But Patrick caught the very tips of my fingers at the last possible moment, still sitting back in the shadows of the coach, and his expression swallowed me. I watched a thousand words pass over his lips, felt the tingling warmth that passed from his skin to mine.
“They belong to you,” he said, voice grave. “Make sure they know it.”
And I looked away, lest I be captured again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONETHEO
Theo and Nina entered the dining room of Rickers hand in hand, Tamir ahead of them, and Theo’s chest brimming with dread.
On his last visit here, he’d been thirteen. His father had taken him to the smoking room, said “This is your chance to prove you’re a man of some worth,” then tendered him round a circle of aristocrats, mistresses hanging off their elbows. Theo had spoken well, he thought, laughing diplomatically when it seemed right. He’d smoked his first cigar, encased vomit in his cheek, and swallowed on his next inhale. His father had been proud of that, Theo thought—that his son hadn’t gagged in front of his fellows.
There had been a man named Gumble: a fire Charmer, semiretired from his military career. He was pigeon-chested, generically handsome in the way of most heroes. He wore pins awarded to him by the Head of House and spoke about them at length. In the late hours, he drew young Theo aside, sloshed neat scotch onto his own chest, and said, “See any you like?” He was gesturing to the women strewn about the room—all of them Crafters—feigning interest against bookshelves, staring blankly out windows, or else nursing Artisan men in their deteriorating states.
Theo knew this game. Gentlemen did not blush or concede. He had looked Gumble in the eye, fashioned a smirk, and said “Thatone.”
In truth, he hadn’t an eye for any of them. He was still just thirteen, and these women were all old. The woman he’d nodded to at random wasrake-thin and wore too many necklaces for comfort. There was so much rouge on her cheeks, you could hardly see the shadows beneath. She was only pretty if you could see past the desperation.
“Then I’ll be having that one,” Gumble had said, finishing the remnants in his glass. “You’ve got to be careful with the Crafter girls, son. Mostly they’re diseased. You have to check them over very thoroughly first.” His eyes took on a manic glint then, like some bolt in his mind had suddenly snatched free. “Youcan check her for me.” He declared it as though a favor had been traded, passed generously from his hand and into Theo’s.
That was how Theo had found himself inside a coat closet with a much older Crafter woman, and she’d looked, momentarily, as though she might cry.
And Theo had thought,Does a gentleman bring a woman, any woman, to tears?
He hadn’t checked her for disease, whatever that meant. He hadn’t done a single thing other than look into the dank diminutive light of the closet and wish to be swallowed by it.
After a moment of stillness, of silence, he’d simply exited the closet and left her there, winking to Gumble, who’d watched on with a moronic smile. He’d dedicated himself to a corner for the remainder of the evening.
Later, after he’d been bid good night and sent back upstairs to the suite owned by the Shop family, he’d passed that same Crafter woman again, this time in an upstairs parlor, the doors wide open. And with her was not just Gumble, but two of his compatriots, all in states of hasty undress, bull-eyed and gleaming.
And the Crafter woman looked not at Theo, but through him, as though neither of them were truly there at all.
It only occurred to Theo now, that those women might have had children at home. Maybe partners, as well. Perhaps leasing the warmth of their flesh was better than the mines, better than the mills and factories.
Theo shuddered. He’d spent enough time in the mines now to know that he never wanted to be belowground again, that he’d do a good number of ungentlemanly things to avoid it.
Tamir was greeted by a man in a red suit jacket and white gloves, who resembled a ringmaster but was more likely a maître d’.
“Meester Peters!” Tamir exclaimed, and reached out to clasp the man’s small hand in both of his.
“Tamir,” Peters said tightly and in a way that inferred reluctance. His eyes swept quickly to Theo and Nina. “These are your guests?”
“And what fine guests they will be,” Tamir offered, bowing low enough that he might press his lips to Peters’ knuckles. Peters retracted his hand abruptly.
The man cleared his throat. “They are not to eat from the serving trays,” he said. “Or enter any of the sitting rooms—or the kitchens, or the stables—”
“But you misunderstand!” Tamir interjected, waving his hands in a frenzy. “These are guests fromBelavere City!”
Peters blanched. “You mean, they aren’t…?”
“They are not under my employ,” Tamir laughed. “No, no, Meester Peters. You have put your foot in your arse, you see?”
“In his mouth, Tamir,” Nina corrected.
“Yes, right in his mouth. These areLordandLadyPontino, and they are my very best acquaintances come to visit me! Did I not tell you I have many good friends in Belavere City?”
Peters looked as though he’d heard of Tamir’s “many good friends,” and hadn’t believed a single tale. He turned to Nina and Theo repentantly. “Please, forgive me, my lord. Tamir… well, he often visits with an array of guests.”
“Yes,” Tamir nodded. “But these ones will not be found coupling in your stables. Now, we should be shown through, yes?”
