Page 2 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
“Get her, boys!”
“We'll have you drip dryin' before the night's out!”
“Run on, doxy! Run on!”
The men barked insults and threats as she picked up speed. Her heart thrummed in her chest as they whistled to the carriers posted at the inn to join the pursuit. The carriers left their post in a hurry, surging ahead of the four lagging thugs with their fresh legs.
The carriers moved to cut her off at the turn while Nash and his minions came up behind her.
I will be trapped here.
Leah tripped over some bloke sleeping on the street while she glanced around hurriedly, scanning for some sort of escape.
“Gotcha!”
She felt a biting grip squeeze her arm suddenly. She dropped low to throw her attacker off balance and used her momentum to trip him up with an arcing sweep of her leg. He hit the ground with a wet thud and an irritable grunt, the dirty water drenching him.
She was free!The garden box. Leah took a running leap, springing off of a stoop, and grappled with the low-hanging garden box from the balcony above. With a grunt of effort, she hauled her body using abdominal strength in a brilliant arc above the carriers. She landed with a great splash beyond them, and before they could spin around, she was gone.
“I said get ‘er, you fat-headed cloves!” Nash looked to be in a panic, gasping for air along with the rest of his men. To him, it likely seemed as if she were going to get away. He could not allow that to happen, and Leah knew it. Not only was she going to be his income, but also his reputation. A failure like this was hard to come back from, in Riphook's eyes.
Leah let out a cheeky snicker and turned toward St. James’s Street. Riphook’s men wouldn’t openly attack her in front of the highborn members of society, lest someone recognize Nash and the gang.
It was a delicate relationship. The city of London had no standardized police force. Instead, each neighborhood made up their own militias of night watchmen and constables. In the more comfortable parts of the city, blatant criminal action was forbidden.
Among the wealthy citizens of London, it was a game of sneak thievery, of pick pocketry, and sly con men. This was in direct contrast with the majority of the city, where the poor lived overcrowded in the shadow of manufactories and markets and were directly affected by the criminal underground. Among the poor, crime was an open expression of society, but there on St. James’s Street, crime was a horribly-hidden secret.
It was a balance that Riphook had worked hard to attain. The framework had been there always, but it required a good deal of coin to bring it to fruition. One of the reasons Riphook was so successful was because he understood one simple thing: the rich folks didn't care one way or another what happened across the river. As long as their shop fronts were clear and their gardens unmolested, they would pay no mind to the goings on a few blocks over.
This truce was enforced with coin to the constables, and even, it was rumored, a judge or two. While Leah knew that the thugs chasing her would stop at nearly nothing, she also knew that they would not dare break the truce of St. James’s Street, or there would be high hell to pay.
Leah smiled while she neared her destination; the high-fenced gardens of the nobility were coming into sight. She could just imagine the fashionable ladies of London in their flowing gowns at the marriage mart, trying to run away from the pack of hooligans.
What a sight that would be. Perhaps they needed a bit of excitement.While it was a fun thought, she knew she had to take a different route, and aimed to climb a wall into one of the private gardens. One could disappear for what seemed an eternity among those winding hedges, and that was what she meant to do. The rain at that moment ceased again, and the cold wind blew at her from the side.
She headed towards an iron gate and jumped at the bars, hauling herself upwards.
You've got to keep moving.
The iron was slick, and the gate drenched from the rain; her hand slipped up when she reached the top, and she grunted out desperately as she plummeted awkwardly on the other side.
She hit the ground clumsily, twisting her ankle on impact. It was a lance of pain rocketing up her leg, but she had no time to think on it.
“Bloody git!” Nash hissed from the other side of the bars. “Where do you think you're goin'?” he began to climb the iron bars and signaled for his lackeys to swing around.
Leah turned and dashed into the hedge rows. If she could make it across this garden, then she could take shelter from the goons in the bustle of St. James’s Square. There, she would finally be safe.
The other men followed, careful to stay to the darkest parts of the streets. She cursed their parentage and made a mad dash towards St. James’s Square. They were trying to cage her in, and it was working. She had to get clear before they got around her completely.
“Themroyalsain’t gon’ save you, little Leah,” Nash yelled from somewhere behind the hedge rows. “They’d rather watch you bleed out dry!”
She had to remind herself that he was only half correct. The members of high society didn’t care whether her kind lived or died; however, their well-lit streets would keep Nash from killing her in the open. Her life meant nothing to them, but the sanctity of their streets was all important.
Even if the storm had forced most people inside, the aristocratic businesses of the main stroll all boasted magnificent windows that looked out beneath the street lights. It was early in the day yet, and the shops would be full.
Leah knew it was doubtful that the patronesses of the Assembly Rooms would allow her entry, but the closer she was to the crowds of aristocrats, the safer she’d be. Her disguise was shot to pieces from the chase, and she knew that masquerading as a gentleman would no longer work.
She caught sight of the final fence, and on the other side was an alleyway servicing St. James’s Square. That was her route. She pumped her legs faster than before, pushing the pain in her ankle aside, pumping fiery acid through her veins to close the distance.
