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“My mind never even went there,” he said, winking at her.
“And no more winking,” she said, pointing at him. “I need someone to appear as my valet if I am going to maintain this illusion. I’ll give you food, fresh clothes too, and you can take the role without actually having to help me dress in the morning.”
“Hmm, that could work,” he said, patting his stomach. “I could certainly do with the food.”
“In return, you keep my secret. Is that understood?” she asked, offering her hand to him to shake.
“Understood,” he said, clasping her hand and shaking firmly. “Hmm…that will have to change for starters.”
“What will?”
“Men shake hands harder than that,” he said. “Try again.” She shook his hand another time, watching as he grimaced in pain and retracted his hand. “Fast learner.”
“Good, come on then. Let’s hope you learn as quickly to fake being my valet. What is my new valet’s name, by the way?”
“Sherborne. Sherborne Ekster.”
***
“If this is going to work, you’re going to have to stop fidgeting,” Violette said, looking up from her plate to Sherborne, who was sat beside her, constantly fidgeting. After she had brought him back to the club, she had given him fresh clothes and asked a little more about his life story.
Sherborne was one of four children, the other three being sisters who were currently working as seamstresses with their mother in a small back-to-back house somewhere near Covent Garden. After years of fleecing the rich and pickpocketing, Sherborne had been pressured by his mother into finding some sort of honourable position of work, though he struggled.
He considered himself an honest thief as he was never violent, hence his anger at the man who had attacked Violette earlier that day, but he was also a little rougher around the edges. As he sat there in the smart clothes Violette had given him, his collars were skew-whiff, and his hair stood up at awkward angles.
“It’s itchy,” he complained as he dug into his food.
“You will get used to it,” Violette said with a smile. “Believe me, it’s a lot more comfortable than a corset and a gown.” Sherborne laughed and looked up from the food she had bought him. In his jacket and waistcoat, it was apparent just how slim and hungry the lad was, and Violette had been keen to feed him up.
“In truth…” he paused, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time since she had met him. “I was not expecting you to invite me to have dinner with you. Here in the club.” He gestured around the room at the fine dining and the way they were all being waited on. “This wasn’t necessary.”
“I wanted to buy you food,” she said firmly. “For one thing, I owe you a lot after this morning. For another…” she paused and gestured down to his stomach. “You need the food, so eat up.” He smiled and dug back in, eagerly slurping the gravy though she sent him warning looks every now and then, urging him to try and eat with a little more propriety.
“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t Mr Blake?” A familiar voice made Violette turn in her seat to see Mr Grey, the handlebar moustached man who had taken her money the night before at the whist table.
“Mr Grey,” she said, nodding her head and adopting her deeper voice. “How are you today?”
“Impatient to be back at the gambling table,” he said with a laugh as he walked past her, clasping his hands together. “Do come back again this evening, Mr Blake. I am not sure I have taken enough of your money yet.” He laughed and walked on again, leaving Violette to follow him with a harsh glare.
“You lost money to him?” Sherborne asked in a harried whisper.
“Yes, more than I would have liked,” Violette said, stabbing a potato harshly on her plate in her anger.
“He looks rather like a Captain Sharp to me.”
“A what?” Violette asked, pausing with her potato lifted in the air.
“A swindler.” Sherborne explained with a shrug. “They’re often hired by the gambling halls to take money off their more unsuspecting customers. He cheats. Has cards up his sleeves and because they work with the gambling halls. If you have a dealer too provided, then they work with the Captain Sharp, passing them needed cards.”
Violette felt the piece of potato slip off her fork and drop to her plate as she turned her gaze, trying to find Mr Grey again, but he was long gone.
“He cheated me out of my money!”
“So he did,” Sherborne said with a nod. “Believe me, Mis— I mean….”
She sent him a harsh glare in reprimand.
“Mr Blake,” he said hurriedly. “Stay away from Mr Grey there and any man who has suspiciously wide coat sleeves. You’ll find many cards hiding up there.”
