel struck four and Lily stood up.

  "I must go. Mama and Papa will be missing me. Thank you so

  much for your hospitality."

  Rosina jumped up. "I'll see you down to the street, Miss Smythe."

  Lily smiled at her. "That would be lovely."

  Joseph James stepped forward.

  "No, Rosie, you help your mother clear the table. I'll walk Miss

  Smythe down. She may want a cab."

  Rosina stood transfixed, obviously accustomed to doing exactly

  what she was told. Her cheeks began to burn in confusion. Quickly,

  Lily swept across the room, clasped the young girl in an expansive

  embrace and whispered "I have your letter!" into Rosina's bouncing

  ringlets. There was no time to say anything else. Mr. James helped

  her on with her cape and she bade his lady wife and daughter a very

  happy new year to come as she was escorted out of the rooms.

  "Well now, my dear. Shall I fetch you a cab or would you like me

  to accompany you home?"

  Lily looked up at Joseph and smiled coquettishly. He had tucked

  her arm through his in a paternal gesture and she snuggled up to him,

  enjoying the feel of his powerful arms through the layers of their

  clothing. His huge hand strayed to her waist then, suddenly, he

  pushed her up against the wall of the hallway and kissed her full and

  hard on the lips.

  "Merry Christmas, Miss Smythe. Is there anything else you'd like

  old Saint Nicholas to bring you?"

  Lily placed her hands on Joseph's broad chest. They looked tiny.

  The man had the physique of a bull, average height but very heavy

  with solid muscle. She sighed as if the devil was tempting her.

  "Why, Mr. James..."

  Joseph's hands appraised her slender waist and she shivered, her

  nipples springing to attention with his masterful handling.

  78

  "Call me Uncle Joe," murmured Joseph, pressing his thickly

  whiskered mou
th against the tender place behind Lily's left ear. She

  shuddered, helpless against the potent strength of his masculinity.

  "Uncle Joe. Oh..."

  Her silk drawers were saturated with arousal. Firmly, Joseph took

  her arm, tucking it more tightly than before through his and they

  walked out into the street. Soon they found a cab and he instructed

  the driver to take them to the King's Arms.

  "A genteel sort of public house, Miss Lydia. Nothing sordid for my

  special girl."

  Lily briefly wondered what Rosina would think of her father's

  sudden absence then abandoned herself to "Uncle Joe's" passionate

  kisses. As she had suspected, he wanted her to act like an ingénue, a

  naive little girl, and she squealed in a blend of delight and dismay as

  his big hands massaged the outline of her breasts beneath the fur cape.

  "Here we are. Now, you wait quietly, like a good girl, while I

  arrange our room."

  "Yes, Uncle Joe."

  They were shown to a room at the back of the King's Arms, with

  faded floral wallpaper and a combed ceiling. When the landlord had

  left them, Joseph picked Lily up and threw her onto the bed, which

  squeaked noisily with well-worn springs.

  "Uncle Joe!"

  "Let's be having you, you little hussy!"

  He was already stripping off his clothes with a thirst that Lily had

  rarely witnessed. She removed her gloves and began to unfasten the

  bodice of her costume. She had undone a mere two buttons when

  Joseph strode over to the bed, wearing only his long johns. His cock

  pushed against the fly of his underpants, straining to be released. Lily

  looked up at him. For an older man, he was in magnificent condition,

  each muscle on his chest defined beneath a thick layer of graying hair.

  His biceps were incredible and, seeing Lily's gaze fall upon them, he

  flexed them like the strong man at the circus.

  "You're so strong, Uncle Joe!"

  "Ha! All the better to tan your naughty bare bottom, Miss Lydia!"

  79

  Lily squealed. "Oh no, Uncle Joe! Please don't spank my naughty

  bare bottom!"

  Joseph jumped onto the bed with a crash and Lily prayed that the

  bed would not go through the floor. The springs squeaked wildly.

  They wrestled for a few moments then he easily manhandled her