![]() ![]() ![]() It was enough to make any young woman anxious. Suspicious, leering eyes, set in hard, unshaven faces. From every murky corner-and for a squared-off tea caddy of a building, this tavern abounded in murky corners-eyes followed her. Taking one last deep breath, she sidled her way into the dank, drunken confusion, forbidding her gray serge skirts to brush against anything. ![]() With a shiver, she wrapped her cloak tight across her chest. She pasted herself against the doorjamb, wondering at the singular form of address implied in “luv.” The man’s comment had clearly been directed toward both of her breasts. Even from here, the stench of soured ale accosted her, forcing bile into her throat.Ī burly man elbowed her aside as he went out the door. She paused in the doorway of the fetid dockside tavern. She’d neglected to consider how infamy smelled. In fleeing the society wedding of the year, Sophia Hath-away knew she would be embracing infamy. ![]()
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