“Would you like some cake Miss Hattie?” asked Mrs. Little.

“Yes please,” replied Hattie.

A happy smile appeared on the face of the Wright family's long-time housekeeper. A woman who had wept floods of tears when Hattie unexpectedly knocked on the back door in the early hours of the morning a few days earlier.

After Hattie had explained the circumstances surrounding her reappearance, Mr. and Mrs. Little had agreed to secretly harbor Hattie within the Wright family home. The housekeeping money which Hattie's father had left behind would keep the family butler and his wife fed for the time it was expected to lease out the house. Hattie was only one more mouth to feed.

What they were going to do once a new tenant took over the house was a matter for the future.

Hattie was busily wrapping up Will’s greatcoat in paper. She was uncomfortable with the notion of holding onto such a personal item of his, and wanted to return it to him as soon as she could. Her main worry was how she could get it to him without Will being able to trace the source of the coat. She held the coat up to her face and took a deep breath.

The scent of Will still permeated the fabric around the collar. Her senses tingled at the memory of the smell of his body. Of his touch.

“It's a fine piece of tailoring that coat. It was kind of the gentleman to give it to you. Very kind indeed of him and his wife to take you in and see you returned safely back to England,” Mrs. Little observed.

Hattie swallowed back a lump of guilt. Mrs. Little was someone she hated herself for lying to, but she could not bear the questions that would surely follow if either of the Littles discovered the truth. Mr. Little had been hard enough to win over when Hattie returned home.

The family butler had been all for marching three doors down to Edgar Wright's house, and informing him that his younger sister had suddenly arrived back in London without their parents. Fortunately, Mr. Little was kind hearted; and after gentle persuasion from his wife agreed to maintain the ruse for the time being.

If her luck held, Hattie would never have to explain the role that Will Saunders had played in her little adventure. He would remain her own secret savior. A love affair to remember in the dark of the night when she lay alone in her bed.

Where ever Will was now, she knew he would be thinking of her. Wondering just what had happened to the woman who had shared his bed and then refused to marry him.

Will was a man of means and that worried her. He was also no fool. He had family and powerful connections in London. If he was determined to find her, she was going to have to stay on her guard.

She had taken to leaving the house in the predawn to maintain her undercover existence. With one of her father’s old coats to cover her skirts and a hat shoved down hard on her head, she looked at first glance like any other servant girl going about her early morning errands.

Every time she set foot outside the door of her home, she was wary. Will could be waiting for her. He could have discovered more of her true identity and eventually her hiding place. Her idea of having told him the real address of her Uncle Felix’s house, no longer seemed so clever.

At the moment however, Will was the least of her problems. The Belton Street gang was foremost in her mind. With Joshua and Baylee both now fully-fledged members, tragedy for the Mayford family seemed inevitable.

“Have you given any further thought to speaking to your brother?” asked Mrs. Little.

Hattie shook her head. The truth was she had thought of little else over the past few days. Too afraid to venture out into the streets of London in broad daylight in case someone recognized her, she had spent hours trying to decide upon her next course of action.

In times past, she would not have hesitated in seeking out her brother and asking for his assistance. The Wright family had once been close. Hattie had virtually lived between the two houses after Edgar and his wife Miranda had married six years earlier.

But in the year or so leading up to her family's departure to Africa matters between her father and her brother had reached a point where they were no longer on speaking terms. Hattie herself had said things to her brother she now bitterly regretted. Harsh words rejecting his way of the world and defending that of her parents. She had even branded Miranda a cold-hearted social climber. Her last words to Edgar had been to tell him she never wished to see him or his wife again.

“I am not sure of the reception I would receive,” replied Hattie.

The only other option was her Uncle Felix, but America was such a long way away. The short journey from Gibraltar to England had put paid to her wild dreams of travelling across the Atlantic to seek out her kindly uncle.

For the time being she was stuck where she was, but at least it was home.

She took the cake and a cup of weak tea into her father’s study and closed the door. Seated behind her father’s desk, she opened the top drawer and took out a small wooden box.

Inside the box were the proceeds of the sale of some of her mother’s smaller pieces of jewelry. Mr. Little had managed to get a fair price for most of them. The handful of notes and coins would see her through the next few months. Once winter came, she would need new boots and the house would need a reliable supply of wood. There was also the question of the Mayfords and what support she could afford to give them.

She sat and stared at the money for a moment.

“You really have not got a clue as to what you are going to do, have you?” she muttered.

It was impossible to make plans when her circumstances were so tenuous. At some point a new tenant would take the house; and the world would eventually discover that she was back in London.

Her choice at this moment was to sit by and wait to be discovered, or actively seek out those who would have a say in her life once her whereabouts became known.

Will and his demand for her to marry him was unacceptable. Their affair at sea had been the magical interlude she had craved. Marriage to Will would be a different prospect as far as she was concerned. No gentleman of the ton would allow his wife to walk the streets of St. Giles and directly minister to the poor. It was simply not done. Fund raising balls were one thing, being face to face with the inhabitants of the filthy underside of London was another.

Edgar on the other hand, was possibly the lesser of two evils. Blood bonded them. There was only one way to find out, and that was to seek him out. Tomorrow being Sunday, she knew exactly where her brother and Miranda would be in the late afternoon.

She put the money back into the box and locked it securely in her father’s desk. Tomorrow she would make the trip to St. Paul’s cathedral and test the waters with Edgar.