Chapter One
London, England
October 1901
“I absolutely forbid it!”
Lady Allison Croft carefully folded the cloth napkin in her lap then set it next to her plate, meeting her older brother’s intimidating gaze calmly. “I am two and twenty, Lucien. You have no right to forbid me anything.”
The Earl of Hawkesmere blinked, astonished as always when she defied him. The wheels visibly turned in his brain, and he tried a different tactic. “I’m worried about you. Bethnal Green is dangerous.”
Allison glanced at Lucien’s wife, Serenity, who sat across the table from her, and her sister-in-law gave her an encouraging look. Serenity was a big supporter of Allison’s charitable endeavors and constantly reminded her that Lucien was too; he just wanted to keep her safe.
With a deep sigh, Allison tried to find some patience. “I’ve been going to dangerous neighborhoods for years, Lucien. It’s part of what I do.”
“Yes, and every time, I try to get you to see reason.” He ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration. “I’m proud of you for using Roger’s money to do so much good. But why can’t you hire people to do these things for you? Why do you insist upon going out and meeting with the dregs of society yourself?”
Several things about her brother’s question spiked her already simmering temper, and if not for Serenity’s calming presence, Allison feared she would become a screaming fishwife. Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten as she slowly let it out. She loved her brother, but sometimes he seemed completely out of touch with what the common man went through. Her family had been given so much; it would be criminal of them not to give back a little.
“First of all, it’s my money, not Roger’s,” she said as calmly as she could. “Second, I employ several people, and I do charge them with as much of the dirty work as possible. However, it gives me great joy to meet with the women I help.” She blinked against a sudden burn of tears. “My work gives my life meaning, Lucien. You can’t ask me to give that up.”
Obviously a bit taken aback by her show of emotion, Lucien cleared his throat. “I’ve allowed it because I know that you want to atone for Roger’s crimes, but you’re far past marriageable age. The Season is nearly upon us, and I think you should put your energies toward finding a husband and starting your life.”
Serenity gasped. “Lucien!”
But Allison was already pushing to her feet, too incensed to sit and listen to her brother’s well-intentioned but ridiculous advice any longer.
“I have no intention of marrying, as you well know! And I am a grown woman with resources of my own. We are living in the dawn of a new century! You have no right to dictate my actions today or any other simply because you’re a man!” Back straight, she marched from the dining room, ignoring Lucien’s demands that she return. Still in a huff, she stomped up the grand staircase toward her bedchamber, wondering if the time had finally come for her to leave her brother’s household and start one of her own.
When her brother Roger had died five years ago, he’d left her an obscene amount of unentailed real estate. Brothels, gaming hells, warehouses, and the home where he’d kept his mistress. She’d had her solicitor manage the sale of nearly all of it, which had left her a very wealthy woman.
But on that long trip across the Channel with Inspector O’Brien, she’d learned exactly what her brother had been involved in, how many people he’d hurt and taken advantage of. All the naivete and privilege she’d taken so much for granted had been stripped away that day, leaving her eyes open to a world of ugliness and poverty she’d previously been completely unaware of.
She was grateful and considered herself a much better person for it. But now, she had no inclination to spend her time gossiping and going to endless balls and parties, looking for a husband who would dictate what she could do with her money and her life.
Instead, she’d bought a house in Bethnal Green, had it remodeled, and opened it so that women who were looking for a way out of prostitution could stay there while they learned a new trade. Mercy House was the one thing in her life she had to be proud of, and every time her brother tried to curtail her activities, it made her want to scream at the unfairness of it all. Of course, if she were a man, he’d be completely behind her efforts. Her three remaining brothers had long funded an orphanage called Brookhaven and even engaged in some vigilante work as a masked man of the night named Prometheus to make people’s lives better.
Reaching her bedchamber door, she entered to find her lovely dark-haired lady’s maid, Heather Fields, spreading out the plain brown walking dress Allison wore whenever she went to undesirable areas of the city. The well-made but nondescript gown would not draw the eye.
“He’s trying to stop me from going again,” Allison announced as she crossed the room to Heather’s side and turned her back so the lady’s maid could begin getting her out of the dress she’d just put her in an hour ago. The ridiculousness of always having the right ensemble for every occasion was another thing that drove her mad. If her brother had his way, she’d spend her entire day just changing clothes.
Heather met her gaze in the mirror, her blue eyes sympathetic. Though it went against everything she’d been taught, Allison considered Heather her very best friend. They’d been together since Allison was thirteen and Heather sixteen, and they told each other everything.
“He’s only trying to keep you safe,” Heather reminded her. “You’re lucky to have him.”
All of Allison’s righteous indignation collapsed under her friend’s gentle admonition. “I know. It’s just frustrating that he sees me as some sort of glass doll to be put upon a shelf.”
“What we’re doing is dangerous,” Heather said sternly, unlacing Allison’s stays and allowing her to take a few wonderful, unfettered breaths before she began the process of doing her up all over again. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be quite so cavalier about it. Just because we’ve been lucky so far doesn’t mean we’ll continue to be.”
“We always take Joseph,” Allison reminded her, referring to her brother’s most brawny footman, refusing to feel chastened. “I’ve never felt as though we were in any danger at all.”
Heather gave a disbelieving snort. “Well, I certainly have. I worked hard to get out of that neighborhood. I know what goes on there.”
Allison fell into silence as Heather continued buttoning the tiny buttons that ran up the back of her gown. At moments like this, when she couldn’t even fasten her own gown, it was hard to feel like a strong, independent woman. She hadn’t realized Heather felt that their monthly excursions to Bethnal Green were dangerous. Guilt filled her with the knowledge that she might be forcing her friend to do something she wasn’t comfortable with.
Perhaps Joseph didn’t want to go either.
“You needn’t go with me if you don’t want to,” Allison said as Heather stepped away to straighten the vanity. “I don’t ever want you to feel unsafe.”