Anger surged to the surface. “I am not a thief,” she replied, a little too hastily.
He lifted an eyebrow, and heat splashed over her cheeks. She looked away, unable to deny the accusation in his eyes. How could he know that she had stolen all her life, but only to appease a cruel man? How it had been a matter of survival? She wasn’t like the others. But in his eyes, she was the same.
“I won’t take a thing that isn’t necessary for my stay here,” she said, finally meeting his stare. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded.
“I was told you would have odd hours and a need for privacy, so despite my daughter’s pleading, I have decided to give you the rooms at the rear of the house. There is a door that leads to a small, private garden, as well. My wife has seen to the rooms, and I assure you they are presentable.”
Arista blinked. He took her at her word, just like that? No questions, no demands? No threats? Again she nodded. “Thank you.” He seemed surprised to hear her say that.
“I’m not without manners, sir,” she said, slipping into her Lady A voice.
The man sat back and steepled his fingers under his chin. Heat crept into her cheeks when he said nothing—just watched her. Out of habit, she fingered the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh. Not because she feared for her own safety, but because she needed something familiar. Something to ground her.
“You’re not what I expected,” he finally said. “How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen, maybe? So young to have such a debt on your shoulders. To owe someone like the Thief Taker General, who walks on both sides of the law.”
If he only knew how long her list of transgressions was. She refused to answer, but something in her face must have given it away. It unnerved her to have her thoughts read as easily as she read other people’s.
“How did you come to know Wild? I assumed since he used blackmail to place you in my home, you were one of his cohorts. But you don’t seem the type.…”
“Neither do you,” she shot back.
A flash of admiration crossed his face before he carefully schooled his emotions. “I think we can agree that often, decisions are made in less than favorable conditions, with future consequences unimaginable.”
Arista swallowed loudly. Perhaps they had more in common than she had first thought. “We won’t overstay our welcome, sir.” She almost blurted out that she would be gone as soon as she had enough money to leave London, but she stopped herself. He didn’t need to know how truly destitute she was. “When my business is concluded, we will leave promptly.”
He studied her for a few more seconds, then stood and walked to the door. Wilson appeared as soon as it opened.
“Please show our guest to her rooms,” the man said.
“Very good, sir.” Wilson inclined his head toward her. “This way, miss. Your maid is waiting.”
As she moved toward the door, Mr. Sinclair stepped aside to let her pass. She glanced up and what she saw in his eyes almost stopped her cold. Understanding. Compassion. No one had ever shown either to her. She stumbled and he reached out to steady her.
He released her almost immediately and took a step back. “Thank you,” she said again.
This dynamic confused her. This man should hate her. He would be right to demand that she leave his home and never return, despite Wild’s threat. This family was real. It didn’t need someone like her, a liar and a fake, defiling their honest lives.
Yet they had welcomed her without question. Even Mr. Sinclair, who knew she was connected with Wild, was still kind. She followed Wilson, and glanced over her shoulder to see that the door to the office was now closed.
Wilson led her to the right, down a short hallway that led to another hall, and finally to a door illuminated by soft candlelight. The aroma of fresh bread permeated the entire space, and Arista inhaled hungrily. Though she had eaten well at Wild’s, the edge of hunger never truly left her. Years of starving made sure of that.
“Here you are, miss. The kitchen is there, and Sara, Miss Sophia’s maid, has a room off the kitchen if you need anything.” When Arista made no move to enter, Wilson opened the door for her.
“Dinner is at six, miss. If there is anything you need, please ring for one of the staff.” With a formal bow, Wilson stepped back, turned around, and disappeared down the hall.
Suddenly, in spite of her good, homey surroundings, the house seemed stifling.
Wild wanted her to live among a family? He knew where she came from, yet he’d thrust her in with people who thought her a lady. Why? He could have put them in any room in any seedy boarding house and it would have been better than where they had been.
Was this part of his game? To show her what she had missed all her life? If so, it was a cruel move.