by Deb Marlowe
So things were moving quickly. Nardes was infecting Marstoke’s house with insects today and Tru was searching out a good hiding spot, in case they needed one. Preferably one on the shoreline where they could meet a ship, if necessary. It all meant that Letty might be under her roof within a matter of days.
Her roof. Callie had been enjoying herself, playing this role, pretending to be something that she was not. She reminded herself now of the real reason she was here. For Tru it would always be Marstoke, but for her, it was Letty. Letty again. And Letty for the last time.
But even that was not what occupied her all day as she peeled and chopped and rolled out dough. No, what circled in her mind endlessly were Hestia’s words—about taking something for herself from this adventure.
She was running out of time, if she meant to follow that advice.
“The dining room is filling up, ma’am,” Victoire came in, a little breathless.
“Good.” Callie began to unwrap her oversized apron. “Perhaps our reputation has begun to spread, my dear.” She grinned at the girl. “Now you start filling plates while I go take orders.”
They had a busy evening. Penrith and Rackham did not arrive, a fact for which Callie was grateful, as Tru was still out as well. She and the servants did well enough on their own, though, and as the hour grew late, Callie fixed a plate and set it to warm—and sent everyone else off to bed.
“You worked hard today,” she told Victoire. “I’ll finish the last of the pans. You go on up and get some rest.”
“Thank you, Madame.” The girl bobbed a curtsy, and gave her a shy smile before running up the servant’s stairs.
When the kitchen was pristine again, Callie sat and wrote to Hestia. That bit about Marstoke was worrying, especially after Nardes mentioned that the marquess had made Rennes the base for his searching. She readied the note for the post, then took a bit of mending with her and sat before the fire.
She was tired as well, and dozed a bit in her chair. The soft creak of the stair woke her when Victoire came back for a snack. She fed the girl some bread and cheese and a tart before sending her back upstairs.
The hour grew late. It must have been midnight when she awoke with a start to find Tru staring down at her, his smile warm, but his gaze hotter by a measurable amount.
That grin struck her, forced her to remain in the chair when she wished to leap to her feet. Why hadn’t she known that a single dimple could become such a great weakness? That the crease of tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes could steal her breath away?
“There you are,” she said, yawning, to hide how the shock of it had scrambled her reactions. The old excitement hit her, setting her pulse to racing and her nerves to jumping. But the old irritation he’d used to dredge up was long gone. There was a grudging respect there now, still a bit of impatience, and a great, burning curiosity that whispered to her with Hestia’s voice. “Take off that disreputable hat and I’ll get your dinner.”
“You shouldn’t have waited up,” he chided. “You rise so early.”
“Victoire is worried that we are not properly married,” she said with a shrug. “I thought to reassure her by waiting up for you with your favorite dish.”
“Why should the girl think we aren’t properly married?” he demanded.
“Because we don’t sneak caresses in the corners, I gather,” she said wryly, standing at last.
“Well. If that is what it takes,” Tru said with a laugh.
“Come and sit at the table. I saved your dinner.” She paused. “Unless you ate elsewhere?”
“When I could come home to your cuisine?” he scoffed. “Not a chance.”
She flushed a little. It was ridiculous how much that pleased her. She puttered about, fetching food and utensils. She poured him ale and took his hat to hang it on a hook by the door. “Why do you wear this thing, anyway?” It was broad brimmed and unkempt looking.
“Gaubert gave it to me. Beyond hiding my features a bit, he said a hat like that becomes a part of you. When people see it again and again, they cease to look past it.” He shrugged. “I figured it was worth a try.”
She sat across from him as he ate. “I fear we’ll have to try harder for Victoire’s sake. The poor dear. She lost her last position when the owner’s wife ran off with a traveling book salesman. He sold out and the new buyer divided the inn into offices. I think she fears losing another if we are not getting along and decide that working to get this place up and running is too much trouble.”
Tru made a face. “I’ll follow your lead on this one. The workings of a young girl’s mind are beyond me.” He sighed over a bit of roasted beef. “I don’t see how she could doubt you, in any case.” He raised his fork in salute. “You slid so seamlessly into this role, I’d think you were born to it, did I not know better.”
Callie colored. He didn’t know how close to the truth he’d hit. She paused. Perhaps it would not be so bad if he did know. He already knew the worst, after all. What harm could come from the rest?
“Not born,” she corrected. “But definitely raised to it.”
“How is that? I thought—”
“Yes, yes. Prince Ernest. All true,” she interrupted. “But my mother acted as housekeeper and cook in one of his residences.”
His face tightening, Tru set down his fork. “Do you mean to say that he abused a woman in his service?”
“No! Not at all. I’m sure the old devil has a multitude of sins laid at his door, but that isn’t one of them, that I’m aware of.” She grinned. “It’s almost the opposite, in fact.”
He started eating again. “Now this is a story I want to hear.”
She laughed. “My mother was born in this part of the world. I don’t know much about her early life. I wouldn’t be surprised if she grew up in a situation similar to this, though.” She looked around. “She traveled to Flanders, though, as a young woman. All the excitement was there, she said once. She met my father when he was stationed there with the Hussars. She became his mistress. Willingly, she always told me.”
