Read Every Whispered Word for Free Online

bit of juice out of a lemon.
    She came to the end of the street and crossed, then slipped down a narrow alley that ran behind a row of homes, weaving her way back to where she had left Zareb with the carriage. Her African friend had argued vehemently with her when she had insisted that he could not drive her directly to Mr. Kent’s home, but ultimately he had relented. They couldn’t afford to rouse any attention, and Zareb by his very appearance never failed to draw a fascinated audience wherever he went.
    She held her hat with one hand and her reticule safe against her chest with the other, despising the iron grip of her corset and the cumbersome cage of her bustle and petticoats. When she finally got back to Africa, she would take great pleasure in burying them both. Some archaeologist a thousand years hence would no doubt think they were instruments of torture.
    â€œHello there, duckie.” A heavyset man appeared suddenly in front of her, blocking her path. “Where are we off to in such a hurry?”
    Before she could respond, an enormous hand clapped roughly over her mouth, cutting off the enraged protest in her throat.

F or cryin’ out loud, Stanley, will ye hold her steady?” The short, round dumpling of a man in front of Camelia regarded the giant who had grabbed her with exasperation. “I ain’t lookin’ to get poked in the blinker.”
    â€œShe’s in a fair pucker, Bert,” Stanley explained apologetically as he tried to restrain Camelia’s flailing arms while still muffling her mouth. “I think she’s scared.”
    â€œO’ course she’s scared, ye great lumberin’ oaf,” Bert snapped. “An’ so she should be,” he quickly added, his dark, woolly eyebrows furrowing into a menacing scowl as he sauntered closer to Camelia. “A fine lady like this ain’t accustomed to dealin’ with a couple o’ dangerous cutthroats like us—are ye, me fancy dove?”
    Camelia kicked his shin as hard as she could.
    â€œGawdamighty!” screeched Bert, hopping about on one leg. “Bloody hell—did ye see that? Kicked me right in the shanks, she did—I’ll be lucky if she ain’t broken the skin!” He doubled over to gingerly rub his throbbing leg. “Can’t ye hold her better than that, Stanley, or do ye need me to do it for ye?”
    â€œSorry, Bert,” Stanley apologized, valiantly trying to hold Camelia still as her enormous hat fell to the ground. “I can’t hold her arms an’ gob an’ keep her feet steady, too—shall I take my hand off her gob?”
    â€œNo, don’t take yer hand off her gob, ye bloody clod pate—do ye want her screamin’ for half o’ London to come runnin’?”
    â€œMaybe she won’t scream if we ask her not to.”
    â€œOh, that’s a bang-up idea, that is,” sneered Bert, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Sure, Stanley, let’s just free her bone box an’ ask her ladyship nice and pretty not to make a cheep.”
    Stanley started to take his hand away from Camelia’s mouth.
    â€œStop, ye great big lobcock!” shouted Bert, flapping his arms like an addled chicken. “I didn’t mean it!”
    â€œThen why’d ye say it?” asked Stanley, confused.
    â€œI was bein’ sarky—ye know, when ye say somethin’ ye don’t really mean.”
    Stanley shook his head, bewildered. “Ye say things ye don’t mean? Then how am I supposed to know when ye mean somethin’, and when ye don’t?”
    â€œGodamercy—I’ll tell ye, Stanley, all right?”
    â€œWill ye tell me before, or after ye say somethin’ sarky?” persisted Stanley, troubled. “I want to be sure I know when ye’re doin’ it.”
    â€œFor the love o’—I’ll tell ye right after, all right? Will that suit ye?”
    â€œIt’d be