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‘Amy.’ Shaking my head, I grinned at her. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Me too. Me too.’
We hugged again and settled down on two chairs by the window. Keeping our voices low so as not to be overheard through the paper-thin walls, we exchanged all the latest gossip. Amy and I led lives that were about as different as they could be, and so neither of us ever grew tired of hearing about the other’s latest adventures. But we had one single, all-important thing in common: both of us were single women without inherited wealth, trying to make a living for ourselves in a world ruled by men. That had created a special bond between us. That, and the solid chocolate I brought with me on every visit.
Sadly, our discussion couldn’t last long. The madam was a suspicious old fox. If she’d gotten wind of Amy wasting time talking while she could be doing other, much more expensive things, she’d have a fit. So, after a few minutes of gossip, we got up on the bed.
‘It is time, my love,’ Amy declared dramatically, falling back, and throwing her arms wide. ‘Have your wicked way with me!’
I slugged her in the face with a pillow.
‘How dare you!’ She grinned. ‘I thought you loved me! I shall be avenged!’ And, grabbing the nearest pillow, she aimed a blow for my head. I ducked and hit back right away.
We managed three rounds of pillow fights before collapsing gasping on the bed. Amy had won two-to-one, but right now I didn’t care. I hadn’t had this much fun all week. Plus, we had done a pretty convincing performance for the madam. With all the creaking and screaming that had been going on, she’d probably charge me double. Ah, the price of friendship…
‘You wore me out!’ Amy groaned. ‘I’m gonna complain to that man of yours when ‘e’s comin’ back.’
‘By all means, tell him I’ve been visiting a brothel in his absence. I’ll write you a nice obituary.’
‘Ha! I can defend myself. If anythin’, it’s ‘is obituary you’ll have to write.’
My first instinct was to laugh—but the laugh caught in my throat. Would I be writing his obituary soon? A shiver went down my back at the thought. It was less impossible than I hoped. I had no idea where exactly he was right now or what he was doing. All I knew was it was damnably dangerous. He could be lying in some dark alleyway bleeding from a bullet wound, for all I knew.
‘Lilly? Lilly, did I say something wrong?’
Amy’s voice intruded on my silly panic. Because that’s what it was. Silly. Yes. Mr Ambrose was fine. Perfectly. Maybe if I told myself that often enough, I would even believe it.
‘I…it’s nothing, Amy. I just…’ I swallowed. ‘I…he…’
And the dam broke. The whole story just burst out of me—how Mr Ambrose had left me behind, and how I had no idea whether he still loved me or not, how annoyed I was at how much I bloody cared, and, and…
‘…and I don’t know what to do, Amy.’ I looked at her and knew that if I were to look in the mirror instead, I’d see something in my eyes that I was not used to seeing there: fear. ‘I just don’t know what to do. We’ve been in danger before, yes—but back then, we were together. I could watch his back. Now…now it all just feels wrong. What should I do?’
Amy looked at me with eyes far too wise for her tender age. ‘Ye already know what ye should do, don’t ye?’
*~*~**~*~*
When, ten minutes later, I descended from the upper floor, Karim was waiting for me in the foyer beside a smiling madam. His turban sat askew and his beard stood on end. There was a rouge stain on the tip of his nose.
‘I shall have my vengeance on you one day,’ he said with a face as grim as a grimoire. ‘When you least expect it, I shall strike!’
‘How lovely. I had a very nice time, too, thanks for asking. Shall we go?’
In reply, Karim muttered something incomprehensible (and probably life-threatening) and followed me out the door. After finding a place to change back into my lady attire once again, I returned, full of thoughts and plans. But I had no time to execute any of them.
‘Lill! Thank God you’re home!’ Ella rushed towards me before the front door had even closed and grasped my hands. ‘Aunt has gone completely mad! She’s dead set on finding husbands for us at the Duchess’s ball! “A last ditch effort” she called it! If we don’t find suitable men to marry, she’s threatened to give us to the next best man she can get her hands on!’
‘So what?’ I demanded. ‘No matter what she says, she’ll still need us to say yes at the altar.’
Ella shuddered. ‘Yes, but if your guardians demand it of you, who would be brave enough to say no?’
I refrained from giving the obvious answer—‘Me!’—because it wouldn’t be of much use to my dear little sister. She wasn’t like me. And I didn’t even want her to be. She might have the backbone of a sickly little daisy, but she was the sweetest, kindest girl on earth—especially to me. The times in my early days when she had bandaged me up after one of my shenanigans had gone awry were too many to count, and never had she told on me to my aunt or uncle. True, half of the time she had still accidentally given me away, because she blushed like a tomato and was the worst liar in the world, but it was the thought that counted. I wouldn’t judge her for being who she was. Well, not much.
‘And anyway,’ Ella continued, ‘if we don’t agree, she could turn us out of the house.’
She had me there. If Aunt and Uncle threw us out, we’d be homeless.
Or we would have been, said a little voice in the back of my mind, until recently.
