The Heiress Gets a Duke - Harper St. George Page 0,2

underlying meaning in her hesitance to answer, Violet glanced over at her. “Our parents would never do that . . . would they?”

For the first time in her life, she lied to her sister. “The Crenshaws have no need for a duke in the family.”

If August said it with enough conviction, it was bound to be true.

Chapter 1

Independence is happiness.

Susan B. Anthony

LONDON

APRIL 1875

Sneaking out for a late-night assignation had not been on August’s London itinerary. Yet here she was in a hired carriage being whisked through the dark streets of the city at midnight.

“Don’t look so vexed . . . please?” Camille managed to appear contrite from her side of the hansom cab. Her wide brown eyes took on a faintly desperate glow that went a long way toward soothing August’s temper.

But, really, how could Camille expect her not to be irritated? She had arrived unannounced at the Crenshaws’ rented townhome off Grosvenor Square not a quarter hour ago, looking fairly pitiful as she’d pleaded with August to come with her. The entire time she had refused to say where they were going, only that August must come this instant. August had only agreed to put away the financial reports she had been poring over because the girl had appeared so wretched and dispirited. Now she found herself traveling at a breakneck speed through the streets of a city she barely knew while hoping for the best.

“That’s asking a lot,” August said.

The brightness of Camille’s smile shone through the murky darkness. “But you’ll do it because you’re such a good friend.”

August rolled her eyes and settled against the lumpy seat. The streets were growing noticeably darker. The cheerful and dependable gas lamps that lined the lanes of Mayfair had long since disappeared. Streetlamps here were spaced farther apart, and most of them didn’t work anyway. The buildings appeared to be actively crumbling before her eyes as they passed. Worse, down the alleyways she caught glimpses of open fires with shadows huddled around them. Wherever they were going, it did not appear to be in a safe area. She’d been naive to assume that Camille wouldn’t take them off to somewhere dangerous.

“Very well.” August sighed. “But please tell me where we’re going. And why am I wearing this?” Camille had presented August with a black cloak identical to her own as she’d ushered her out the servants’ entrance. She had assumed it was to hide them as they made their escape; now she wasn’t so sure that was the only reason.

“Never.” Her friend’s mischievous smile returned, reminding August of the child that she still was in many ways. Despite her misgivings, August was relieved to see it.

When the invitation had come from Camille, Duchess of Hereford, requesting the Crenshaws join her for a few weeks in London, August and Violet had seen it for the plea for help that it had been. Camille had been lonely since her wedding in November and needed her friends around her for the Season. They had arrived to find her thinner and paler than she had been in New York. It was plain to see that marriage had not agreed with her. She was friendless in a foreign country with a husband who seemed to spend all of his time elsewhere, though possibly that was for the best. He had not seemed very pleasant company the few times August had met him. Thankfully, Camille’s disposition had slowly improved in the fortnight since they had arrived. Tonight was the first time she had shown a spark of her former mischievous self, so August resolved to try to humor her and her adventure.

“You’ll have to tell me at some point.” A grin tugged at her lips. “Where are we now?”

“We’re near Whitechapel.” Camille made the declaration with all the enthusiasm of a child who saw only an adventure with none of the danger.

“Whitechapel!”

“Trust me, August, you won’t be disappointed.”

“It’s not my disappointment I’m concerned about.” Thank God she had come along. Someone had to keep Camille from her own self-destruction.

“I brought a footman along for protection.”

Not comforted in the least, August reached up to rap on the trapdoor to direct the driver to take them back home but the vehicle came to an abrupt halt before she could. They were in the middle of a dark, nondescript street surrounded by deserted buildings. A huge warehouse loomed across the road. One of its large doors had been thrown open to reveal a crowd of rough-looking people mingling