The girl required constant attention and instruction. It was exhausting, especially when Kitty’s patience was already worn so thin. Had she been as insufferable as an apprentice? If so, she owed her former employer an apology. “Yes, Alyssa. Do not leave them to wrinkle in the pot.”
Alyssa mumbled something about forgetting, then slammed the door shut. The sound pounded in Kitty’s head. She put her elbows on the table. The bottle of coca wine upstairs beckoned. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d taken the drug to make it through the day.
She wiped her forehead with her sleeve, but instead of absorbing sweat, the fabric squished against her head. She lowered her arm and grimaced. It looked as if she’d dunked her arm in a bucket of water. She pulled her gown away from her chest, and it made a sucking sound.
Great.
The creak of the front door opening made her turn. Cordon entered the shop, looking handsome in an orange-and-black-striped linen wool. The construction was remarkable, with pearl buttons and clean, sharp lines that accentuated the curve of his shoulders.
Those thoughts and more went through her mind in the few seconds it took for him to look around the shop and find her. Then his eyes lit up.
A fluttering began in her chest. She’d never forget feeling his hands on her inner thighs, or his fingers on her quim. With him, she’d experienced a sense of freedom and exhilaration that she hadn’t felt in years.
Now he was looking at her with such happiness that it made her want to run and crush herself against his chest.
Oh, no.
She forced her lips to a smile as he approached. Despite her better judgment, she’d grown to care for him. What a fool she was, pining for a man who would never consider her anything more than a pleasant distraction. He had the wealth to enjoy his life one day at a time, with no need to spare a moment to consider how he’d pay his rent or feed himself.
The longer she allowed their relationship to continue, the more likely it would break her heart when he left.
She held her hand up as he strode toward her.
He stopped. “What’s wrong?”
She stepped toward him, realized her legs were about to fail, and stopped. Something was very wrong, but she would figure itout when he left. He was still a customer, no matter how the lines between them had blurred.
He stepped closer and clasped her hands. “I came to apologize. You were correct. It was selfish of me to impose on your time. If you are still willing, I would like to proceed with my list whenever your schedule allows.”
The movement of his fingers on her hands told her something else. His thumb along her wrist saidI missed youand the gentle touch of palm to palm saidI care about you.
It only made what she had to do that much more painful.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t help you.”
“Is it the money?” he asked. “I-I’ll double what I’m paying you.”
Why did he have to be like her mother and make this so difficult? She picked up a broom and swept it aggressively across the floor. “Why must it be me?”
“I need you,” he whispered.
She turned. “Youneedme?”
In that moment, he looked fragile, as if a nudge could knock him over. She leaned her broom against a wall and faced him, arms folded. “What do you mean?”
“Can we discuss this upstairs?” He looked around the shop. “I do not wish anyone to overhear.”
That was a reasonable request, although if he thought he could seduce her into changing her mind, then he would be sorely disappointed. She led him upstairs and when they were inside her cramped room, she bustled over to a small kitchen and removed a kettle from a cabinet, along with a tin of tea. When she turned, he was settled on her thin bed, squeezing his hands in his lap.
“Every man in my family has died before their fiftieth birthday,” he said. “It starts with exhaustion, stiffening ofmuscles. Then marks. Bruises. Wounds that take much longer to heal than most.”
Kitty clasped her cup between her hands, even though the heat was uncomfortable, and the floor felt like it was tilting. Cordon’s illness explained much. His obsession with novelty and excitement. The lack of concern for his own safety. He’d lived his life under the expectation he would have a rather terrible end.
It was tragic, and as such, it did what he’d undoubtedly intended: It made her feel sympathy for him. At the same time, Kitty recognized manipulation when it on display before her. A lifetime of watching her mother use her tears as a weapon had hardened Kitty’s heart. She would not be so easily swayed into making another mistake that might cost her the future she’d dreamed about for years. The masquerade had been thrilling, but it had also reminded her why she wasn’t like the rest of her family. They were always trying to fit in with their social betters, doing whatever it took to be accepted, caring little about how their choices might impact them in the long-term. Meanwhile, Kitty was very familiar with sacrifice. She’d given up so much in pursuit of her dream. Potential suitors, beautiful dresses and jewels, and now the attention of a handsome man.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry that you’ve had to live with this on your shoulders for so long. But it doesn’t change my answer. I must focus on my business.”
His jaw dropped open. Obviously, he’d been expecting that his tale would move her into agreeing to whatever he wanted.
