No Place for a Lady Read Online Free PDF

cursing her all the way, and the thought made her smile grow even wider.
    She was still grinning when she shook her damp clothes by the smoky fire. All around her, the patrons cursed as drops of sleet and mud flew about her, some landing with a hiss on the fire. She neatly ducked a fist thrown out to cuff her as she scampered to the opposite comer.
    The pub was dark and dingy, filled with a sea of sweaty men and stale ale. Directly in front of her, Gilly the barmaid navigated tables, alternating curses with suggestive winks. Fantine took a moment to admire the way she handled the rough customers.
    Then Chadwick burst in.
    True to form, he did not slink in as she and all the other customers would. No, he let the wind throw open the door, gusting through his cloak so that it billowed about his large frame as he peered down his aristocratic nose at the clientele. Everyone looked up. Many began to grumble. And Fantine was hard-pressed to stifle a curse.
    Then something happened. Chadwick did not strut in like an arrogant lord. Instead, he ogled the people.
    "Are ye daft? Git out!" grumbled a thick-shouldered dockworker by the door.
    Chadwick grinned. "Ooo, how positively delightful!" he drawled, effecting a dandy's nasal tone. Then he stepped in the door, his gaze unerringly picking out Fantine as she crouched in the shadows. "Come, boy, this is perfectly delicious. Charming. Marvelously dreadful. No need to hide in the comer. Fetch me some... some ale!"
    Fantine could only gape. He was perfect! Her having told him to play a daft peer looking for some dockside excitement, he performed the role exquisitely. Which allowed Fantine to play her own part with equal nerve.
    She groaned out loud. "Damned queer, 'e is," she muttered to the nearest man. "Wants t' see the local color, 'e says. Pay good money." Then she caught the avaricious gleam in the man's eye and shook her head, her grin cocky. "Ain't no use, wot yer thinkin'. I already cleaned 'im out. 'E's got enough for 'is drink and a diddle wi' Gilly, 'at's all."
    She watched as the man narrowed his gaze, quickly evaluating the truth of her statement. Eventually he spat out a curse and turned back to his tankard of ale. Nearby, other men hunkered back down, their interest in the daft lord already gone.
    "Boy!" Chadwick called again, his voice slightly roughened, as if he were trying to assume a dockside accent. "Come along now, I am parched. Uh, now, ye bugger!" Then he grinned as if he had just said something brilliant.
    Fantine pushed herself up from the corner. "Gilly!" she called to the barmaid. "Entertain 'im fer a mite. I needs to talk wi' Ballast."
    The barmaid nodded, her hips already shifting enough to catch Chadwick's eye. Not one to miss so obvious a cue, Chadwick returned the wink and patted his lap lasciviously. Gilly grinned, barely remembering to pass her tray to Rat. "Ballast's in th' back room. Ye can take 'im 'is drink."
    The barmaid extended the tray, and Fantine rushed forward to catch it. She barely made it in time, and she held her breath while the ale sloshed, but didn't spill. Lord, but she was slow tonight. Her joints ached, and she had yet to feel her toes after her hour's wait in the bitter cold. Ten years ago, she would have laughed at such minor discomforts, but at twenty-five, she could no longer move like the wind. How long before she would be too slow to outrun her pursuers?
    She shuddered at the thought, pushing it away with the ease of long practice. Now was not the time to fight demons she could not conquer. So she straightened, pushing her way through the back door into a small, windowless room.
    "Evenin', guv'nor," she said to Ballast, who sat counting his money at a scarred desk on the opposite side of the room. Beside him stood his son, a gangly youth with greasy black hair and eyes that studied everything and everyone. Lounging against the walls were two large brutes, one on either side.
    Fantine sauntered forward, her gestures cocky as she