“You get to go too?” Somehow, that made this entire thing even more agonizing. “You’ve been there before?”
“Not in years, but—”
He drew up short as we rounded a corner and heard more sniffling. Old Doris the cook was trudging toward the kitchen, trying not to cry as she walked.
“Don’t take this the wrong way . . .” Cedric began. “But there are a lot of tears in your household.”
I shot him a wry look. “Much is changing. Doris won’t be going with us either. She’s blind in one eye, and my cousin doesn’t want her.”
He turned to study me, and I averted my gaze, not wanting him to see how much this decision pained me. In her condition, Doris wasn’t going to have an easy time finding work. It was another argument Grandmama had won. I was losing my edge.
“Is she good?” Cedric asked.
“Very.”
“Excuse me,” he called out to her.
Doris turned in surprise. “M’lord?” Neither of us bothered to correct her error.
“Is it true that your services are for hire? I can understand if someone else has already hired you on.”
She blinked, her one good eye focusing on him. “No, m’lord.”
“There’s an opening over in one of the university’s kitchens. Four silvers a month and room and board. If you’re interested, it’s yours. Although if the thought of cooking for so many is daunting—”
“M’lord,” she interrupted, pulling herself up to her full but short height. “I have overseen seven-course dinners hosting a hundred nobles. I can handle swaggering boys.”
Cedric’s expression remained dignified. “Glad to hear it. Go to the university’s north office tomorrow and tell them your name. They’ll give you more information.”
Old Doris’s mouth dropped, and she looked to me for confirmation. I nodded encouragingly.
“Yes, yes, m’lord! I’ll go right after breakfast’s served. Thank you—thank you so much.”
“Well, that’s lucky,” I told him, once we were alone again. I certainly wouldn’t say so, but I thought it was incredibly kind of him to offer such a thing, let alone notice her. Most didn’t. “Lucky that there was an open position.”
“There isn’t, actually,” he said. “But I’ll stop by and talk to the office today. By the time I’m done, they’ll have an opening.”
“Mister Thorn, something tells me you could sell salvation to a priest.”
He smiled at the old adage. “What makes you think I haven’t?”
We reached the garden and were nearing the exit when he halted again. An expression of disbelief crossed his face, and I turned toward what had caught his eye. My poppies painting.
“That’s . . . Peter Cosingford’s Poppies. I saw it in the National Gallery. Except . . . ?” He trailed off, face full of confusion as he took in the canvas and the pigments beside it.
“It’s a copy. My attempt at a copy. I have others. It’s just something I do for fun.”
“You make copies of great works for fun?” Belatedly, he added, “My lady?”
“No, Mister Thorn. That’s what you do.”
The smile on his face was genuine, and I found I liked it better than the show ones. “Well, I’m pretty sure I could never copy you.”
We’d reached the front gate, and his words made me come to a halt. It was less about their meaning than the way he’d said them. The tone. The warmth. I tried to think of a witty retort, but my normally quick mind had frozen up.
“And if you won’t take offense at me speaking openly . . .” he added quickly.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
“It’s just . . . well, I’m a little disappointed I probably won’t ever get a chance to see you again.” Perhaps realizing that was too open, he gave a hasty bow. “Farewell, and best of luck to you, my lady.”
One of the guards outside the gate unlocked it for him, and I watched him walk out the gate, admiring the way the velvet coat hugged his body.
“But you will be seeing me again,” I murmured. “Just wait.”
Chapter 3
The plan had been forming in the back of my mind ever since Ada had tearfully signed her contract. I had a chance to outsmart the bad things looming over me. And, as my father had advised, I needed to act quickly. As more and more details became clearer, my excitement grew, and it was all I could do not to shout it to the heavens.
Mastering myself, I walked quickly—but sedately—out of the garden, back to the drawing room, where Ada sat morosely. I dodged two servants lugging my grandmother’s chaise lounge and was glad Cedric hadn’t seen that. It looked like we were being looted.
“Well, you must be excited,” I said cheerfully to Ada. “Such an exciting opportunity ahead of you.”
She rested her chin in her hands. “As you say, my lady.”
I sat down beside her, feigning astonishment. “It’s a great thing for you.”
“I know, I know.” She sighed. “It’s just . . . it’s just . . .” Her attempts at self-control failed utterly, and tears ran down her cheeks. I offered her a silk handkerchief. “I don’t want to go to a strange land! I don’t want to sail across the Sunset Sea! I don’t want to get married!”
“Then don’t go,” I said. “Do something else when Grandmama and I leave. Get another job.”
She shook her head. “I signed the contract. And what can I do? I’m not like you, my lady. I can’t just walk away. I don’t have the means, and no other noble families are hiring—at least not at this level. I’ve looked.”