Chapter Five

C hapter F ive

L ucy wasn't enjoying herself. Not one iota.

Not that wandering about London with a strange man ought to be enjoyable, but she would have preferred being stuck in that dingy flat than this.

She wasn't saying a word, as instructed, and there was something about silently walking beside a man she barely knew that was exasperating.

She couldn't admit to having as much control over her face, though. Heaven knew, that was contorting and scowling and eye-rolling more loudly than she had ever done in her entire life.

But Trick, whoever and whatever he was, couldn't hear it, and therefore, had no scolding for her.

It was a delightful game she was playing with herself, if she could manage to keep her giggles contained.

So far, she had succeeded.

Perhaps she was enjoying herself, then. Just in that respect.

Her stomach rumbled loudly with hunger, reminding her yet again that they hadn't encountered anything remotely resembling food, and yet Trick had spoken with at least three people. She'd lost count during the second person, as a stray dog had yapped across her path, pawing at her skirts with his front legs and following her for a time. With her focus so completely distracted by a far more attractive, and attentive, creature, it was entirely possible that he had managed another person or two before this one.

And still, there was no food in her belly.

But she wasn't supposed to talk. She was just supposed to stand here silently, stomach rumbling indelicately, and wait for Trick to decide where they went and what they did.

If anyone was doing anything to find her father, she wasn't aware of it, which made her wonder why she was even here with Trick.

All she knew, besides her hunger, were the idiotic rules he had given her as they had left his lodgings. She had listened for a while, but once he hit number nine, she had completely tuned him out. The day was fine, and this was London, and this was a portion of the city she had never seen. She was going to look at it, and she was going to allow herself to indulge her curiosity while it was safe to do so. She could not wander, and she could not speak, but by heaven, she could observe.

It was an interesting thing, these poorer streets of London. Children laughed more freely than they did in Mayfair or Cheapside. The streets bustled more, for certain, and with far less attention to detail or politeness. She had seen plenty of women out and about, most of them carrying baskets or children or animals, but some of them simply striding out on their daily business, whatever that happened to be.

Lucy was desperate to ask one of them what their business was. What did they do all day? What occupied their waking hours? Were they free to simply raise their children or did they have employment as well? How did they manage both? What dangers did they face in their lives here?

And what of the younger women? She saw fewer of them. She presumed they were more likely occupied as servants in households or the like.

But a few quick glances around proved that Trick had been quite right—her gown had been too fine for the setting and the coat was certainly needed. She would have been gawked at, if not robbed, had she gone out as she was, or in any of the clothes that had been in her trunk.

One must give credit where credit was due, she supposed.

She glanced over at him, still talking with a small man with beady eyes and crooked teeth, and sighed, putting a hand to her stomach as it growled furiously.

Trick glanced over his shoulder at her, and she blanched, hoping she looked apologetic. He couldn't possibly get angry with her for something her stomach did. It was entirely outside of her control and unintentional. Surely, he had to know that.

He looked back to his companion, said a few words more, then stepped away and gestured for Lucy to come with him.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, still clutching at her stomach. "I didn't mean—"

"I am well aware that you are hungry, Lucy," Trick overrode without concern. "I have heard your stomach's complaints all morning."

Her face flushed in embarrassment, much as she hated to be mortified in front of him. "I did apologize."

Trick scoffed softly, his long strides taking some effort to keep pace with. "I'm not scolding you, for pity's sake. I've been gathering information on that topic as well as the others. I am not entirely selfish. I've just been given the name of a bakery a few blocks away where hand pies can be got for cheap."

Lucy's stomach roared in approval, and she forced her feet to keep up with him. "I really hope I don't get in your way today," she murmured.

"Rule ten, Lucy."

She scowled. "I won't do this all day, but I can tell you have things to do, and I feel as though I am a ball and chain at your ankle."

He barely glanced at her. "I am more than capable of adapting my tasks to your presence. If I weren't, I wouldn't have taken you on."

