Love Disguised Read Online Free Page B

being caught! She knew that Peter and Davy would not rescue her. No, they had betrayed her. She never wanted to see them again.
    Misery enveloped Meg like black water, and with a stab of sorrow she thought of her drowned mother. She turned her back on the river and huddled in the lee of an old stable, wrapped in growing darkness and knowing there was not a soul alive who cared for her, not even the woman at the Boar’s Head Inn who had called her a sweet boy. She longed for another bite of that orange. But she was penniless again and lacked even the warmth of her cloak.
    Perhaps Meg slept. When she stirred again it was long past curfew. The houses were all dark and the only light came from the pale moon. She sensed someone approaching and all her muscles braced for flight. The figure clung to the shadows, but Meg slowly made out the thin man carrying a long hook and creeping from house to house, looking up at the windows.
    At once Meg knew how to save herself. She would have to commit another crime, but she promised herself it would be her last one. As stealing food had been necessary to keep from starving, so was this new misdeed necessary if she wanted to live an honest life.

Chapter 4
    The man with the hook, a curber by profession, did not see Meg. She had the advantage of surprise. With a pounding heart she waited until he was upon her, then she leaped up and threw an arm around his neck, cutting off his breath. This was a move she learned while wrestling with Davy and Peter.
    â€œUnhand me!” he cried, choking and dropping his hook as he tried to pull Meg’s arm away.
    â€œDo as I say,” said Meg in a low-pitched voice, “or I’ll raise the hue and cry and your profitable night strolling will end.”
    The curber tried to nod. Meg released him, satisfied to see that he trembled. “What’s your name?” she demanded.
    â€œNick Grabwill,” he said, rubbing his neck with a wrinkled hand. With a start, Meg realized she had assaulted an old man.
    â€œPick up your hook, Nick, and filch me a bodice and skirt,” she said in a courteous tone. “Nothing cheap.”
    Grabwill sighed but proceeded through the silent streets, shadowed by Meg. He lifted a pillow from one open window, aman’s shirt from another. The hook disappeared a third time, whereupon Meg heard sharp, high-pitched crying.
    â€œGo to! Have you snatched a babe from its cradle?” she whispered.
    Grabwill hurriedly withdrew his hook and they ducked into an alley. The babe’s cries ceased. Meg’s throat was dry.
    â€œGive me the hook,” she said. At the next open window, she guided the hook to where she imagined a bedpost with clothing hanging from it might be. Something—a lantern or metal cup—clattered to the floor inside.
    â€œWho goes there!” came a man’s voice at the window.
    Meg ran, dragging the curber behind her. On a street by the wharf they paused before a three-storied house with its upper windows flung open to the fishy air.
    Grabwill smiled. “Here’s many a skirt to be picked up with ease. Let’s try our fortunes within.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” said Meg.
    â€œWhy, here is the best bawdy house this side of the Thames,” he said, reaching for the knocker.
    Meg struck his hand away. “I am not given to such lewdness!”
    â€œWhat sort of boy are you?” said Grabwill, peering at her more closely than she liked.
    â€œOne who does not answer questions. Try your luck with the hook. Now!” She pointed to the windows but the curber stood still. He was losing his fear of her, so Meg reached out and cuffed his ear. She hated to hurt him but she had to have the clothing.
    Angrily Grabwill fished in the window, his hook loudlystriking the window jamb as it emerged at last with the necessary garments.
    Meg heard cursing. A half-naked woman leaned from the window.
    â€œIs that you, villain Nick? A pox on you,