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“If her spirits are low, her disappointment in you is a large part of that.”
“Tomorrow I’ll be gone. You need no longer worry about my influence on her spirits.”
“You could apologize before you go.”
“To whom? For what?” Viv could not hold back the sharpness of her tone.
“For your lack of caution and sense in bringing Mr. Larkin here and entering into a betrothal with him. I knew he was hiding something, but really, Viv, to take up with a common pickpocket?”
“I seem to have disappointed your expectations.”
“Not mine alone. The expectations of any gentleman of proper feminine behavior. How can a decent man have any regard for you?”
Viv’s temper was stirring, flickering to life, and she tried to tamp it down. Newberry said only what the world thought of Lark and of her. “I suppose you’re right, and only a pickpocket could care for a woman of my sort.”
“I don’t understand. Why did you choose him when you—”
He did not say that Viv might have had him. He was very handsome. At one time he had seemed to see her as an equal, and she had thought him the sort of man for whom she might come to feel an attachment, kind, principled, and caring. Maybe Viv was mad, but she thought her common pickpocket had a more generous idea of feminine behavior, and more genuine regard for women as rational creatures and independent beings. “Did you come to quarrel with me?” she asked.
“No. At least I didn’t intend to quarrel.” He ran a hand through his curls. “I thought we were…partners in our care of her ladyship. She has been good to me, good for my practice. She helped me to establish myself among people who matter. And I know she’s been good to you, teaching you how to tell stories and put a guide together.”
“I have much to thank her for, and I hoped you and I might part as friends.”
“Hoped?”
Viv raised her brows. “It’s more difficult to part as friends if you blame me for the effects of her illness and disappointment.”
He started to reply, stopped, and gave a rueful laugh. “I don’t understand you, Viv, and I don’t understand how I ended up on the Strydes’ side of the aisle, as it were.”
“I know.” She did. While she had been seeing London through different eyes, the eyes of her betrothed, Newberry had been seeing it more and more from the Strydes’ view. She knew London was bigger than he thought and that it was more dependent on people who were not the right sort of people, people on other streets who had other stories to tell. “I’ve made up some jars of cordial, and trained Jenny to make more. If you rely on Jenny and the staff and don’t let the Strydes take over, Lady Melforth will do quite well.”
She offered her hand. He took it and looked as if he might say more. Viv gave him no encouragement. He bowed and took his leave.
She was free of everything that kept her in London. She had done the work entrusted to her. She had learned lessons in humility as well as boldness, perhaps not all the lessons she needed to learn. She reflected that her family’s household in Weymouth would teach her more. She had had her hopes dashed and her heart broken. Now she had only to pick herself up and go on. She hung the key to the stillroom cabinet on its hook and closed the door.