“An odd conversation to have with one’s daughter, to be sure.”
“It was an odd life. Apparently, Ernest was injured and recalled home, and thought nothing more of her. He bid her farewell and left. But Mother had discovered she was with child and would have none of his casual goodbyes. She insisted on coming with him, and when he refused to bring her along, she packed her things and followed him to England.”
Tru stared. “She just showed up at his door?”
Callie nodded. “He tried to turn her away, but she would not back down. Eventually he deposited her in one of his residences and left.”
“What did she do?” Tru looked fascinated.
“She rolled up her sleeves and took over the running of the place.”
His jaw dropped. “He allowed it?”
“I don’t think she gave him a choice. She wasn’t having her baby in the streets and that was that.”
“I’m suddenly even more frightened of your stubborn streak.”
She laughed. “As well you should be. Although I don’t hold a candle to her, in that department. She had a will of iron.”
“And so you learned to run a household at her knee.”
Her head tilted. “That sums it up.”
“No wonder you seem a natural fit here.”
She stood, took his empty plate and slid a tart in front of him. “These are your undying favorites, by the way, in case Victoire asks.”
She bit back a grin as he took a bite and rolled his eyes in appreciation. They did say that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. She was beginning to suspect that the way to hers might be through appreciating her efforts in the kitchen. Certainly she enjoyed watching him relish her food. He threw himself into it, as he did with most things. And watching him taste and savor with closed eyes and a tilted head sent tight little tremors off in her lower abdomen. She felt his soft moan vibrate in the hollows behind her ears.
“I hope you don’t mind my saying it,” she began carefully, “but you’ve adapted to this role far more easily and thoroughly than I expected you might.”
He lifted a shoulder. “The impatience is still there, but I’m burying it under the work. If I’m only to have a minor role, at least I’ll play it well. And it does feel good to be doing something. I’m finding, too, that I rather enjoy the organizational aspects of the thing. I find myself thinking too, of the improvements I’d make around here, were this place really mine.”
“If only the Prince Regent could see you now,” she joked.
He stiffened.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she rushed to say. “I only meant it as a joke. I’d understood that you are one of his highness’s cronies.”
“I was, once.” There it was again, the rush of urgency to be done with this thing. To strike back at Marstoke, keep him from doing any further harm, and ease his own doubts in the process. To have the protection of his facade firmly back between him and the world.
He pushed it all away. He was having a good meal with a lovely girl. This was not the time to indulge his impatience or worry about his flaws. He searched instead for a way to distract her from such a line of thinking, as well.
“You know, I like making connections as well. Finding the best vintner, the most reputable coal dealer, striking a bargain that benefits all.” He shrugged. “Perhaps I can find a way to use those skills when we go back.”
“If you enjoy it, you most definitely should. Your brother has any number of estates, I’d wager. You should talk him into turning the running of one over to you. You’d do a bang-up job.”
“Would I?” He weighed the idea in his mind. “How do you know?”
“Because I’ve seen what you’ve done here in the last few days. I daresay you look as much at ease here as I do.”
“Well, I thought we were doing well, but if we haven’t convinced the scullery . . .” He fell silent for a moment. “And actually, I’m feeling a bit guilty. As much as I’m enjoying the feeling of being needed, this is all still pretend for me. But it’s not for these people.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.” He heard the sound of relief in her tone. “We need to make sure they will all be taken care of when this is over.”
“Precisely.” He eyed her with approval. “I’m glad you share my concerns.”
Callie was still turning over what he’d just said. “You enjoy being needed? Is that why you rescued that Russian girl from Marstoke’s bullies that night, and got yourself embroiled in all of this at the start?”
He straightened in his chair, his gaze narrowed at her. She didn’t think he was going to answer at all for a moment, the way he glared. But he relented after a moment, pushing his empty plate away and leaning an elbow on the table. “I suppose so,” he said gruffly. The distance in his eyes convinced her he was seeing something far removed from her cozy kitchen.
“You know,” he said eventually. “I do have a spot—just a spot, mind you—of empathy for Penrith and Rackham.”
The shock must have shown on her face—and look more like the disapproval he was likely used to from her.
“Not that I excuse their poor judgment or condone their actions, but I’ve been in their shoes,” he explained. “Sometimes it truly isn’t easy to be the second son, or the fourth, or the low-hanging fruit on the extra branches of the family tree.” He shook his head. “I never gave it a thought when my parents were alive, but after they were gone, my brother’s trustees and guardians practically ripped him away. They were so concerned with turning him into the perfect duke—and they never gave a thought or a word to me. I felt extraneous, unimportant. And then I was shipped off to school and out of the way.”
The thought of him as a lonely boy set off a twang in her chest. “But your brother cares for you. I’ve seen it.”
