Breathless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 2): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series Read online

  Breathless

  The Scarlet Suffragette Book Two

  Nicola Claire

  Contents

  About the Author

  Free Download

  Also by Nicola Claire

  1. Where Indeed?

  2. In Darkest London

  3. Where It All Began

  4. What The…?

  5. Don’t Get Ahead Of Yourself, Anna

  6. Oh, Bother

  7. Mince Pies?

  8. Poisonous In More Than One Way

  9. A More Incongruous Vision I Had Never Seen

  10. Why Didn't You Say So?

  11. Was This A Game?

  12. Armed And Ready

  13. Urging Me Ever Onwards To Mina

  14. I Am Home

  15. What A Pickle

  16. You Haven’t A Chance, Old Boy

  17. I’m Sure I Don’t Know

  18. But For Mina I Would Gladly Bleed

  19. Breathless For Anna

  20. And Then The Beast Within Burst Out

  21. My World Shattered Once Again

  22. The Faint Hint Of Jasmine Met The Still Air

  23. And Felt Bitter For My Efforts

  24. And The Shock On Anna’s Face

  25. So Very Protective

  26. Minutes Felt Like Days

  27. My Name Is Mary

  28. And Fears For Anna

  29. I’m Coming With You

  30. It Is Yours

  31. Damnation

  32. It Is True

  33. You Don’t Say?

  34. Secrets Have A Way Of Shackling You

  35. How On Earth Did I Combat That?

  36. And A Torrent Of Tears

  37. That Damnable Cane Tapping

  38. Checkmate

  39. Nothing But My Fear

  40. This Town Is My Kingdom

  41. Not If My Wife Lived

  42. Make Haste!

  43. Anna

  44. Right In The Thick Of It

  45. I Would Do It

  46. But At What Cost

  47. And Then Everyone Was Yelling At Once

  48. Inside I Was Screaming

  49. It All Went Downhill From There

  50. But I Was Too Far Down The Rabbit Hole Now To Climb Out

  51. Or Have You Courage Enough To Be Yourself?

  52. To Everyone But Us

  Epilogue

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  Copyright © 2017, Nicola Claire

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  © Cover Art by Cora Graphics

  © Depositphotos.com/darkbird

  © Bigstockphoto.com/Inga Ivanova/WizData

  ISBN: 978-0-473-39635-0

  Created with Vellum

  About the Author

  Nicola Claire lives in beautiful Taupo, New Zealand with her husband and two young boys.

  She's tried her hand at being a paramedic, bank teller and medical sales representative, (not all necessarily in that order), but her love of writing keeps calling her back.

  She has a passion for all things suspenseful, spiced up with a good dollop of romance, as long as they include strong characters - alpha males and capable females - and worlds which although make-believe are really quite believable in the end.

  There's nothing better than getting caught up in a compelling, intriguing and romantic book.

  When she's not writing or reading, she's out on her family boat at Lake Taupo, teaching her young boys to fish, showing them the beauty that surrounds them in nature and catching some delicious trout for dinner.

  Creating rich worlds with dynamic characters and unexpected twists that shock and awe has been pure bliss for this author. And just as well, because there's a lot more story yet to tell...

  For more information:

  @NicolaClaireNZ

  168567699926093

  www.nicolaclairebooks.com

  [email protected]

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  Also by Nicola Claire

  Kindred Series

  Kindred

  Blood Life Seeker

  Forbidden Drink

  Giver of Light

  Dancing Dragon

  Shadow's Light

  Entwined With The Dark

  Kiss Of The Dragon

  Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Novella)

  Mixed Blessing Mystery Series

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  Dark Shadow (Coming Soon)

  Sweet Seduction Series

  Sweet Seduction Sacrifice

  Sweet Seduction Serenade

  Sweet Seduction Shadow

  Sweet Seduction Surrender

  Sweet Seduction Shield

  Sweet Seduction Sabotage

  Sweet Seduction Stripped

  Sweet Seduction Secrets

  Sweet Seduction Sayonara

  Elemental Awakening Series

  The Tempting Touch Of Fire

  The Soothing Scent Of Earth

  The Chilling Change Of Air

  The Tantalising Taste Of Water (Coming Soon)

  H.E.A.T. Series

  A Flare Of Heat

  A Touch Of Heat

  A Twist Of Heat (Novella)

  A Lick Of Heat (Coming Soon)

  Citizen Saga

  Elite

  Cardinal

  Citizen

  Masked (Novella)

  Wiped

  Scarlet Suffragette Series

  Fearless

  Breathless

  Heartless (Coming Soon)

  Blood Enchanted Series

  Blood Enchanted

  Blood Entwined

  Blood Enthralled (Coming Soon)

  44 South Series

  Southern Sunset

  Southern Storm

  Southern Strike (Coming Soon)

  Lost Time Series

  Losing Time (Coming Soon)

  For:

  My father.

