But, she wasn’t just any whore. Jonathan had fallen in love with her as a young man and lost her to circumstances beyond his control. The brothel called The Market had been the last place he’d seen her as she escaped the bustling London streets and slipped through the front door. The momentary glimpse wouldn’t be worth a tuppence now. She could be anywhere. Jonathan settled back against the cracked leather squabs and tried to ignore the stench left behind from the hack’s previous occupants. Palms sweating within his gloves, he attempted to take deep, calming breaths. Flashes of a towheaded beauty with her skirts rucked up around her knees as she waded into the stream merged into the same girl kneeling by a calf whose mother had abandoned it. Refusing to give up, the girl urged the baby cow to drink the milk from the bottle she held. A bump in the road jerked him from his memories and the dark of night collapsed around him, tangling with the fog to make the evening impenetrable.
