The Bride Wore Scarlet Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Paperwork for Trumbull from the Livorno office,” she said. “Letters, bills of lading, overdue accounts from some bankrupt vintner in Paris. Clarke just handed it to me.” She paused to look about. “Where is the carriage? Have you a key to the office? I want to leave this.”
    â€œI have a key, sì ,” said Signora Vittorio hesitantly. “But Burr Street was blocked. I sent the carriage round back to load your baggage.”
    â€œWell, I’ll just walk down.” Anaïs snatched up a small leather portmanteau from the top of the luggage heap, and stuffed the folio inside.
    â€œNot alone,” said Signora Vittorio.
    â€œSilly goose,” said Anaïs, smiling. “Very well, then. Bear me company. Clarke will send the trunks on to Wellclose Square tomorrow. If Putnam could just manage the three smaller bags?”
    With a few swift orders, Signora Vittorio arranged to have them carried through the dockyards to their carriage beyond. Anaïs was still holding the portmanteau just as two large men pushed past them, conversing as they made their way toward the Sarah Jane .
    Anaïs turned, her gaze following. “My God, that is the ugliest Frenchman I ever saw,” she whispered.
    â€œ Sì ,” said the signora dryly, “but the other—the tall one—ah, che bell’uomo !”
    â€œReally?” Anaïs turned, but she could see nothing save their backs now. “I didn’t get a good look.”
    â€œAnd a pity for you,” said the signora in a low, appreciative voice. “For I saw him. And I am old, cara , but not dead.”
    Anaïs laughed. “Ah, but I have learnt my lesson, Maria, have I not? That lesson one so often learns about handsome, dashing men? I don’t bother to look anymore.”
    At that, Maria’s face fell, all humor fleeing her eyes.
    Anaïs laughed again. “Oh, Maria, don’t,” she pleaded. “Giovanni would be ashamed to see these long faces were he still alive. Come on, let’s hurry. I want to go home .”
    Maria’s smile returned. Arms linked, nattering like magpies, they set off together at a surprisingly brisk clip, weaving through the remaining crates and barrels, and going out the back of St. Katherine’s quagmire and into the streets of East London.
    This was familiar territory to them both, but rarely at night. Still, as the bustle of the docks fell away and darkness settled in, neither woman was especially concerned. The fog had not obscured all the moonlight, and Maria knew Anaïs never went into the East End unprepared—or the West End, come to that.
    They soon turned into the high, narrow lane that led to Castelli’s side entrance. But they had scarcely stepped off another dozen paces when running steps pounded after them from behind. In an instant, everything became a blur. On a loud oof! Maria went hurtling sideways, slammed against an adjacent doorway, hitting so hard the doorbell within jangled.
    â€œTake that, yer haughty bitch!” In a flash, a hand lashed out at the old woman.
    â€œOh, no, you don’t!” Anaïs threw back the portmanteau and sent it slamming against the side of his head.
    Sent reeling, the assailant cursed, and set off running, turning down a pitch-dark passageway.
    â€œMy pearls!” Maria’s hand clutched at her throat. “ Sofia’s pearls!”
    But Anaïs was already off, hurtling the portmanteau aside as she went. “Stop, thief!” she shouted, moving so fast she was scarcely aware of the second set of footfalls in the distance behind.
    She caught the man in a dozen long strides, seizing him by the collar and slamming him against the front of a sailmaker’s shop. He fought hard, but she fought smart, putting her elbows and height to good use. In an instant, she had his face flat against the shop, one arm wrenched behind, a knee against his knackers, and a stiletto whipped