  An Englishman & a gentleman.

  And my Scarlet Suffragette muse.

  Rest in peace, Poppa.

  Where Indeed?

  Anna

  London, England

  April 1892

  In amongst the clutter and cacophony of the auditorium, the vacant chair stood out like a spectre to me. To the majority, it lay invisible. Their eyes simply skimming over the empty seat as if it didn’t exist. As if hidden behind a veil of shadows. From my vantage point up on the stage, however, it felt like a punch to the stomach.

  Wilhelmina’s absence left me reeling.

  We’d been receiving evermore strange missives of late. Gifts without explanation. Two months of odd messages and pressed flowers, none of them at all familiar. Trinkets and blossoms and perfumed scents from another world entirely. I’d traced them to the Dutch East Indies, but little more k
nowledge had been awarded me.

  I couldn’t help feeling that something, someone, was closing in on us.

  And now Mina’s absence from my graduation.

  Where was the chit? Absorbed in the rich history of the Tower? Gazing at the lions of Trafalgar Square? Attending a performance at the Royal Albert Hall? Or lost in the macabre at Marie Tussaud’s on Marylebone Street, more likely. Wilhelmina couldn’t seem to get enough of the lifelike wax sculptures.

  But even as I told myself this was just another of Mina’s absent moments, her mind shut off to reality, fortifying itself with the surreal, I knew her missing this moment was unusual.

  My heart picked up a rapid beat, a tempo better suited to a battlefield. Too much of our recent life had been a battle.

  “Miss Anna Louisa Cassidy,” a voice of authority called out to the side, pulling me from my memories. Disturbing me, albeit briefly, from my fears.

  I smiled at Dr Garrett Anderson and stood from my seat taking the first steps towards liberty.

  There was no returning smile to greet me, however. Elizabeth Garrett Anderson did not suffer fools lightly. Having successfully navigated the entirely male dominated medical industry in England alone for the past nine years, she could not allow such a show of weakness.

  Or, as the more vocal male medical practitioners of the day tended to say, a show of feminine hysterics.

  Smiling, unfortunately, was one of the many feminine traits the stolid surgeons of London believed telling in that regard.

  The satin of my bell-shaped skirt swayed as I stepped across the wooden platform. Thank the heavens for lack of a bustle, but the ever present corset felt too tight. The lace trim far too chafing. My leather boots squeaked in the frightfully still air of the room. A small bead of sweat trickled down between my shoulder blades; I ruthlessly ignored it.

  Henry sat in the front row of the meagre audience and offered up a disarming smile. Then followed it up with an altogether inappropriate wink.

  I ducked my head and averted my eyes, lest the entire room be made aware how close I was to winking back, and found myself staring at Mina’s empty seat. I swallowed past a dry throat and came to rest in front of Dr Garrett Anderson.

  Grey hinted at her temples, her hair tied up in a loose but perfunctory style. The starch of her collar looked painfully stiff, as did the pleats in her dark skirt. Shiny boots peeked out from beneath a rather dull looking hem. It never ceased to amaze me the lengths women in today’s society had to go to in order to appear less threatening to men.

  My hand itched to brush the length of my royal blue dress. My breasts heaved under the constraints of the matching buttons. I cleared my throat and lifted my chin to meet Dr Garret Anderson’s piercing gaze.

  “Anna Louisa Cassidy,” she repeated in that voice full of authority. “It is my great pleasure to award you first place in the graduating class of 1892.” She handed me a rolled up piece of paper, wax seal and ribbon adorned. The object was lighter than it should have been.

  For surely, such a prized possession could not weigh mere ounces?

  I gripped the document in my hand, realising I was shaking slightly. Tears welled in my eyes. My chest felt too tight; it wasn’t the corset. My gaze swept across the stage to Wilhelmina’s chair again. Perhaps her absence was fitting.

  My father should have been here but wasn’t.

  Dr Garrett Anderson touched my arm; a small show of solidarity. She understood. The fight. The wretched road to get here. The pieces of my soul the achievement had demanded.

  The fractures it had left in my heart.

  Hell is the plight of a woman meant for greater things.

  I sucked in a fortifying breath of air and met Elizabeth’s gaze.

  “Dr Cassidy,” she said and smiled.

  “Dr Garrett Anderson,” I replied, and curtsied.

  Controlled applause rang out in the auditorium. Henry’s the loudest of them all. I offered him a smile, then flicked my gaze across the stage to his sister. Emily’s beautiful grin beamed back at me. Her turn before the matron of the London School of Medicine for Women was next. Second in class.

  I bobbed one last curtsey to the crowd and made my way to the seats on the far side of the stage. Reminding myself to breathe. Willing myself to stay strong. So much was absent, making what was right feel so very wrong.

