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“That is not my name!” She hadn’t meant to snap, but the idea of sharing her grandfather’s name was repugnant.
“Ah? I understood that the owner of this estate was called Winstead. Named the place for himself, in fact.”
“He is my grandfather.” Who would summarily eject this intruder from his garden. Indeed, Harriet thought, her grandfather would deplore every single thing about Jack the Rogue. He would forbid her to speak to him, a connection far worse than any acquaintance with one of his employees. She could practically hear his sputters of indignation. How splendid. “I am Harriet Finch,” she said.
The visitor made a surprisingly elegant bow. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Finch.”
He had finer manners than one would have expected of a rogue. But then it occurred to her that a plausible facade was probably quite useful for…roguishness. “And now it would be polite for you to give me your full name,” she said, echoing his earlier words to her.
“Ah.”
“Or shall I call you Jack the Rogue, Jack in the Green?” She was glad to have gotten that in.
He smiled. “Jack Mer…” He seemed to bite off the last word.
Harriet waited, but he said no more. “Mere? Like Grasmere or Windermere?”
He looked uncomfortable, shrugged.
He didn’t like questions. Unless he was asking them. Rogues would have secrets, Harriet acknowledged. They would be positively crammed with secrets. In fact, Jack Mere was a sort of human puzzle waiting to be deciphered. And she loved unraveling mysteries. “What do you do?” she asked.
“Do?”
“Have you a…a profession or a livelihood?” Some rogues played tricks to bilk people of their money. She hoped it wasn’t that. “Gypsies breed horses, don’t they?”
“What have gypsies to do with anything?” he asked.
“Well, you are living in the camp.”
“Travelers and gypsies are two different things,” he said. “Travelers are from Ireland and gypsies… Well, I don’t know. Somewhere else.”
“Egypt? I think I heard that.” Harriet thought this probably came from her friend Sarah, who was always reading about arcane topics and delighted to share her gleanings.
He shrugged. “Could be. Travelers come from the Gaels. Or so my mother said.”
“She was a Traveler?”
Again, he didn’t seem to like being questioned. Finally, he said, “Yes.”
“So then, you Travelers…”
“I am not really a Traveler. I’ve just been walking along with them for a space.”
“Why? Are you hiding from the law?”
“No, I am not. Why would you think so?”
“Rogues often have to evade the magistrates, I believe. So I have heard, at any rate.” She was teasing him a little. But she also wanted to know all about him.
“You’re very fond of that wordrogue. I think you’ve read too many lurid tales.”
In fact, she hadn’t read nearly enough. “You don’t…deceive the gullible?”
He looked scandalized. “Never. I’ve done a deal of different things, but I always earn my keep fair and square.”
“What sorts of things?”
He gazed at her as if evaluating something. “I went along on a frontier expedition two years ago,” he said. “I managed the animals and supplies and helped the mapmakers.”
