“I would be delighted if you joined me, sir.” She smiled up at him, knowing her smile was her best feature, and her flowing golden tresses were a close second. Perhaps this man had come to Talcott House in search of a wife. She decided to charm him as much as possible, because while she was betrothed to another, if he found her pleasing maybe he would decide on another girl, perhaps one of her friends. In any case, on behalf of Talcott House, she ought to try her best to make a good impression.
He took a seat and turned toward her, his dark brown eyes sparkling with intelligence. He seemed interested in her, and she had to force herself to sit politely with her hands folded in her lap, rather than squirm or fidget with her hat.
“What brings you to Talcott House, sir?” She flushed, worried her question was too bold. “That is, if you do not believe I am being too forward by asking.”
He cast a glance around the gardens, before returning his gaze to her. “I had a business matter to discuss with Miss Wickersham.” He pressed his lips together, and she knew he wouldn’t divulge the details of the business matter. He also hadn’t formally introduced himself, and that bothered her. Perhaps he wasn’t as gentlemanly as she’d first believed.
“How many years have you lived here, Miss—?”
“Miss Heathrow,” she supplied. “I’ve lived here for quite a few years. However, I won’t be here for much longer. I am to marry Lord Kensington next Saturday.” She couldn’t help but beam with pride, though she hoped her proclamation indeed came true. She resolved to check with Miss Wickersham soon and confirm that plans had not been changed or postponed, or God forbid, entirely cancelled.
His eyebrows scrunched together, and he appeared to be studying her. She wasn’t sure she liked the way he was looking at her, as if she were a charity case. As if she were a former thief and miscreant who used to roam the streets of London. She lifted her chin, as if in challenge, and didn’t break eye contact even as he continued to stare at her for an unseemly long time.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier,” he said, surprising her by taking her gloved hand and bringing it to his lips. “I am Lord Grayson, and I am pleased to meet you, Miss Heathrow.” And then he kissed the back of her gloved hand before releasing it and straightening on the bench. The pressure of his lips lingered long after he let go of her hand.
“This business with Miss Wickersham you speak of,” Cynny said, not one to let an issue rest. Although she was promised to another, she felt a strong compulsion to know if he were here in search of a wife. “Are you in need of a bride, sir? Is that why you have come to Talcott House?”
The smile faded from his eyes and he chuckled briefly. “Your question is a bold one. While I think the young ladies of Talcott House are lovely and refined indeed, yourself included, Miss Heathrow, my bride awaits me in London, where I am headed after completing my business with Miss Wickersham.”
Her heart plummeted to the ground, but she was careful not to let her emotions show. She smiled brighter and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear, once more resisting the urge to readjust her hat. She didn’t want this spoiled lord to know she’d just been imagining him as her papa and as her husband, even if the thought had only flitted through her mind for the briefest of moments. The very briefest of moments, as she ought not think of anyone in an intimate manner except Lord Kensington, despite the fact that she had yet to meet her betrothed. She tried to push away the guilt that had settled on her shoulders over her secret improprieties.
“Where did you live before you came to Talcott House?” His question surprised her, and she fumbled for an answer that wouldn’t leave him scandalized.
But what did it matter? He wasn’t here for a bride, and even if he was, there were many girls at Talcott House who were more well-behaved and refined than she was, many girls Miss Wickersham would likely recommend over her. Stop it! You are to marry Lord Kensington and that’s that. Don’t be so ridiculous.
She met his eye and sucked in a deep breath. “I lived in London, in an outbuilding behind a tavern. You see, Lord Grayson, I was a member of a vicious gang of thieves called The Weasels. Perhaps you’ve heard of us? Everyone feared us, and a tavern owner allowed us to live in his outbuilding for free, in exchange for our promise not to steal from the clients who frequented his establishment,” she said with dramatic flair. “I spent my days prowling around London, picking pockets and breaking all sorts of laws, and that is how Miss Wickersham found me. I tried to steal from her, and she caught me. She saved me from the magistrate by offering to take me into her care at Talcott House. And that, Lord Grayson, is how I came to live here.”
He stared at her, white-faced, for several seconds, before his shoulders relaxed and he gave a brief chuckle. “You have a wild imagination, Miss Heathrow.”
He didn’t believe her.
She blinked at him, a sense of numbness taking over.
He actually thought she’d made the whole story up!
It was all true, though. Every last word. In fact, she hadn’t even told him the half of it.
Truth be told, she’d omitted the darkest details of her life story. Like how she’d watched her parents die of a fever at the tender age of five, and how she’d been dumped on the streets of London by her drunkard uncle not long after. If The Weasels hadn’t found her and taken her in, no doubt she would have starved to death, alone on the streets while she cried for the parents who were never coming back.
Winter. Her uncle had abandoned her in the midst of a brutal winter, on a particularly blustery day when the streets were covered in fresh fallen snow. A member of The Weasels, Mary, had discovered her walking aimlessly in a dangerous part of town, and the rest was history. She’d learned fast in the gang. The will to live, despite her bleak circumstances, had burned bright within her and drove her to become the most exceptional thief The Weasels had ever seen. She’d liked making Mary proud, and in return the older girl had sheltered Cynny from as much danger as she could, at least until she disappeared one fateful day and never returned—a mere fortnight before Cynny stuck her hand into Miss Wickersham’s pocket and her life changed forever.
Cynny regarded Lord Grayson, wondering if he’d ever known fervent desperation or cold fear. Likely not. His life was probably a fairytale compared to hers, an endless parade of lavish dinners and fancy balls. Of course, she had much to be grateful for and resolved to stop feeling sorry for herself in moments of weakness. The worst of her hardships were behind her. She believed it in her heart.
A thought struck her. What if Lord Kensington, like Lord Grayson, also thought her stories of belonging to a notorious street gang and stealing to survive were naught but fiction? A tale she’d concocted for her own amusement? She sighed inwardly, as worry encased her heart, squeezing until she feared for an instant she might burst into tears in front of her handsome companion. Thankfully, she quickly regained her composure before Lord Grayson noticed anything was amiss. But in the wake of Miss Wickersham not believing her tears and her remorse over her most recent misbehavior, such a prospect left her uneasy.
Miss Wickersham appeared in front of them, having returned from whatever crisis had required her attention.
Lord Grayson stood and uttered some polite words of departure to Cynny, but in her frustration toward him—not to mention her frustration with herself for being drawn to him—she could only nod her goodbye. As soon as he walked away in the company of Miss Wickersham, she curled her fingers around the gold watch hidden in her lap and stealthily placed it into the pocket of her dress.
She hadn’t stolen anything in a long time, not counting her recent theft of the sugar, and she was surprised by the immense guilt she felt in the aftermath of her thievery. Taking a priceless golden pocket watch from a lord was much worse than swiping a few cups of sugar. Oh dear. What had she done? For a second, she considered approaching Lord Grayson and telling him he’d dropped his pocket watch.
She stood up and started following him, but then she hesitated.
No, she couldn’t.
What would she give her new papa as a wedding gift if she returned the pocket watch?