It was a double blow. The two men who should have given her the greatest support had pulled any foundation for future happiness from beneath her feet.
With a gasp, Kitty spun around, avoiding Nash’s outstretched arm and his plea to believe him. Gathering up her train in a bundle, she pushed past her father who tried to grip her hand in passing, but she tugged herself free, picking up her skirts, running only faster as she heard the cries behind her to stop.
Stop? For what? For whom? Her father who had given her nothing except a lineage to be ashamed of? For Nash who claimed to love her but who had deceived her?
“Kitty, come back! Believe me—”
Believe him? She could never believe anyone again. Vaguely, she glimpsed Lord Silverton’s shocked expression as he, too, rose from the pew.
Kitty didn’t stop. She fled into the street, nearly slipping on the slick cobbles, righting herself and plunging beneath the hooves of a passing hackney. Regaining her footing, she hastily snatched up the part of her train that had fallen in the mud, and continued her mad dash along the pavement, coming alongside the carriage which she saw had slowed.
The door opened, and a face peered out. “Miss, do yer need ‘elp? Why, if it ain’t Kitty La Bijou. Lawks, get in, girlie! Yer look like yers fleein’ from the divil, yer do!”
Kitty could hear running footsteps behind her, gaining, and with a surge of effort, she gripped the woman’s outstretched hand as the carriage continued its progress. For a few seconds, she sailed through the air as her feet left the ground.
Then she was dragged into the carriage, the door was slammed shut, and she was half lying across the seat, her eyes closed as she drew breath at last.
“Mrs. Mobbs!” she exclaimed when she blinked. “Good heavens! What are you doing here?”
“More to the point, what are yer doin’ runnin’ through the streets o’ London in a weddin’ dress, if me eyes don’t deceive me, an’ wearin’ the finest ruby necklace I ever did see.”
“Lord Nash gave it to me...the day he asked me to marry him.” Her voice caught, and miserably she dropped her head to look at her hands, unadorned by his wedding ring and not likely to receive one, ever again.
“I know that, me dear.”
Kitty jerked her head up. “You know it?”
Mrs. Mobbs nodded. “Yer’ve jest run away from the church, ‘aven’t yer? Found out that ‘e bought it from Maggie Montgomery fer a very reasonable sum, eh, an’ didn’t like the fact ‘e still enjoys visitin’ some o’ the girls?” She shrugged. “Not that ‘e’s done it fer a very long time. Not since the night ‘e bought the ruby necklace, in fact. Said ‘e were givin’ up other women forever, now he’d found yer.”
Mrs. Mobbs leaned across to pat Kitty’s shoulder in a motherly fashion. “There, told yer the truth ‘bout how ‘e feels, so now yer can go back if yer wants. Always did ‘ave a soft spot for yer, girlie.”
Kitty stared, feeling even worse after her supposedly bolstering speech. “He bought it from a...brothel?”
“Don’t reckon Maggie likes her ‘stablishment referred to in such terms,” Mrs. Mobbs said, warningly. “Now, if yer don’t want ter go back ter the church, yer can come wiv me, for yer can’t say I didn’t get yer a chance ter get yer way wiv ‘is Lordship after all.”
The carriage had drawn to a halt down a side street, and Mrs. Mobbs was reaching down on the floor for what Kitty now saw was a tiny baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes and sleeping soundly.
“’Ere, yer take it,” the woman said, cupping Kitty’s elbow and leading her through a door. “It’s a good little ‘un, this ‘un is. Borned of a poor scullery maid, she were, so Maggie Montgomery’s goin’ to find the bonny lad a nice spot in the country. I jest bin to pick ‘im up. That’s right, warm yerself by the fire.”
It was only then, and the recognition of the wide-eyed scullery maid who was passing with a pail of water, that Kitty realized she was in Maggie Montomery’s establishment. Horrified, she looked about her, still clutching the baby, which she thrust into Mrs. Mobbs’ arms.
“Why have you taken me here? I must go!”
“I ain’t taken yer anywhere. I jest gave yer a carriage ride to save yer from certain individuals yer were fleein’ from. No need ter accuse me o’ sommat I ain’t done,” Mrs. Mobbs defended herself. “Ah, Maggie, look who I picked up. And it were more than jest the babe.”
With her heart in her mouth, Kitty stared between the two women: Mrs. Mobbs, slatternly as ever with her greasy hair spilling out from her filthy mob cab, and her enormous breasts spilling out of the top of her print gown; and Mrs. Montgomery, magnificently upholstered, her icy gaze lit up with unusual warmth as she purred, “Kitty La Bijou. We meet at last. Your exploits are legendary, and you have caused me more than a little trouble lately with regard to a certain ruby necklace which I see you happily still have in your possession.” She looked at Kitty’s muddy slippers, the torn netting of her embroidered train, and her grubby gloves and made a sympathetic tutting noise.
“It’s clear you need to rest, my poor girl. Follow me, and I shall find you a room ...while we decide what to do with you.”
Chapter Twenty-five
It was thanks to Dorcas that Silverton had any idea of where to set his footsteps. She was the fleetest of foot, initially, but then she’d been carrying her mistress’s train, and her heart was no doubt in accord with Kitty’s.
Nevertheless, when Silverton reached the corner where Dorcas was staring into the distance, and they had long since left Lord Nash and his father and Kitty’s father behind, the young maid turned to him with real fear in her eyes.
“That were Maggie Montgomery’s carriage,” she whispered. “I recognized the faded insignia. She got it cheap from one o’ ‘er clients. When the door opened I saw the blue velvet upholstery, too. Miss Kitty’s gone and bin took by Maggie Montgomery.”
Silverton was shocked, but by no means as downcast as Dorcas.