Page 3 of The Duke's Bride in Disguise
Chapter One
Lud, London was a dirty town, Ava Smith thought with disgust as she emptied the water from her bucket out onto the cobblestones of the alleyway behind Mr Hobbs' Circulating Library.
Though the hour was early, the inclement weather had already forced Ava into mopping the floors of the establishment twice, as scores of customers had dragged puddles of grey rainwater in with them from the dirty London street.
"Can't have the ladies staining their hems in our premises," she whispered to herself in a falsetto as she mimicked the patronising tones of Mr Hobbs' nephew Boris, who had lately become something of a thorn in Ava's side. His needling, persnickety way of dealing with her was made all the worse when she compared it to his Uncle's kind and gentle approach to his staff.
Unfortunately Mr Hobbs, whom Ava had worked for, for nearly a decade, was no longer the proprietor of the circulating library, having passed the business on to Boris when illness forced him into an early retirement in the country.
Hampshire. In her two and twenty years Ava had never left London, so she could only imagine the pastoral setting in which Mr Hobbs now lived. In her mind's eye she envisioned rolling, green hills dotted with forget-me-nots and populated by cows. Cows that did not soil the ground with great, stinking piles of dung; unlike the herds which were driven through London, on the way to Smithfield Market, did.
Ava stared down at her thick, practical boots, which alas had fallen victim to one of the many piles of cow and horse droppings which littered the roads, just that very morning. If she was rich, something she often liked to imagine she was, she would have been able to pay a crossing sweeper to clear a path for her, as she crossed the road at Piccadilly on her way to fetch Boris a pie. But, she was not rich, and despite the care she took, she had been forced to jump backwards, in order to avoid an oncoming carriage, and her boot had sunk deep into a pile of fresh, steaming dung.
Still, she reminded herself as she hurried back inside lest she be accused of dawdling, soon she would be leaving London, Boris and horse droppings behind forever.
And it was all thanks to Mr Hobbs, to whom she already owed so much.
At the age of twelve, having spent every day of her young life within its walls, the Asylum for Orphaned Girls had sent Ava out into the world to fend for herself. Like many of the other orphans, she had been indentured into a serving position with one of the Asylum's donors. Unlike the other orphans, Ava had been lucky enough to be sent to the home of Albert Percival Hobbs.
"My man, Percy, wanted a boy," was the first thing that Mr Hobbs had said to Ava, when she had arrived at his home, shaking with nerves.
"I did, I wanted a boy," a maudlin voice called from behind Mr Hobbs.
Ava had been struck dumb with fear at their words; were they going to send her away? If they did, she would have nowhere to go, for the Asylum would not take her back.
"If you wanted a boy, you should not have tried to find one in an orphanage forgirls," Ava replied hotly, once she had found her voice. "You cannot blame me for your own foolishness."
No sooner were the words out of her mouth,than she had wanted to take them back. The white haired man standing before her had raised an eyebrow and, for a moment, Ava had braced herself for a belt from the back of his hand.
