Chapter 1. Rescued
Slumped against the brick wall of London’s Nursemaids’ Tunnel, he groaned, spat out curses, anchored to his spot, afraid to move away out of some alcohol induced superstition.
Entrance to the Nursemaid’s Tunnel.
They sped through the streets until he stood before the gates of a lonely, elegant estate, on a wide, quiet street. The gate, a towering creation of wrought iron, swung open.
…She ushered him up the curved staircase, into a lavish bedroom, suited to a man’s taste, with a mahogany, canopied bed, richly dressed in satin and velvet pillows, somber hues, deep reds and midnight blue, and a small pillow of royal purple with silver tassels. “This should fill your body’s requirements,” she said.
“It was time for him to fly,” she replied.
“In one of those air balloons?” Ibarra waited for an answer, but she said no more.
