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I chuckled, managing to keep it steady and low, rather than bubbly and high. I knew the truth of this situation: I was only allowed in this close-knit circle because of my disguise. The boys thought I was one of them, albeit of a higher social class. Another mark on my list of how it felt being the Heiress of Wilford.
A girl, regardless of my social standing, would never have fit in with these boys. But Sir Rob . . . well, Sir Rob was free to do as he pleased.
I played dice with the boys for nearly half an hour, until, at the end, I noticed their shoulders slumping.
My luck had been extraordinary. As I smiled and got ready to pitch the bones against the wall, I hesitated, hand raised.
They eyed each other with small frowns. Bit their lips. Looked nervously at the die in my hand.
That’s when I recognized I had inadvertently taken almost all their money. It was a swollen pile of pennies in front of me, with hardly a coin in front of the others.
Not wanting to beat them down more than they already felt, I scratched my head, placed the dice on the ground, and looked over my shoulder. “You know, guys, uh . . . I think I’d better go look for Lady Emma. Been a while, hasn’t it?”
They nodded glumly.
“Sure has . . .” Rosco mumbled. “Been torturous, Rob.” He scratched his cheek, looking dumbfounded that he’d lost his money to me.
I stood, my knees creaking. Then I started to walk away, waving. “Guess I’ll be seeing you guys around—”
“What about your winnings, ya dolt?” Tick grumbled. He wasn’t so encouraging or nice now. His chin dipped to the coins on the street.
I shrugged. “Split it amongst yourselves, boys. My treat.” I smiled broadly.
To my surprise, their faces didn’t break out into grins. They looked at each other skeptically.
Rosco stood to his full height. He towered over me. Now there was a hint of menace in his tone, on his boyish face. The cordialness had evaporated, replaced by a scowl that made my pulse spike.
“You trying to take pity on us, Sir Rob? That it?”
I shook my head, raising my hands.
Rosco frowned. “Think you’re so much better than us? You can teem with the filth for a few, then be on your way back to your ivory towers?”
“I-I don’t live in an ivory tower,” I stammered, baffled at this sudden shift in tension. It was the second time he’d said it. Was that what I’d been doing? Playing a game with these boys, not caring about the outcome?
“Yeah, well, wherever you live got to be a shit-lot better than these streets, ain’t it?”
I chewed my lip. Backpedaled away from Rosco, out of the alley where it was brighter on the main street.
Rosco grabbed my collar, and I sucked in a gasp. He nearly pulled me off my feet as he brought me close. “We don’t want or need your pity, mate. Understand?”
“Hoy!”
The voice came from behind me, across the street. It was a man’s voice. When I looked over my shoulder, Rosco was already unhanding me, raising his hands and dusting them off.
“Hands off him, guttersnipe,” the man said. He had shoulder-length blond hair and dressed like a nobleman.
He crossed the street in a hurry, apparently coming to my rescue. The young man was tall, stiff, and handsome. More filled-out than the bony ragamuffins.
Rosco and his boys receded into the alley, grinning at me and the new haughty man who had appeared.
My heart sank as Rosco started to disappear into the shadows. It sank because I felt more akin to him than I did this random savior I didn’t ask for.
I was grateful for his aid, surely, but I desperately wanted to talk to the boys and apologize for offending them. I didn’t know what it meant to live like them, but I realized they deserved dignity just as well as anyone.
“See ya ‘round, Rob,” Rosco rumbled, before his dirtied face vanished into the black of the alley—not before swooping all the coins off the ground.
The long-haired man turned to me, hand on my arm. His face wrinkled with concern. “You all right, lad?”
