Stroke of Genius Read Online Free

hawked their wares. The fishy reek of the wharves wafted up through dank alleyways.
    Armpit, indeed. She lifted a scented hanky to her nose.
    Then they turned a corner and pulled away from the Thames.
    “ Ah, c’est bon, ” Claudette said. “A lady should not be forced to drive through such smelly places.”
    “It’s all right, Claudette. It makes me grateful I don’t have to live in them,” Grace said. “A dose of reality never hurt anyone.”
    The great dome of St. Paul’s loomed ahead of them. They rattled past the cathedral and turned down a narrow way. The coach shuddered to a halt.
    Her footman opened the door. “Sorry, miss. This is as far as we can manage. Gus says the lane’s too narrow for the coach.”
    “That’s fine, Allen. We must be close by,” Grace said as she stepped from the coach with the aid of her footman. Then the man helped Claudette as well with as much solicitude as he’d given Grace. Footmen were always hired for their pleasing appearance, but Claudette paid Allen little heed.
    “Shall I come with you and Miss Claudette?” he asked hopefully.
    “I’ll show ‘em the way, guv,” a boy called out as he came bolting down the narrow alley and skidded to astop before her. “Ye must be Miss Makepeace. Mr. Hawke sent me to wait for yer.”
    The boy dropped the h from his master’s name, pronouncing it “Mr. Auk,” as if Crispin were some great, flightless bird.
    “Indeed, and how did you know I was Miss Make-peace?” Grace was still dying to know which of her features Mr. Hawke found most pleasing. Perhaps he’d let it slip to this lad.
    “Well, ye’re tall as a lamppost, ain’t yer? And ye talk like one o’ them Yanks.”
    “When your master sets himself to charm, he does go all out,” Grace said through clenched teeth. “Very well, if you’re to be my guide, I need to know who you are.”
    “Me name’s Nate. No more. No less. Come, then. Most o’ the light-fingered chaps hereabouts are still abed.”
    “And how would you know that?”
    “Coz I used to be one o’ them.” A gap-toothed grin split his face and he beckoned them to follow him into the alley. “One at a time, now. Kind of cramped quarters, y’ see. Best not to keep Himself waitin’, ye know.”
    “I doubt it would hurt Himself to wait, but since we’re already here…” Grace eyed the narrow lane and suddenly wished she’d taken Allen up on his offer to come with them, but she didn’t want to show any hint of weakness before Crispin Hawke.
    Her maid’s presence was enough for propriety’s sake. Besides, it wasn’t as if any member of the ton would be up and about at this hour.
    Or in this neighborhood.
    “Allen, please tell Gus to collect us here in time for tea.”
    Allen’s lips twitched as if he wanted to say something else, but all he managed was, “Very good, miss.”
    “The door we’re wantin’ is about halfway in,” her pint-size guide said over his shoulder. “On the left-hand side. Oh, and I wouldn’t speak to no one we meet, if I was you.”
    Drawing a deep breath, Grace left the wider lane and stepped into the sunless cold of the dank little alley.

Chapter Three
    No one knew for certain why Pygmalion hated people so, but there was undoubtedly one thing he did love. His art.
    Why on earth would an artistic genius bury himself here like a fox gone to ground?
    Grace doubted the sun ever showed its face in the cramped alley. Cold reached out from the stone-front buildings. It slid its icy fingers down her collar, and slipped indecently under her hem.
    “Careful, mam’selle.” Claudette lifted her skirts to keep them from touching the suspect cobbles and her lips formed a moue of disgust.
    The alley turned sharply and Grace glanced back to the main street where Allen stood beside the carriage. He was still looking after them, so she waved him on.
    “Not much farther now.” Nate shot her an encouraging grin over his shoulder.
    “The little beggar is actually enjoying