Belladonna

a layer of skin off a man's hide.
    "My mother always says kindness begets kindness, Torry said meekly.
    Glorianna stared at him. Then she sighed and picked up her pack. "Your mother is right. Mothers always are."

    *
Doreen walked toward the boardinghouse, too tired to reel discouraged. She'd been out and about since morning, doing what she could to meet the right sort of gentlemen, and here it was suppertime and not even a flirtation to show for the effort. But how was she supposed to be seen when she couldn't afford to be seen? Her best outfits were out of fashion, and there was no chance of doing anything about that because everything cost more than she'd expected.
    Maybe she should have gone a little farther and stopped at another excuse for a village like Foggy Downs. She could have lived pretty for a month on what wouldn't last more than a week here in Kendall. Or maybe she should have gotten passage on a ship heading north. Or even take a walk through a pair of Sentinel Stones to see if she would end up in another part of Elandar that would be more to her liking.
    She'd find someone. She had to. She wasn't going back to Foggy Downs. She was going to find ...
    Someone like him — that middle-aged, elegant gentleman walking toward her with his lips curved in a hint of a mysterious smile. He looked like he would know what to do with a woman.
    "I beg your pardon," he said. "I noticed you earlier today, but could not find anyone to introduce me."
    She lowered her eyes, then gave him a flirtatious look through her lashes. "I've just recently come to town and don't, as yet, have any particular friends." But if his purse matched the quality of is suit, he might become a very special friend.
    "Then, please. Allow me to escort you back to your lodgings. A lady should not be walking alone after dark."
    It seemed a bit odd that, having mentioned a lack of introductions, he hadn't offered his name or asked for hers. But she pushed that thought aside. He was the first man who had shown interest in her, and he looked like he could afford to be generous.
    "Maybe we could go somewhere first since it's such a pleasant evening. I would like to get to know you better," Doreen said, smiling. If she could talk him into buying dinner, she'd save a little off her room and board
    "Yes," he said, returning the smile. "I think we could do that."
    Another footfall. A scrape of boots on cobblestone. Something sly about the sound.
    The round little merchant tightened his hand on his walking stick. He didn't have a packet for the home safe tonight. Didn't even have enough coin to stop in a tavern and have a pint. Not that he would since that would make him late for dinner, and his wife had told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't waiting dinner for him again. If he was late, he could eat what was left and eat it cold.
    So he was going home at the proper time. Plenty of people on the street. But ...
    That sly sound. A heavy footfall trying to stay quiet.
    Plenty of people about. Plenty of carriages on the streets, taking people home or taking them to some evening social engagement.
    Nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear. Nothing ...
    The footsteps stopped. Vanished. Then something laughed.
    He stood frozen as the sound crawled over him. As the light from the streetlamps became oddly veiled. As the sounds of carriages and ordinary life faded.
    Then he heard another sound, more an exhalation than a word.
    "Pleeeease."
    Turning slowly, his leg muscles protesting the effort, he realized he had stopped at the mouth of an alley. There was something in the alley, just beyond the light thrown by the streetlamp.
    Was that a woman's arm? Perhaps one of those mannequins that some of the clothing stores had imported from another country. The wife and some of her lady friends were talking about setting up a committee to protest the use of such things in store windows, claiming the sight of limbs caused unseemly thoughts in young men.
    He didn't think all the young men in Kendall had two thoughts between them when it came to artificial limbs, female or otherwise, but saying that to his wife might make it sound as if he'd had a thought or two about the matter. Which he didn't.
    Except to envy the merchants who could afford such an extravagance.
    Yes, it was probably a mannequin's arm, left here as a schoolboy prank.
    Nothing artificial about the sound, something whispered. Someone could need help.
    He shuffled his feet, uncertain about what he