1822: Byron's young illegitimate daughter dies in an Italian convent, sent away from the mother who adored her. 1838: young Alice Clarke, unhappily married to a brutal man, is pursued on London's streets by a mysterious Greek man and a cloaked woman. Alice is in love with a man she can never have: a sea captain sailing the perilous route to India around Africa. When her lover vanishes on a voyage, Alice's pursuers draw her into an increasingly tense game of cat and mouse running between the early Victorian squalor of London's Rookeries and the splendour of its Mayfair squares. A murder in Regent's Park only reinforces the message that Alice is involved in a very dangerous game, but how is she linked to a notorious group of English poets living in Italy sixteen years earlier?
Genre: FICTION / HistoricalNot much to say, so far!
One
London, November 1838
Under my fingers John Osborne’s skin felt like butter or that very soft calfskin found on the covers of precious volumes. His scent was of bay leaves, lime and spices: cardamom, cinnamon and coriander, which my husband would no doubt consider too warming and my aunt, too pagan. I could not resist running my tongue along John’s chest and down towards his navel, where a few hairs wound their way up towards the scar, now white and nearly healed. His breath jerked as I maintained my downward course. I could almost feel the blood pulsing through his veins. A spell bound us: London could have crumbled to the ground around us and we would not have noticed. I was enjoying heaven even while I put myself in hock to hell.
At this moment I truly cast off Alice and became Allegra. Now, at last, Alice and her sprig muslins and coy bonnets became Allegra with the silks and velvets. Alice nibbled on sweetbreads; Allegra swallowed oysters whole.
‘Roll over,’ he said, a hand stroking my face to halt my tongue’s journey. ‘Or else you will undo me too soon. Unless the wounds still hurt your back?’
‘No.’ Martin took a leather belt to my back last week, but my body was young and healthy and healed fast. ‘Yours?’
‘I had already forgotten it.’
Arms wide, legs open, Allegra welcomed John Osborne, and it was a whole-hearted, wanton greeting that made his eyes widen in surprise. And soon my eyes were widening, too. Alice would have bitten her lips to avoid crying out and disturbing Mrs Richardson next door. Allegra muttered words in Italian she did not even know she recalled and God damn Mrs Richardson if she heard.
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Translated by emiliadepaola
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Author review: Very conscientious translator with a good feel for literary and the more unusual forms of English. Emilia will always ask for a steer on language and usage if she is unsure of something so you don't have to worry that something is being misinterpreted and possibly mistranslated, and she is very good at keeping you updated with progress on the translation and any likely delays or other issues. She is friendly and approachable. Recommended translator. |
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