The long corridor outside her room was empty. Sounds filtered up from below, but no one else was in the hall. A well-worn runner spanned the length of the hall, stretching out to the left and right. After hearing the telltale click of the lock, Arista followed Cecily to the left, away from the music.
Most places like this had separate stairs for servants, so they could come and go unnoticed by the clientele. Cecily led her to a dark stairwell, and down it to another door. More steps wound further below them. When there were no more steps, Cecily swung open the last door. The hall they entered was empty; obviously the servants’ area. The walls were rough and bare, and no rugs covered this floor. It didn’t matter here.
“This way, miss.” Cecily led Arista through the kitchen, where several hunched-over women tended to a line of pots hanging above a huge fire. None looked up as they walked past. Incredible smells filled the air, and despite the fact that she had eaten earlier, her stomach growled loudly. She grabbed a warm roll from a tray—a small show of defiance, if only in her own head. Cecily opened yet another door, and cool air immediately swept past her. A small, well-tended garden was just outside, with a stone walkway winding out of sight.
“You can wait on the bench if you like.” Before Arista could answer, the door had closed behind her. She stood alone, with only the glow from a single window illuminating the fenced-in space. It appeared to be a small kitchen garden, filled with herbs and a few flowers. Someone had put a wooden bench in the corner by the tall fence, in the darkest part of the garden. Arista gravitated toward the shadows. The hem of her dress brushed against the fragrant foliage, and the air filled with a spicy mix of scents. She sat, her back to the fence, so that she could see Wild the moment he stepped outside.
In the silence, Arista cleared her head, and focused on what needed to be done. The warm bun practically melted in her mouth. After a lifetime of stale bread, there were no words to describe how delicious the food here tasted.
Mentally, she ticked off what her demands would be:
A place to live. A safe place, not like where they’d been before.
Food to eat.
A promise of safety for Becky, if anything should happen to Arista.
And Nic. He had to find Nic for her. Oh, he’d said he would send men to inquire, but Arista had no assurance that he actually would. By attaching the request to her list of demands, it might make Wild look for him just a little bit harder.
Arista had to know for sure that everything Wild had told her was true. If Nic had already planned an alliance with the man, he could tell her if Wild was in fact trustworthy. At least, trustworthy enough to get what she needed from him.
If Wild met her demands, then Arista would agree to give their deal a chance. She would become Lady A again to protect her friend. And in doing so, she would secure their future as well. With a fair cut of the profits, they would be able afford passage on a supply ship within a few months. Maybe even the one her mysterious highwayman captained.
The thought made her pulse jump, but she steeled herself against it. She had no time to dwell on him. Right now, she had to be sure that Becky remained safe.
“I barely recognized you dressed like that.”
Arista swung around, reaching for her knife instinctively. Wild was there, half covered by the shadows. Behind him, a gate swung shut. Damn him. He’d taken her by surprise while she was lost in thought. “I’m ready to make a deal.” She stood as he approached, his gait relaxed and confident. They were equal now. Partners.
Wild smiled and took a long inhale off his cheroot. “A wise business decision. One that will benefit you greatly, Ana.”
Arista nodded and chose her next words carefully. A man like Wild manipulated and used people. There could be nothing left up to interpretation or chance. “There are a few things I will need from you first.”
The corner of his lips turned down a fraction, giving away his displeasure. Enough of a pause for her to remember that Wild was not her friend. He might not get his own hands dirty like Bones did, but Wild and Bones were both used to getting what they wanted—no matter who suffered. Bones had used her. Wild sought to do the same—only now, she would benefit from this arrangement a lot more. She’d make damned sure of that.
“What do you need?” he asked. His shoulders were relaxed again, and he leaned casually against a statue of a cherub holding an urn upside down.
“We need a place to live.”
Wild lifted one eyebrow and glanced at the building behind her.
Arista snorted. “Someplace that is not a brothel. Nothing fancy, but it has to be safe. And we need food. Enough for Becky and I to live on, though like I said, we require nothing fancy.”
Wild puffed in a breath of smoke and exhaled slowly. “Anything else?”
She hesitated. Her next request wasn’t as simple as providing food. “I need to be sure that Becky is safe. Always. That no one has the opportunity to hurt her again. If something happens to me, I need assurance that she will be taken care of. If you can’t do this, I will not help you.”