Chapter Six

Sue stopped moving, even breathing, as fear seized her bowels in an icy grip.

“Don’t move,” Violet whispered. “We can lose them in this fog. I’m a little light on my earnings tonight, but I’m not throwing in with that lot.”

Sue nodded in agreement, biting her lower lip. She draped the scarf over her head and secured the extra material around her neck and shoulders. She didn’t have to speak. Violet’s eyes were wide with terror. The two women clung to each other and edged forward together without making a sound. Just as they were about to take another step, Violet pulled away from her, doubled over, and let loose a wet, hacking cough.

She slapped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. They’d already caught the attention of the drunken men whose footsteps sounded hollow in the fog. The tap-tap of heels on the ground got closer until the shape of a man emerged from the thick mist like a stage actor pushing aside theater curtains.

“Oi, Freddie, wot’s that I see over there then? A couple of ladybirds out on a stroll?” This man was tall and skinny, made even taller by his hat, which he doffs off before bowing before them mockingly.

Violet’s sharp nails dug into Sue’s side as the young woman yanked her closer to her frail frame. “When I say run, you run, all right? If you fall, I ain’t going back fer you to pick you up.”

Sue’s pulse was beating a tattoo in her neck. Her fists balled up into fists at her sides. More men emerged from the fog, four of them, each one dressed alike in tailored coats, ruffled shirts, and tight-ass capri pants paired with white stockings. Susan sneered. How tough could they be if they were wearing capri pants, for Pete’s sake?

Two of the men were tall, one is mid-height, and the fourth one was a head shorter than the rest. He had the nastiest grin on his face; his teeth, which looked like chiclets, glinted in what little light there was.

His hair was curly and white—but he was a young man, couldn’t be older than twenty-three. It was long and tied back. “Well, well. Wot have we got here? Clarkson, wot do you suppose two such women are doing out on a night like this in the disreputable part of town without a chaperone?”

“They ain’t ladies, Mac, that’s for sure,” said the man called Clarkson, who also had long, curly white hair. He circled Sue and Violet, leaning in twice to sniff them. “This one in red—” He grabbed Sue’s arm and yanked her away from Violet. “—smells like a flower garden in heaven.”

One man guffawed. “And how would you know wot that smells like?”

“Because I’ve been between your sister’s thighs, Freddie!” said the one gripping Sue’s arm. “She passes her regards, by the by.”

Sue lowered her head because she had a bad feeling that things would only get worse if they saw she was… not white. She attempted to yank her arm from Clarkson, but his grip was like steel. “Let go of me, you bastard!”

While the other men jeered, Sue’s captor cursed and punched the side of her head. “You should learn how to speak to your betters, girl.”

She kept the scarf secured around her head even as she staggered from the blow. For a moment, her ears rang, and stars floated in front of her eyes. Oh, my God, she thought. This is it. I’m going to get raped, murdered, and tossed in the Thames. The whole thing struck her as unfair. She didn’t even what the hell was going on or why she was where she was. She had a zygote of an idea that involved wormholes.

“We don’t want no trouble, sirs,” Violet said in her old woman's voice, keeping her head ducked. “We are just wanting to get home, so we can get ourselves in front of the fire and have some supper.”

Sue watched her from the corner of her eyes. Violet had also covered her head with a scarf. Where was she hiding these things? Her stooped posture and careful, pained movements gave her the appearance of an elderly woman. “Please give us leave, sirs. I must get my grandmother home. She is very ill.”

A man snorted. “Maybe your grandmother can go home. We have no use for the old bag. But you, you lovely harlot, shall stay with us for just a wee bit longer.”

Within herself, Sue screamed with utter terror. But as one man grabbed her arm and his fingers bit into her flesh, her mind quieted. A blanket of calmness seemed to settle over her. She could sense her pulse slowing down, and her breath evening out. Around her, the noise became distorted, as though she were underwater. A switch was flipped on inside her head. All at once, she knew how to break out of the man’s grip and take him down along with his idiot friends. The surge of confidence that went through her body was revitalizing, like her cells were being infused with coffee.

Of course, the asshole wasn’t expecting her to fight back, so when she twisted out of his hold and elbowed him in the stomach, she caught him off guard. He hit the ground hard. The look of befuddlement quickly replaced by rage vanished when Sue kicked him across the face, and he collapsed into a heap.

Holy shit! Sue thought. How did she do that? She could barely walk in this goddamn gown, but now she could kick people? By some miracle, her skirts did feel a little lighter.

“Oh, splendid show! Did you gents see that? She took down Clarkson in two moves,” said the guy called Freddie. “Oh, I do prefer a ladybird with some fight in her.”

If only her skirts didn’t hamper her movement, she’d be able to do some jump and kick combos, and this fight would be over now. She didn’t trust the look in Freddie’s eyes. He seemed like a guy who tortured people for fun. She knew he would put her in a world of hurt if he got ahold of her. Well, he’d have to catch her first.

She ducked as he came in for a drunken lunge and slipped under his arm. As soon as she was behind him, she struck him between the shoulder blades with her elbow and brought up her knee to smash into his face. It didn’t have the effect she wanted because of her damn skirts, so she just punched the side of his head. With him doubled over, she captured his neck under her arm and gave him three more solid punches in the face and two in the kidney before dropping him on the ground. She did all of this without dislodging the shawl from her head.

“Holy Jaysus!” cried Violet.

“This chit is an animal and needs to be disciplined, Withers,” said one of the taller ones with a cruel twist to his lips. He dashed forward, raising his cane to strike.

Sue rocked back to avoid the blow in time, but the cane never reached her. A black-gloved hand caught it and yanked it away from its owner.

“What the devil—” was all the jerk could say before a fist smashed into the side of his jaw and knocked him down flat.

“Oh, I say,” the last guy standing whined. “That’s not very sportin,’ is it? You caught him by—oh! Evenin,’ sir.” He straightened his posture and doffed off his hat before bowing, his nose almost touching his knees. “I’ll just be taking my leave with your permission.”

The tall newcomer grunted, and the guy called Withers took off running and soon disappeared into the fog.

“You two,” he growled, turning to face Sue and Violet. “Get the hell away from here. Go home.”

There wasn’t much Sue could see of him in the darkness. The heavy mist obscured him from the shoulders and up. He had a long black cloak on and shiny black boots that gleamed even in the dull moonlight. Sue noted the flash of gold buttons on what he wore under his cloak as he pivoted away from them.

“My lord,” Violet said breathlessly, putting her gloved hand on the new guy’s arm. “We owe you our lives. Is there something we can do for you?”

Sue blinked and narrowed her gaze at her friend, who changed her accent and diction. She almost sounded like a fancy lady.

The man shook her off. “No. I said, go home.”

Sue could feel his scrutiny on her and its probing examination even under her shawl. The man was making her feel naked just by looking at her. She clutched her arms around her body.

“These men could have seriously hurt you,” he murmured, touching the tip of his boot to the forehead of an unconscious man.

“Yeah,” Sue scoffed, annoyed that this man was having any effect on her. “Right.”

Out of nowhere came the clopping of hooves on the pavement and horses whinnying. A moment later, a large black carriage pulled up behind the tall stranger. He bent at the knees and scooped up the unconscious man he prodded with his boot to hoist him over his shoulder. A lad wearing a green uniform and a white wig hopped down from the back of the carriage to open the door for him. The stranger dumped his limp baggage inside.

Once again, he turned to face Sue and Violet. "Go home."