Once Upon a Moonlit Night: A Maiden Lane novella Read Online Free

the carriage and gone hunting in the hedge while she’d emptied her bladder. Now he stood up, looking around alertly, and she saw he carried a brown beetle in his mouth.
    “So you’ve caught your breakfast?” she murmured to him. “Well done, sir.”
    The mongoose tilted his head, looking up at her with intelligent beady eyes.
    She felt a pang of longing. She hadn’t lied to Mr. Mortimer when she’d told him she’d once dreamed of having a pet mongoose. Long ago, when she’d lived in India. When Amma had been alive and the air had sung with heat, chattering voices, and the scent of dung and spices. Before she’d forgotten the taste of curry, the feel of floating silks, and the language of her mother.
    Before she’d learned to hide the part of her that was Indian.
    She should never have spoken of mongooses and India to Mr. Mortimer. The Duke of Montgomery had already attempted to blackmail Hippolyta over her mother. The danger was real and already proven. The English were quite contemptuous of those outside their shores, let alone people of different religions, and darker skins.
    Her mother had been all three.
    Were London society to realize that she was half-Indian, the majority would shun her. And even with Papa’s money very few men would want to marry her.
    Her children would be one-quarter Indian, after all.
    But…
    Mr. Mortimer didn’t believe her, did he? She could babble all she wanted to about India and her childhood and perhaps even Amma and he’d think she was simply spinning tales. The idea was strangely alluring—to talk about her memories, all stored up, without fear of repercussion.
    “Ready?”
    She looked up at his voice and saw Mr. Mortimer striding toward her, a frown on his face.
    Well, it’d be alluring to talk about her memories if she had a companion who was just a bit more likable. “Yes, I’m ready.”
    But Mr. Mortimer wasn’t paying attention to her reply. He was scowling down at Tommy. “You’re not taking that in the carriage.” That was apparently the beetle, still clutched between Tommy’s sharp little teeth. Mr. Mortimer moved to stand between the mongoose and the open carriage door. “Drop it.”
    “He caught it himself,” Hippolyta objected on behalf of Tommy. “It’s his breakfast.”
    Mr. Mortimer transferred his scowl to her. “I’ve some cooked chicken in the carriage for him. He doesn’t need—”
    He was interrupted by Tommy’s darting between his legs and into the carriage, breakfast beetle and all.
    There was a short silence.
    Hippolyta cleared her throat, fighting back a smile. “Shall we go?”
    Mr. Mortimer stepped to the side and bowed, sweeping his arm toward the carriage. “After you, Princess.”
    She pursed her lips at his mocking tone but nodded and climbed into the carriage. Tommy was nowhere in sight when she looked around.
    The carriage rocked as Mr. Mortimer entered behind her. “He’s hiding with his prize, no doubt. You needn’t worry over him.”
    He knocked on the roof and sat just as the carriage lurched into motion.
    Hippolyta pulled some of the blankets over her lap and spotted a glittering black eye and a pink little nose twitching under a fold. Hastily she flung the edge of a blanket back over Tommy as she heard a distinct crunch.
    She cleared her throat. “How far to the next town?”
    Mr. Mortimer had pulled out a battered cloth bag and was rummaging in it.
    He shrugged broad shoulders. “Don’t know.”
    She frowned. “But—”
    “We’ll get there when we get there.” He pulled a loaf of bread out of his sack, set it beside him on the seat, and reached into the bag again to bring out a wedge-shaped package wrapped in red oilcloth, which turned out to be cheese.
    Tommy poked his head out of the blanket beside Hippolyta, his nose aimed at the food.
    “Decided to make an appearance?” Mr. Mortimer drawled to the animal without looking.
    “You did say you had some food for him,” Hippolyta pointed out.
    “And so I