“He does. But he was young, too. There was only so much he could do.” He sighed and propped his chin on his hand. “I followed my peers into the usual ‘young buck about Town’ mischief for a while, but no one ever tells you that the drinking, gaming and wenching only fill the emptiness temporarily.” His shoulder lifted. “I tried other ways to fill my days. I had quite a cricket obsession at one point. But it was never enough.”
“And then you heard a girl in a garden call for help.” She of all people understood the temptation to respond.
“And like a fool, I rushed in,” he said bitterly.
“Not foolish, but brave and good-hearted,” she conceded. “And by all accounts, you acquitted yourself well that night. The rumors all had you mightily outnumbered.”
“Yes, I reveled in the attention and praise. I was quite proud of myself, until Marstoke came to call. I’d made a colossal mistake, he told me. He never quite used the word ‘spy’ but he made me understand that the girl was under suspicion and that I had ruined a long, expensive scheme to catch her at her mischief.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I still can’t believe how stupid I was. Why didn’t I see through him?”
“You don’t have to tell me how convincing the man is. He has the tongue of a serpent and a sharp, quick, clever mind. I’ve met girls he’s deceived. My best friend was once engaged to him. No one at Half Moon House would ever blame you for mistaking his lies for truth.”
“He’s damned clever,” Tru agreed. “He baits his lies with enough truth to make them utterly convincing. When he set me to rewriting the old Love List, I really did believe the money it earned would help offset the losses I’d caused with my interference. And when he said I was charged with keeping watch for subversive influences, for men and women who meant to work to undermine the government and the crown, I believed that too. I didn’t realize that he was the villain, until it was almost too late.”
“You did realize it, though. Your actions kept him from creating the international scandal he’d planned for, in the end.”
He heaved a sigh and eyed her carefully. “I know you and Hestia despised me for it—and I was initially disgusted when I was first told how I would have to make amends—but actually, after I’d been at it a while, I was glad the task of rewriting the List had been handed to me.”
“I remember how the girls vied for your attention, trying to secure a place on the List.” Callie fought off an entirely inappropriate surge of jealousy.
“I was shocked to find how many girls wished to be included.”
“Everyone has heard tales of the old List, and how it increased the custom for those who were featured.”
“Yes, but the older versions could be biting, and more than a little demeaning. After I had spent some time in that world and got to know so many of the women, I wished to do better for them. I was glad of the chance to treat them more gently.”
There it was again. The soft melting of her insides. The more she saw past his brittle shell of relentless determination, the more she actually liked him—and the more she wished to see. “I saw a copy of your manuscript. You did do a kind job of it, even if it never made it to print. And you refused to write those horrible lies about Hestia and the rest of us at Half Moon House. Not one of us will ever forget that.”
He started to speak, but she cut him off. “Please. This isn’t easy for me, but I’m trying to find the courage to say something to you. I know that all you want to do is to go back—back to your life the way it was before any of this happened. I know, also, that I gave you a lot of trouble right after Marstoke fled, but I want to say that, even though I’m sorry it’s been difficult for you, I’m glad it was you.”
He made a sound of protest, but she hurried on. “I am. I’m glad for that Russian girl. Glad for the girls in Covent Garden you befriended, for Stoneacre and the Prince Regent and the whole country—everyone you helped when you helped to foil Marstoke’s plans.” She sucked in a breath. “But I’m glad for me, too.”
Good heavens, but this was hard. She’d spent a lifetime learning to protect herself, developing her defensive instincts. Battling them now
was far more difficult than facing down a pair of thugs in an alley. She glanced away. It was easier if she didn’t have to see the conflicting emotions crossing the chiseled fields of his face. “This trip, these last few days, they’ve been good for me. I’ve settled some things in my mind. Hestia is right. I do have to begin to trust someone sometime. I have to stop closing myself off. I need to learn how to share pieces of myself—and I’ve begun. With you.”
She heard him shift back away from the table, but she refused to look at him, afraid she would see rejection or worse—pity—in his eyes. “You’ve been up close and immersed in the world I live in. You’ve seen the contrast of the horror and beauty that live there.” Her shoulders hunched a little. “You understand. It’s a small thing. Yet, it’s vast, too. You’ve been kind with me when I perhaps didn’t deserve it.” She swallowed, then forced herself to forge on. “I don’t think I could have shared my history with anyone else.”
She pressed her lips into a grim smile and turned at last to look at him. “For all of that, I thank you.”
He stared at her with an entirely new expression on his face. She couldn’t quite decipher it. Before she had more than a moment to try—she froze.
There it was once more. The quiet creak of a footstep on the stairs. Victoire again? Or Marie? It didn’t really matter. Thinking quickly, she stood and slid the small plate away from Tru. “Now that you’ve eaten,” she purred. “Why don’t you finish with something sweet?”
He gaped at her, but she did not hesitate. Moving sinuously, she slid into his lap.
He sat frozen, blinking up at her. She touched the spot where his fake sideburns hid his scar and inclined her head toward the passageway. “On the stairs,” she whispered.
Comprehension dawned. The rigid swell of his chest relaxed beneath her hands. Fighting back a grin, he settled his hands around her waist. “That tart was enough to satisfy any man’s sweet cravings.”