Emeline plucked at the bit of gathered ribbon on her sleeve. “It was a book of fairy tales, and we were very fond of it. I thought of it today for some reason.”
She stared thoughtfully at her plate, remembering. Nanny would often read to them outside after an afternoon picnic. Reynaud and she would sit on the picnic blanket as Nanny turned the pages of the fairy-tale book. But as the story progressed, Reynaud would creep unconsciously forward, drawn by the excitement of the tale, until he was nearly in Nanny’s lap, hanging on every word, his black eyes sparkling.
He’d been so alive, so vital, even as a boy. Emeline swallowed, carefully smoothing the raveled ribbon at her waist. “I only wondered where the book could be. Do you think it’s packed away in the attics?”
“Who can say?” Her aunt gave an eloquent and very Gallic shrug, dismissing the old book of fairy tales and Emeline’s memories of Reynaud. She leaned forward to exclaim, “But again I ask, why? Why do you even think to agree to take on this man and his sister who wears no shoes?”
Emeline forbore to point out that as of yet, they had no intelligence concerning Miss Hartley’s shoes or the lack thereof. In fact, the only Hartley she knew about was the brother. For a moment, she remembered the man’s tanned face and coffee-brown eyes. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know exactly, except that he obviously needed my help.”
“Ah, but if you took all who need your help, we would be buried beneath petitioners.”
“He said...” Emeline hesitated, watching the light sparkle on her wineglass. “He said he knew Reynaud.”
Tante Cristelle set down her wineglass carefully. “But why do you believe this?”
“I don’t know. I just do.” She looked helplessly at her aunt. “You must think me a fool.”
Tante Cristelle sighed, her lips drooping at the corners, emphasizing the lines of age there. “No, ma petite. I simply think you a sister who loved her brother most dearly.”
Emeline nodded, watching her fingers twist the wineglass in her hand. She didn’t meet her aunt’s eyes. She had loved Reynaud. She still did. Love didn’t stop simply because the recipient had died. But there was another reason she was contemplating taking on the Hartley girl. She felt somehow that Samuel Hartley hadn’t been telling her the whole truth of why he needed her help. He wanted something. Something that involved Reynaud.
And that meant he bore watching.
Chapter Two
Iron Heart walked for many days in the dark forest, and during that time, he met neither human nor animal. On the seventh day, the wall of trees opened up, and he emerged from the forest. Directly ahead of him lay a shining city. He stared. Never in all his travels had he seen such a magnificent city. But soon his belly rumbled, waking him from his awe. He needed to buy food, and in order to buy food, he must find work. So off he tramped into the city.
But though he inquired high and low, there was no decent work to be found for a soldier returning from war. And this is often the case, I think. For though all are happy enough to see a soldier when there is a war to be fought, after the danger is past, they look upon the same man with suspicion and contempt.
Thus it came about that Iron Heart was forced to take the job of a street sweeper. And this he did most gratefully....
—from Iron Heart
“I thought I heard you come in late last night,” Rebecca said as she placed some coddled eggs on her plate the next morning. “After midnight?”
“Was it?” Samuel replied vaguely. He was sitting at the breakfast table behind her. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Oh! Oh, no. You didn’t disturb me at all. That wasn’t what I meant.” Rebecca sighed inwardly and took the seat opposite her brother. She wanted rather badly to ask him where he’d been last night—and the night before that—but shyness and a certain hesitation held her tongue. She poured herself some tea and strove to open a topic of conversation, always a bit hard in the morning. “What are your plans for today? Are you conducting business with Mr. Kitcher? I...I thought if not, that we might go for a drive about London. I hear St. Paul’s Cathedral—”
“Damn!” Samuel set his knife down with a clatter. “I forgot to tell you.”
Rebecca felt a sinking in the pit of her belly. It’d been a long shot—her brother was so often busy—but she’d hoped nevertheless that he’d have time to spend with her that afternoon. “Tell me what?”
“We’ve been invited to tea by our next-door neighbor, Lady Emeline Gordon.”
“What?” Rebecca glanced involuntarily in the direction of the grand town house that adjoined their house to the right. She’d glimpsed her ladyship once or twice and had been awed by their neighbor’s sophistication. “But...but when did this happen? I didn’t see an invitation in today’s post.”
“I met her at the salon I attended yesterday.”
“Goodness,” Rebecca marveled. “She must be a very pleasant lady to invite us on such little acquaintance.” Whatever would she wear to meet a titled lady?
Samuel fingered his knife, and if she didn’t know better, she would’ve said her older brother was uncomfortable. “Actually, I asked her to chaperone you to some gatherings.”
“Really? I thought you didn’t like balls and social gatherings.” She was pleased, of course, that he’d thought of her, but his sudden interest in her schedule seemed rather odd.
“Yes, but now that we’re in London...” Samuel let his sentence trail as he drank some coffee. “I thought you might like to go out. See the city, meet some people. You’re only nineteen. You must be bored to death, rattling around this place with just me to keep you company.”
Well, that wasn’t quite true, Rebecca reflected as she tried to think of a reply. Actually, she was surrounded by many other people—servants. There seemed to be scores of servants in this London town house Samuel had rented. Just when she thought she’d met them all, an odd maid or bootblack boy who she’d never seen before would suddenly pop up. Indeed, right now there were two footmen standing by the wall ready to wait on them. One she thought was named Travers, and the other...fiddlesticks! She’d quite forgotten the other’s name, although she knew for certain that she’d seen him before. He had jetty hair and amazing green eyes. Not, of course, that she should be noticing the color of a footman’s eyes.