Christmas Charity (Fair Cyprians of London 5)

Now what could Charity do? She was frozen to the spot, Cyril’s hand caressing the inside of her arm while Hugo was being dragged backwards like an animal, his protests that Cyril had cheated drowned out by Cyril’s triumphant response that he’d had no part in the rolling of the dice and why didn’t he take it up with Lady Luck.

And just as Hugo was borne out of the double doors, Charity was swung round in Cyril’s arms, his delight at his success over his cousin prompting him to kiss her soundly on the mouth before he pushed a drink into her hand and bade her celebrate his success.

She choked on the fizzing liquid, her eyes watering, and her nose twitching which evinced a roar of delight from Cyril.

“Why, aren’t you too darling for words? You really are a novice.”

He didn’t remove his hateful grasp as he seemed to regard her with new interest. Then, taking her hand, he led her towards the doorway.

“What are you doing?” Charity squeaked.

“I’m going to reward you,” he said loudly, grinning at the gentlemen about him. “You’ve done well for me and I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

“I haven’t rewarded you. It was luck. Pure chance!” Charity cried. “I…I don’t want to leave my friends and go with you.”

“Of course, you do,” he said, his tone genial as if her protests meant nothing. Which of course they didn’t. “Here. Give them a wave. They’re Madame Chambon’s girls, aren’t they? I recognise one of them. Yes, wave to them and they can proudly report back to Madame that you’re in safe hands. In the hands of a very rich man who is very satisfied with what you have done for him tonight.” Cyril jerked his head in recognition of Rosetta and Emily who were smiling at him as if they were only too pleased for Charity.

What could she do? She stumbled down the stairs and out into the fresh air, the wind cooling her tear-stained cheeks as she tried to gather her wits. Where was Hugo? Was he all right?

Now, she was on Cyril’s arm, confused, helpless. Rosetta and Emily claimed she should go with him to discover what she could, but it was fanciful to think anything good could come of it.

Charity knew she should break free and run. Why had she not when Cyril had assisted her into her cloak in the lobby? The white street, through the doors, had beckoned and for one moment she’d entertained the thought.

But then the carriage had drawn up at the bottom of the stairs.

And there was Cyril, running lightly down the steps to open the door; waiting for her just as the strange gentleman had stood waiting for her mother more than twelve years ago.

Waiting with a smile in his eyes and

the promise of a different future.

Until Charity’s mother had tugged at Charity’s hand, turning on a sob, forcing Charity back up the stairs and into the grand country house where she worked and where she’d taken her daughter, secretly, for the day.

Leaving the gentleman whom Charity had seen kiss her mother in the shadows, just minutes before.

She remembered how strongly she’d wanted that ‘different future’ the gentleman had promised them after he’d pressed a coin into her palm.

And she remembered, too, how he’d shouted after them: “It’s your choice! If you don’t come with me now, I will never acknowledge that I have a daughter!”

Well, Charity wanted a different future, now, though she wasn’t sure this one would answer.

With sudden resolve she gripped Cyril’s arm and stepped towards the vehicle. “Where are we going?” she asked him, her breath frosting in the cold air, glad that her voice sounded stronger than she thought it might. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could be of some help to Hugo.

She rubbed her hands together to keep them warm.

Of course it was nonsense to think she could find a book of blackmail but perhaps she could find some way to appeal to Cyril if they were in private. Right now, it seemed her only chance.

“Somewhere we can be comfortable.”

“To your townhouse?”

He looked down at her as he helped her into the vehicle. “You are a fetching little thing, aren’t you? What did you say your name was?”

Charity hesitated a moment as she tried to remember the moniker agreed upon by Rosetta and Emily.

“Cathie.”

“Well, Cathie, we could go to a nice rooming house, I rather thought.”