"Oh no?" Lucy asked, more irked by the complete superiority in his tone than anything else. "What would you have done, then? After feeling that you had to intervene last night for my sake, even if you did think I was someone useful to you at first, what would you have done if I were in the way?"

"Left you with someone else who could tend you. Simple."

The urge to bite his ankles like an angry lapdog suddenly raged through her veins, and she clasped her hands together to keep from dropping to the ground in an attempt to begin. "How magnanimous. You are such a gentleman."

Something about that made Trick snort a hint of laughter. "Actually, I am a gentleman."

Lucy almost tripped on the perfectly level street. "You cannot be."

"Cannot," he repeated, nodding to himself. "Well, that settles that. I'll let the world know."

Shaking her head, Lucy folded her arms. "That is not… No gentleman would be like this."

"Like what? Am I rude? Am I disrespectful? Am I so ungallant?"

He was baiting her, and what was worse, it was working. "You live like this!" she insisted, flinging one arm out to indicate the way he was dressed. "Your lodgings are what they are, and you… a gentleman would never."

"Oh, and a gentleman has never lived below his privileges, has he?" Trick asked with a voice full of derision. "I see. You'll have to forgive me. I haven't properly behaved for a woman in some time. Haven't had to."

"That is not at all surprising." Lucy ground her teeth together, focusing her attention on a slow-driving hack up ahead.

There wasn't anything fascinating about it, nor anything particularly strange. It was simply a moving object in her line of sight and did not answer to the name of Trick. If she had any way of actually avoiding him for the rest of the day, she would have done so, but she needed him to get anywhere safely and to find her father.

Besides, as irritated as she was, Lucy had to admit that she was not brave. Not in the least. She could never be so bold as to stride out on her own and trust her instincts. She didn't even have instincts in that regard. She was as utterly useless in the real world as any other Society miss, no matter how she might hope to be different.

She was not better informed, better prepared, or in any way aware of what actual dangers could present themselves at any time, which meant she was in no way equipped to cope with them.

What sort of a life and education had she even had?

"Surely, I haven't offended you with my frankness," Trick suddenly said, and Lucy could feel his eyes on her face.

She shook her head. "No, I am simply irked that I even have to be here with you. That I cannot go off and find my father on my own. That, however inconvenient it might be for either of us, I am a young lady of breeding and, as such, completely helpless right now. I feel like a blossom on a tree."

Trick grunted once. "You'll have to explain that one to me."

Lucy sighed and lowered her arms to her side, letting them swing in a natural pattern as she walked. "Tree blossoms are only there early in the spring, aren't they? Pretty to look at, but ultimately useless and short lived. Because trees have leaves when they are in bloom, not blossoms. I would much rather be a leaf right now."

The man beside her said nothing for a moment, his footsteps more scraping than clipped against the hard stone beneath their feet. "Eh," he eventually murmured, "leaves are overrated."

There was something oddly amusing in that response, and Lucy found herself smiling in spite of herself. "No, they aren't."

Trick nodded quickly. "Yes, they are. Once the leaves come out, they're all the same. Sure, each tree has leaves that are shaped a little differently, and maybe a shade or two off another, but they're just leaves. And then in the autumn, the leaves die, and they fall and make an awful mess of things. Blossoms on trees, on the other hand. That makes people smile and hope and look forward. We forget that leaves are all the same, and we're just excited to see anything on the tree branches. Blossoms are only there for a short time, and if you miss them…" He made a quick sweeping gesture with his hand. "They're gone. And you won't see them again until the next year, if you're lucky."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lucy scolded, though it was difficult to not feel a little touched and a little playful. "You know what I am trying to say, and I don't actually care about leaves or blossoms."

"It's your analogy," he pointed out. "I'm only trying to support it."

She rolled her eyes. "I mean ladies. Of my station."

He looked at her, his eyes wide with exasperation. "I know. I told you, I'm a gentleman, remember?"

"You are not."

"I am," he insisted with a quick lift of his chin. "Believe it or not, I'm in line to be a viscount. Once my uncle dies, that is. Not looking forward to it. I've always found the House of Lords an abysmal prospect."

