“I am here to see Ginevra Costa,” I say with as much surety as I can muster. It isn't much. Now, inside this building, the one housing those who are accused but cannot afford bail, are held till they are put to trial. Its presence of doom invades me. I will not turn back.
“This is no place for a lady like you to be, Miss.” The guard rises and looks down his crooked nose at me, face striped by the shadows of the bars.
“It is Miss Worthington,” I say, using the power of my name for one of the few times in my life. “She is my lady's maid. I have every right.” As I speak, I pucker my lips as I had seen Mrs. Astor do on many an occasion. I discover puckered lips don't quiver as much.
“She murdered your fiancé,” he says, bordering on impertinence.
“All the more reason.” I'm growling now.
He
