The Virgin Who Ruined Lord Gray - Anna Bradley Page 0,10
way silently through the haphazard rows. Some of the mausoleums were still intact, their crosses straight, the statues of the Virgin still safe in their recessed nooks, holding court over the dead. But as she passed into the older part of the graveyard the carefully tended plots gave way to weeds strewn with bits of crumbled stone, the once-smooth marble now marred by damp, mossy cracks.
She paused when she reached a derelict white marble crypt, its iron door hanging partway across the arched entryway, teetering on its broken hinges. For an instant she was tempted to squeeze past the ruined gate and duck inside to hide from her pursuer, but if he happened to see her and follow her inside, she’d be trapped, and at his mercy.
So, she crept on. The scent of soil and decay rose into the air in the wake of her footsteps, but Sophia didn’t pause to remark it, nor did she look behind her, even when the heavy thud of his footsteps brought him so close, she imagined she could feel his hot breath on her neck.
Panic hovered on the edges of her consciousness, but she resisted the urge to bolt. She kept her gaze fixed on the street beyond the graveyard until she made it there by sheer force of will. She didn’t allow herself to think about how far she’d come, or how far she still had to go, but simply kept moving, ducking down narrow alleyways and pulling out every trick she’d ever learned to evade a pursuer.
This man, though, was no ordinary pursuer. He seemed to know every hidden alcove and crevice in London as well as she did, and his determination to catch her never flagged, his long legs easily closing whatever distance she managed to put between them.
But this wasn’t a game of distances. It was a game of cunning and stealth, and Sophia excelled at both. He was faster than she was, but she was wilier in the way of the pursued, who generally had a great deal more to lose than their pursuer.
Slowly, steadily she made her way to Beak Street, and from there to Kingly, then north as far as Tenison Court until Regent Street appeared before her, wide and open. Just to the west was Maddox Street, temptingly close, where Lady Clifford would be waiting for her, and Sophia might squeeze into Cecilia’s bed with Georgiana and Emma.
She paused in the shadows of a building at the corner of Beak and Regent Streets, listening, but it had been some time since she’d heard the echo of his footsteps behind her. Was it possible she’d lost him earlier, closer to Golden Square, or was he still there, lurking in the darkness, waiting for her to come out of hiding?
She was close, so very close. Her throat ached with a desperate yearning to be safely at home, but she’d made it this far by suppressing her reckless instincts and letting caution and good sense guide her steps.
No unnecessary risks, Sophia.
She crept from her hiding place and dashed across Regent Street, her heart pounding and her harsh breaths echoing in her ears. As soon as she reached the other side, she ducked into the shadows again and crouched down, shivers darting down her exposed back as she waited for a heavy hand to land on her shoulder, a palm to cover her mouth, a deep, masculine voice to curse in her ear.
But when she dared to look behind her, there was nothing. No pursuer in a billowing black cloak. No ghosts, no bloody daggers, no Gothic villain. No aristocrat with one glove, scarred hands, and glittering gray eyes.
Regent Street was deserted.
Sophia didn’t move, but remained crouched in the gloom, gulping at the air, one breath after another until her heart ceased its panicked thrashing. Then she rose on shaking legs and dashed down New Burlington Road to Savile Row, then to Mill Street, and from there—finally, finally—to Maddox Street.
It wasn’t until she was mere steps from the entrance of the Clifford School that she realized she’d made a mistake.
A dreadful, dreadful mistake.
She saw his shadow first, ghostly and terrifying and growing more enormous against the white brick wall with every step he took toward her.
Sophia stared at him, dumb with shock.
No, it was impossible he could have known she was coming here, except somehow, he had known. She hadn’t lost him near Golden Square. He’d gotten by her without her noticing, and he’d been here all along, waiting