It was even more preposterous than before, and Lucy barked a laugh. "You're just teasing me."

"I never tease about politics or inheritance," came his all-too-sage reply.

Lucy sputtered in mockery. "Why have we never met, then?" she asked pointedly.

He shrugged. "Probably because your parents, guardian, or chaperone know full well to keep you clear away from me. That and it's been five years or so since I've been in any respectable gathering. Don't worry, though. I'm not half as horrible as they say."

"That is exactly what a villain would say."

"I know," Trick said without hesitation. "I fed the gossips the stories about me. Did I say half as horrible? Three quarters. I'm no saint, but I'd not have much to confess in church."

Lucy gave him a disparaging look. "You go to church?"

"Every Sunday," he quipped. "Best nap of the week."

Lucy couldn't help it, she began to laugh merrily and heartily, her irritation with the man beside her not necessarily gone, but certainly falling into the background of everything else for the time being. The idea of Trick being a gentleman was amusing enough, but to hear him claim he went to church only to sleep there…

Well, that she could certainly see.

She had no idea if Trick was laughing along with her, and quite frankly, she didn't care. It felt so good to be able to laugh without fear or worry, and to forget, for just a moment, that she was an inconvenience and lost in a lower part of London than she had ever seen, that she had been nearly abducted last night, and that she had no idea what was going on or where the day would lead. She was just laughing in London, and that was almost like being home.

Almost.

"You have a nice laugh," Trick told her as she began to settle. "Not too high-pitched or giddy sounding, and not braying or wheezing. It's very natural."

"Thank you?" Lucy shook her head at the ridiculousness of the statement. "I'd say that I try, but I really don't. This is just how I laugh."

Trick grinned at that and turned at the corner. "I suspect, Lucy, that most things you do are just the way you do them."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked with some interest, hurrying to catch up to him.

He held up a finger and entered the bakery, waving her behind him. "Two of your morning pies, please. Freshest you've got."

"Cost 'ee extra, 'ansum," came the reply from the portly woman with flour on her cheek.

"'Course it will, and I'll pay." His accent became perfectly common in the conversation, and Lucy obediently kept her mouth shut, marveling at his ability to blend in so well. He certainly looked the part, there was no question, but to go from a middling accent that could float upper class to one that squarely put him far, far beneath without taking so much as a breath for the change was extraordinary.

He certainly hadn't sounded fine and prim in his conversation with her, no matter how he claimed to be a gentleman, but she had heard accents like his in drawing rooms and at suppers before. Climbers, her father called them as he steered her away from any using such tones. The distaste was always evident, which was rich, considering her father was the most desperate climber she knew.

But he came by his status honestly, he was always saying, no matter how he lived as though it were being taken from him.

Two hand pies were passed to Trick, and he slid several coins across the counter with a wink. "For your fine service."

"Come back anytime," the woman said with meaning.

Trick dipped his chin and turned to Lucy, nudging his head towards the door. She hurried out and then turned to him expectantly.

He handed her a still-warm pie and sighed. "There you go. That should keep your stomach quiet for now."

"Does it always work like that for you?" she asked as she cradled the pastry in her hands.

"Like what?" He bit into his pie, exhaling slowly from the heat.

She pointed behind them at the bakery. "That. Flirtation and bribery."

He laughed once, swallowing. "That's just the way things are down here. She doesn't mean anything by it, and I don't either. I paid a little extra because they did us a favor, and maybe the next time I come by, they'll be even more useful." He gave her a quick look. "Are you judging?"

Lucy shook her head, taking a small bite of her pie. "No, just curious."

"You don't see much of the world, do you, Lucy?"

There was no judgment in that question either, nor pity. Just a simple statement.

And unfortunately, it was true.

"No, I don't," she admitted around her bite. "More than some girls of my station, thanks to my father's habits, but I'm not well traveled or well rounded. I've learned more in one term of teaching than any of my students, and it has nothing to do with the topics I've been assigned. The girls I teach… Some of them are part of a program run at the Miss Masters's School called the Rothchild Academy."

