Free Rogue in Red Velvet by Lynne Connolly

soot. Something she hadn’t expected but should have done. So many houses belching smoke all day must produce this kind of appearance. She’d have had her house scrubbed every month but perhaps the battle was too much for the people who lived here.
    Finally, they swung up Ludgate Hill and the magnificent dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral towering majestically over the buildings clustered around it. Its classical magnificence and its sheer size dwarfed and scorned everything else around it. Breathtaking.
    She promised herself a visit there, as well as the Palace of Westminster and the Banqueting Hall, all that remained of the old palace of Whitehall, which had burned down seventy years before. Her spirits lifted at the thought, more, to her shame, than at the thought of meeting Jasper again.
    She recalled the history of London from her books, the books she’d spent the nights before her trip poring over. Anything but remembering how close Alex was to her here, how she could pay a visit and see him again. But she would not.
    How would she cope with that? From what Jasper had said in his letter, he’d started to move in those circles. She couldn’t avoid Alex. She had to steel herself to the possibility of meeting him, pretending a slight acquaintance. Anything more would appear encroaching. And the chance of seeing him with a woman, one who could claim him for her own. Perhaps he’d offer for Louisa, pretty, young and rich, everything Connie wasn’t.
    She suffered from an infatuation, she assured herself, as she had many times before. Nothing more. It would pass. It had to pass.
    * * * *
    Connie had become adept at climbing down the tiny steps of the coach on to the cobbled yard of yet another coaching inn. Except this one was the last in her journey and the last she’d need to face for some time. She felt cramped, tired and ready for bed, although it was barely four in the afternoon. Food didn’t appeal. She was too weary to eat. Not that Saxton felt the same way, if her rumbling stomach was to be believed. Connie ought to take pity on her maid.
    “Let’s eat something while we wait to hear from Mr. Dankworth.”
    Saxton nodded. “I’ll see the bags unloaded first, missus.”
    Connie had almost forgotten them.
    Saxton snagged a passing ostler by the simple expedient of grabbing the waistband of his breeches and waving a shilling under his nose. She barely came up to the man’s chest. “That trunk and that bag.”
    The man climbed up to get them down.
    Connie went inside and headed for the nearest unoccupied table.
    A man dressed in plain but serviceable clothes stopped her. “Mrs. Rattigan, is it?”
    “Why? Who wants to know?” She was dressed plainly, her pearl necklace tucked under her fichu. She could have been anyone from a shopkeeper to a lady.
    The man handed her a folded note addressed in her future husband’s handwriting.

    Dearest,
    The man who gives you this is one of my servants. You may trust him. He will take you to the Downholland’s house after you’ve eaten and refreshed yourself. I am looking forward with eager anticipation to seeing you again. We will marry as soon as possible. I can hardly wait. - J

    A brief note and to the point but Jasper’s care for her touched her. She smiled up at the man, her spirits lifting. “Yes, I’m Mrs. Rattigan.”
    “Are you alone?”
    “My maid is in the yard, supervising the luggage. She’ll join us shortly.”
    The man gave a brief nod. “There are some private parlors here. I have bespoken one of those for your comfort. If you’ll come this way, I’ll return for your maid.”
    “That sounds good.” She followed the man to the parlor, which was small and comfortable. He furnished her with a glass of wine from the decanter on the table.
    She eyed the basket of bread with more avidity than she’d imagined she could have a few moments before. Jasper’s note had relieved her growing tension and worry that she might have to fend for herself and her