Chapter Seven
Green hadn’t found his way to the workhouse, or to any of the almshouses. Dusk was darkening the sky. The wind carried the occasional drop of rain. “We’ll try all the inns tomorrow,” Letty said. “I know there’s no logical reason why anyone would lie, but there’s no harm in checking, is there?”
Reid glanced at her, and clearly decided that the question was rhetorical.
A gust of wind almost lifted Letty’s hat from her head. In its wake, the rain began to come down in earnest.
Miss Trentham, England’s greatest heiress, never ran; Mrs. Reid did, clutching her hat with one hand and holding her skirts up with the other. She arrived at the Plough puffing and laughing and feeling like a girl again, and clattered breathlessly up the stairs to her room, where Eliza waited to help h