"I've heard of it," Trick said simply, though he added nothing else.

Lucy acknowledged that with a nod. "They take poor girls, usually foundlings, and educate them. When they have reached a certain degree of accomplishment, they are then placed in the main classes on the Miss Masters's side with the finer students. It is an extraordinary thing to see their progress, and especially to know that, unlike a great deal of the typical students, they will actually put it to use as businesswomen or governesses or housekeepers—some sort of occupation—whereas the upper-class students will simply be considered accomplished and might even forget it all, depending on what kind of husband she has and how she wants her children to be brought up."

Trick hummed softly. "Seems like a waste of information for those who won't use it."

"I agree," Lucy admitted, taking another bite. "I shouldn't even be allowed to be a teacher, with my father's opinions. But he cannot deny that we need money, and the institution is so well respected that he couldn't refuse when the letter requesting me came."

"Requesting you?" Trick swallowed his bite quickly, shaking his head with a whistle. "I've never heard of a finishing school recruiting teachers who had not applied."

"Well…" Lucy hedged, grimacing for herself alone.

Now Trick nearly choked, this time with laughter. "You didn't."

She nodded, still wincing. "I did. My friend Emmeline was a teacher there and encouraged me to apply, and when the headmistress agreed, she also agreed to write to my father personally and request that I join her staff in a teaching capacity to, and I quote," she paused to formalize her tone, ‘"help mold the minds and behaviors of the finest young ladies in England.'"

"Nicely done," Trick praised, still laughing. "And I suppose your father could not refuse such an honor?"

"Precisely." Lucy shook her head as she bit into her pie. "I had to appear shocked and a little dismayed at taking up an occupation for his sake, but once I allowed him to convince me of how it would help our station, I was quite amenable to the idea."

"I should say so!" He smiled at her, something almost like pride mingling with his mischief. "Perhaps you don't always do things just the way you should. You've a bit of the actress about you, in your own way."

Lucy peered up at him, confused. "There you go again. What are you talking about?"

He pressed his tongue to his teeth, his lips puckering just the slightest. "Lucy, in my line of work, nobody tells the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway. Nobody behaves naturally, nobody speaks as they truly do, nobody does anything in their own way. It is all pretense and hiding something or other. It's not a problem, since I do it too, for my reasons, but that's the way of it. And it has been so long since I've met somebody who doesn't behave that way, think that way, talk that way, that I'm finding myself a trifle refreshed by it."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she asked, even more confused now. "I don't know if refreshed is a good thing or a bad thing."

"Quite honestly, I don't either," he admitted. "I don't know what to make of it. Or you. I suppose I could make a case for your personal, if natural, integrity, but we haven't known each other long enough for that word to come into it."

She shook her head at once. "Definitely not. And it's a little patronizing."

He wrinkled up his nose. "It is, isn't it? I could say you have no artifice? Is that applicable?"

"I suppose, but it still doesn't sound like a compliment."

"Do you need it to be a compliment?"

Lucy thought about that as she chewed on another bite of pie. "I suppose not. I've never liked artifice, and I don't need it in my life. But in yours, it probably serves well."

"Yes, it does. So artifice is what it is, depending on who you are, I suppose." He took her arm gently and pulled her a little closer as they neared a cluster of people. "Bit of a serious topic for gadding about London, isn't it?"

"A little, yes," she admitted, chuckling easily. "Why don't you show me your favorite thing about this part of London while we're out and about? If there's time, I mean."

"My favorite thing?" he repeated in disbelief. "You think I have favorite things about this part of town?"

Lucy gave him a bewildered look. "Of course! Why else would you stay?"

"Because I have to. It's… it's not as simple as wanting or liking." He seemed a trifle uncomfortable with the line of questioning, but he wasn't shutting her up, so that was something.

"If we haven't found my father right away," Lucy ventured, finding a hint of bravery within her, "then you have to show me something you like about this part of town. Something I wouldn't know, in my experience."

"Oh, I have to?"

"Yes," she insisted. "If it inconveniences you, drop me off somewhere else. Otherwise, you have to."