Page 49 of A Duke's Keeper
No wonder Madam stayed so well informed.
“Any idea what he wants?” Camille asked. The rookeries had seen a rise in missionaries and priests along with the rush of inhabitants, young men fresh from the seminary who came with bright intentions and pure speeches of love and compassion, only to leave with haunted expressions, their belief in a higher power disillusioned by the ugliness of the real world. “Another representative of the church, maybe?”
Syd shrugged, the subject only as interesting as the possibility of intrigue and violence. “He’ll leave soon enough. They all do.”
Camille didn’t mistake the envy in the girl’s voice. “But not us?” Syd was young, bright, skilled, and beautiful. As a child,she’d shown a proficiency for music that had bordered on prodigy. If any of them could make something of themselves, Syd could.
“The day I accepted the streets as my home, I became vermin to this world. You know better than anyone, Cam,” she said, her smile dark. “None of us can escape our birth or past, no matter how much we may wish to.”
The pessimistic and altogether truth of her statement tore at Camille’s heart. It was women—still a girl, really—like Syd who would benefit from a home for girls and women. But for others. For Syd, Camille’s dream was three years too late.
“There’s still time.” The words were for them both. “Someday, someone will come along and make a difference for the better.”
Syd’s grin held nothing of the carefree life of a young woman. “You’re too smart to believe that, genius.”
“Even geniuses can dream.”
“Hmm. Do those dreams include a certain gentleman?”
Most decidedlynotwishing to discuss Renard, Camille gritted her teeth. “No.”
“No? You looked rather chummy last night when I came to check on you.”
Camille stopped and gave her friend a hard look. “You’re spying on me?”
Syd continued on, and Camille was forced to follow.
“Don’t look so irate. I’ve taken over that section for patrol so I can keep an eye on you, as promised.”
Camille’s anger burnt itself out, the emotion replaced with something strange and disconcerting. “You overheard us?”
“Only the last bit when he asked you to come away with him.” Syd huffed. “I hope you realize how hard it was for me to hold my tongue when you turned him down.”
“So... you think I should have gone with him?”
Syd glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “You’re asking my opinion instead of rejecting the idea outright? My, you must be in love.”
Camille tripped in surprise and caught herself before she fell on her face. “What? That’s ridiculous!”
“No,” Syd said. “What’s ridiculous is you pretending like you haven’t completely changed since you met him, for the better, I might add. Questioning, moody—you might be human, after all.”
Emotions piled one on top of another until Camille couldn’t decipher anything she was feeling. “If this is what it’s like to be human, I’ll pass.”
Syd laughed.
Their discussion waned as they turned from Church Street to Church Lane, silently agreeing to avoid proximity to High Street and beyond in case the constables had decided to patrol the main roads for prostitutes. The repeal of the Contagious Diseases Act years ago had led to less and less detention of women under the guise of checking for disease, but some of the older officers kept to the practice with personal satisfaction. Even with her modest neckline and combination of shawl and bonnet to identify her as a woman of the working class, at this late hour, no one would believe she was innocently walking home.
The tension in the air shifted again, and the welcoming warmth of easy banter was replaced with cold silence that matched the night air.
Camille’s steps slowed. Her hand slipped into the pocket of her skirt to grip the letter opener.
Syd drew her hood up and disappeared and reappeared as she wove in and out of the shadows provided by the sunken doors of the homes and shops along the alley.
The short stroll from Phoenix Street to Plumbtree was endless, the growing sense of danger thick enough to cut.Crossing over a deserted Broad Street, Camille breathed a sigh of relief when her home came into view with the usual washing and bric-a-brac left in the door by her neighbors. She’d retracted her hand from her skirts when Syd shot in front of her.
“Don’t look,” she said.
Camille angled a glance over Syd’s shoulder and stilled.