  I watched as Emily received her diploma, shared a cheek-kiss and squeeze of gloved fingers upon her arrival at the graduation seats, and then let my mind wander.

  Six months of hard work, barely any sleep, and constant pressure to perform above and beyond that of any male contemporaries, culminating in what should have been the moment of my glory felt somewhat hollow without one’s family. My eyes scanned the crowd, lest Mina had sat elsewhere. But the faces, although in some cases familiar, did not belong to my cousin.

  Worry had me nibbling my bottom lip. My fingers tightened on the scroll in my lap. Sounds became indistinct. I’m not a fanciful person. I rely more often than not on facts and the science of evidence before me.

  But in this, I was uncharacteristically scared.

  Mina often lost hours in the mews. Petting one horse or the other. She could spend half a day in front of the looking-glass, and not from any vanity. It may not have been the extravagance of Marble Arch, or the chaos of Paddington Station, or the gayness of the Venice in London spectacular at Olympia. It could have been something of the mundane.

  I closed my eyes as Dr Garret Anderson wound up the proceedings.

  I knew my cousin. I knew the many different ways she could have been waylaid.

  And I knew none of them was reason enough to miss this.

  My hand itched to pull from my reticule the latest missive courtesy of our secret paramour. The latest in a long line of love letters written in a fine hand, adorned with sweet smelling scents, all originating in the Dutch East Indies.

  Love letters. What a strange affair. A novelty, and yet even aware as I was of their ill intent, I couldn’t help thinking one thing.

  If only they had smelled of lemon and vinegar instead. Of honeysuckle and roses. Of sea salt and freshness. Of him.

  But I had neither heard nor seen sight of Inspector Kelly for half a year, and the thought of returning to Auckland shortly left me feeling… lost at sea.

  And now this.

  “Pray tell, Dr Cassidy,” Emily murmured from beside me. “Where is your cousin?”

  Where indeed?

  In Darkest London

  Anna

  “My dear doctors,” Henry said with all the affectedness of a fop. He flourished his top hat, making a show of bowing to both Emily and myself as we exited the auditorium. “What a splendid occasion. I dare say we should celebrate.”

  “Of course, brother,” Emily enthused, righting her breton atop her blonde curls in anticipation of a party. “Perhaps Dorothy’s on Mortimer?”

  Henry looked at his sister aghast, his moustache quivering. “You’d have me entertain in a women’s establishment? For horror, Em! I’d be eaten alive. A bachelor for breakfast.”

  “’Tis past noon,” Emily supplied. “And a Lady’s Restaurant Association venue is fitting for two young ladies who have graduated top of their class.” She offered up a delicate squeal. Most inappropriate for the setting. “Physicians. Imagine that!”

  I’d imagined it daily for decades.

  Henry laughed; a deep, throaty sound that had several passersby turn their heads and watch. Henry commanded attention wherever he went. It was feasible his assumptions were correct, and he would be eaten for breakfast at Dorothy’s. I cast my gaze over my friend’s brother, noting how well turned out he was today. He wore a dove-grey coat ending fashionably below his hips. The covered buttons matched his waistcoat. Dark trousers offered a steadying contrast. But his short turnover shirt collar was swamped, however, in a floppy bow tie.

  He noticed me staring at him and cocked his head, a small smirk emerging at the edges of his refined lips.


  “I was thinking,” he said, brandishing his walking stick as if it was a circus baton. It had me in mind of another walking stick, one used for a specific and much-needed purpose. I looked away. “Something more along the lines of Claridge’s or the Criterion. A little more our class, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Tosh!” Emily exclaimed. “Our class indeed.”

  He threw his arm around Emily’s shoulder in a much too familiar fashion, and whispered in her ear loud enough for me to hear, “Fine dining, good wine, exquisite company?” A wink over his shoulder at me followed, eliciting a giggle from Emily.

  “I do wonder sometimes, Dr Tempest,” I said, “how you managed to complete half a year in an operating theatre alongside me without so much as a chortle and yet five minutes past graduating you’re clucking like a chicken for all to see on Hunter Street.”

  “Chicken!” Henry hooted. “I say, that is marvellous! Cluck-cluck!”

  Emily offered me an abashed grin. “He is incorrigible, Dr Cassidy. I shall endeavour to rise above his jests. But I do so love having him around.”

  Henry harrumphed and then started swinging his cane again, adding a nonchalant whistle. His free hand slipped into his coat pocket with an air of insouciance as he kicked his feet up with shameless glee. Emily smiled fondly at him. She had been ecstatic when Henry had returned from his wandering at Christmastime. And I believed her brother felt much the same when he settled back into London society.

  Both of them were as corruptible as each other. Love did that to siblings, I thought; my mind wandering to Mina.