Prologue
Miss Aimee Anderson stood off to the side of the busy inn yard with her small, battered portmanteau clutched in her left hand. She heard the carriage and turned to watch its approach. Fear curdled in her belly. The last time she stood in this spot, her dreams had been crushed by the man who’d professed to love her.
He’d lied.
The coach slowed down and entered the yard. Her heart beat faster, and she could not catch her breath. Would this decision be a mistake, too? Should she have listened to the innkeeper’s wife? The last time she had taken a chance, and believed in a dream, she had lost everything—her reputation, her self-respect…her virtue. All of it taken from her within the confines of a coach just like the one slowing to a halt in front of her.
She tried to remember the earnest expression on the handsome, dark-haired lord’s face as he swept her off her feet, declaring his love and promising to take her away from her menial existence to a live a life in the lap of luxury. But all she could recall was the menacing expression on his patrician features, and his warm, dark eyes hardening at her refusal of his offer, not of marriage, but as a kept woman—his mistress.
Abandoned and alone, she had trembled as he sneered at her, reminding her that she was now damaged goods. No one would want her if she did not accept his offer. He may have taken her virtue, but she still had what was left of her tattered pride. When she refused for the second time, he ordered his coachman to drive on as he slammed the carriage door in her face.
“Miss?”
Ruined, beyond redemption, she’d watched his carriage drive away. She had no money, nor connections, but she had a strong will to survive and was unafraid to return to the life of drudgery she had thought she could not bear.
“Miss?” The voice was louder this time.
She blinked, and her past vanished—though still in the inn yard, she was about to embark on her last chance at the life she had once dreamed of while polishing silver and changing her cousin’s bed linens.
“Are you Miss Anderson?”
Digging deep for her courage, she drew in a breath and walked over to the carriage. “Yes, I am.”
The burly man tied off the reins and stepped down from his perch atop the coach. “I’m required to verify that you are indeed the same Miss Aimee Anderson who answered the advert. Do you have the letter Mrs. Underwood sent to you?”
She reached into her reticule and pulled out the folded bit of foolscap she’d received after applying for the position and handed it to him. He examined the handwriting on the front before unfolding and scanning the letter. With a nod, he folded it and handed it back to her.
“Very good, Miss Anderson. I shall see about changing the horses for the return trip and be with you shortly. You have time for a cup of tea before we leave.”
Mouth dry, insides shaking, she licked her lips to moisten them. “Thank you for the suggestion, but I had a cup a little while ago.”
His gaze swept from the top of her head to the toes of her half boots. She wondered what possible reason he would have to study her person so closely. Mayhap it was part of his instructions when picking up newly hired shopworkers, and the reason she had dressed in her best gown, a deep gray—the color of winter storm clouds. A darker thought occurred—mayhap he wanted to ensure she did not pose a threat to his precious carriage.
Finally, he said, “You can wait inside the carriage, if you wish. I’ll let the hostler know you are inside and caution him not to jostle the carriage when changing the horses.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded and opened the door for her.
She hesitated for a brief moment, gathered her courage, and stepped into the carriage. Lowering herself onto the squabs, she was pleased to note the worn leather was quite comfortable. Wear wasn’t as important as cleanliness. The inside of the carriage was spotless. Relieved to finally be leaving her past behind her, she set her portmanteau on the seat next to her. It would be within reach, should she decide to read on the way to London.
London! she thought with a nervous smile. She was changing her life for the better…again. Aimee Anderson—the much-maligned poor relation with a tattered reputation—had had the good luck to secure a position that would not include cleaning up after her betters. She was to be employed in a fashionable merchant’s shop in London! She could not wait to begin her apprenticeship working at the milliner’s. Visions of the varied textures she would use—the ribbons, feathers, and furbelows in an array of colors—filled her. She let her mind wander, imagining what it would be like immersed in her new role, while she waited for the horses to be changed and the coachman to return.
“Ready, Miss Anderson?”
She had not realized he had been watching her through the carriage window. Unease slithered up her spine, then slid down to curl low in her belly. She bravely ignored the feeling. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”
His speculative gaze further unnerved her, but his words were innocuous, “Well then, let’s be on our way!”
The coach shifted as he heaved his considerable bulk onto the bench atop the coach. The carriage rocked as he released the brake.
She glanced out the window for a last look at the safe haven where she’d recovered from her ordeal. Working for the innkeeper and his wife had restored her faith in humanity. All at once, she noticed Mrs. Potts waving a handkerchief. “Don’t forget to write,” she called to Aimee. “Let me know you’ve arrived in one piece!”
Grateful for the woman’s kindness and protection at a time when she had needed it most, she replied, “I will!”
Aimee continue to watch the innkeeper’s wife waving. The coachman guided the carriage onto the main road, and the team picked up the pace. Still, she watched until Mrs. Potts was an indistinct speck in the distance. With the crack of the coachman’s whip, the team responded, picking up even more speed.
With a prayer in her heart, she whispered, “For better or worse, London, here I come!”
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