Read Online Languish by Alyxandra Harvey - Free Book Online

upon an angry dog, I shouldn’t meet his eyes as it would be interpreted as a challenge. I adjusted my grip on my parasol. It was plain, with no ruffles or silk roses, but pointy all the same.
    â€œTraveling all alone, are you?” one of them asked with what could be described only as a leer worthy of any penny dreadful.
    Blast.
    â€œLet me pass,” I demanded. Where the devil was everyone?
    â€œThere’s a toll, love,” he insisted. “Didn’t you know?”
    We were well hidden by the luggage and a shroud of steam, thick as London fog. The third boy looked uncomfortable, as if he wanted to stop his companions but didn’t know how. Fat lot of good his squirming would do me.
    â€œGive us a kiss, then.”
    When the ringleader reached for me, I jabbed my parasol at him. I was rather proud of my aim. It should have hit him painfully between the ribs. If I hadn’t been wearing a corset and had a proper range of motion, that is. I wasn’t used to wearing corsets, nor the way they restricted my movements and altered my ability to breathe properly.
    The young man just grabbed the end of my parasol and held on, smirking. I tugged. He tugged back harder, and I lost my footing slightly. The edge of the tracks loomed close. The bone stays of my corset poked me in the ribs. His friends laughed.
    â€œNow that’s not nice, is it?” he asked. I gave up the struggle and decided to follow with his last yank of the parasol. My sudden weight took him by surprise, nearly toppling him. One of them grabbed my elbow.
    I opened my mouth to scream.
    A gloved hand closed over my chin, fingers digging into my lips. “None of that now.”
    And then suddenly I was free, sailing backward without warning.
    â€œGet off her!”
    I hit the trunks, bruising my shoulder. A hat box fell to the ground. I pushed my hair out of my eyes just in time to see Colin rearing back to punch the ringleader.
    â€œNo!” I leaped forward, grabbing his arm. The momentum of his swing had me sliding forward but at least it stopped his fist from connecting. They glared at each other as thepassengers began to trickle around us, returning to their cars. Colin frowned down at me.
    â€œViolet,” he muttered, shaking me loose.
    â€œAre you daft?” “Are you?” I shot back as the crowd pulled us away from them.
    â€œI could’ve taken that tosser,” he said, clearly insulted.
    â€œI know that, but they were rich, or rich enough, anyway. Do you think they would have shrugged it off if one of them had had their nose broken by a manservant from third class?” And no doubt he would have done just that. He was taller than each of them and had broader shoulders, for all that he was only eighteen years old. And he’d survived the alleys of London, whereas the others hadn’t likely ever made it east of Covent Garden.
    â€œDid they hurt you?” His voice was gentle, his blue eyes searching.
    â€œNo,” I shook my head. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.”
    â€œWhat the devil are you doing wandering about alone?” he snapped. “And dressed like a bloomin’ lady, the way you are. You have to be careful now, princess.”
    And there was the Colin I knew. “‘Tisn’t proper,” he insisted as he led me along the platform like a petulant child. His Irish accent always thickened when he was upset. I jerked my arm out of his grasp.
    â€œProper?” I echoed, nodding to my mother, who was flirting with no fewer than two earls from our compartment and three gentlemen from the car behind us. As if any impropriety Imight muster could even hope to compete with my mother’s expertise.
    She still didn’t know I’d discovered her real name: Mary Morgan. Mary Morgan was just another poor girl, scratching out a living, trying to keep her belly full while she yearned for pretty dresses and carriage rides. Celeste Willoughby was a gifted