Gavriella smiled broadly. “And I am pleased you thought the same,” she said. “Truthfully, you look quite different than you did last night. I hardly recognized you without all of the bulky things you were wearing.”
He laughed softly, the dimples in his cheeks carving deep. “That is my usual attire,” he said, holding out his arms to show off his fine clothing. “I confess that this does not belong to me, but to my uncle, who is a diplomat for the king. He forced me to wear it. Something about women liking men in fine clothing and not men who looked like they just crawled off a battlefield. I think he is mad, but I took his advice nonetheless.”
Gavriella laughed softly because he’d spoken in a jesting manner. “Did he really say that to you?”
Andreas’ smile was broad. “He did not,” he said. “I just thought to say it to mayhap gain your sympathy. A fighting man does not dress like this, as a rule.”
Her gray eyes glimmered at him. “You’ll find no sympathy here,” she said. “You look very fine. I like it very much.”
“Thank you,” he said sincerely, his gaze moving up and down her thoroughly exquisite dress. “As do you. I… I find myself speechless, my lady. When I met you last night, I had no idea that… well, all I can say is that surely the angels are jealous of your glory.”
Gavriella’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “You are very kind,” she said. “But I stole this from my cousin because I did not have anything pretty to wear, so mayhap we can move along now? I would hate for her to come running after me and demand I return everything.”
He offered her an elbow. “I would hate that, as well,” he said. “Hurry, let’s run for it.”
Gavriella giggled and took his elbow, clutching him tightly as they began to walk swiftly down the road. Andreas took a turn at the first smaller street they came to, disappearing from the view of The Asher.
But it wasn’t fast enough.
Neither one of them saw the face in the window on the first floor, looking out over the street. Had they noticed, they would have seen Aurelia watching them run off together. The very sister who had insisted on attending Gomorrah, who adored men, and was threatened by her beautiful cousin now had a reason to hate her.
A reason to be vindictive.
Aurelia had always been the queen of The Asher. She had male suitors and considered herself the most sought-after woman in London. She certainly wasn’t willing to relinquish that title to any country mouse. She’d heard her cousin stirring in the next chamber and it had been enough to get her out of bed. She’d even heard Gavriella slip out of the chamber and down the stairs. She’d moved to the window just in time to see her cousin run across the street to meet a man who was perhaps the most handsome man Aurelia had ever seen.
Jealousy consumed her.
She wasn’t going to let Gavriella get away with it.
She went to find her mother.
“There,” Andreas said, slowing his pace once they were out of sight from The Asher. “We are safe now. No one can see us from your cousin’s house.”
Gavriella grinned, still holding on to his elbow. “Thankfully,” she said. “I will admit that Camilla is not the issue. I am sure she would not mind that I borrowed her things. It is her older sister that I am worried about.”
“Was this the cousin who dragged you to Gomorrah last night?”
“The same.”
The fact that she was still holding on to his elbow wasn’t lost on Andreas. In fact, he felt like a puffed-up peacock with her on his arm. He’d never felt like that in his life, so this was something of a new experience for him. He was struggling not to feel giddy about it.
“And you are here visiting?”
Gavriella nodded. “I am,” she said. “Truthfully, I do not even know my cousins very well. I live so far away that I have rarely seen them in my lifetime, so they are essentially strangers. There are Aurelia and Camilla, and it is Aurelia who seems to be quite… bold.”
“Like going to Gomorrah.”
“Exactly.”
They walked a few more feet as Andreas contemplated what to say next to her. He really only knew her name but nothing more and, understandably, he was quite curious.
“As I said last night,” he said. “London is much different from a small village in the north. I suspect where you come from is far more sedate than this.”
Gavriella was looking around, noticing the people, feeling more curious about her surroundings than she had since she had arrived in London.
“Sedate enough,” she said. “I must admit that I have been very curious about London. Where I come from, people speak of London as if it is located on the moon. Far away and mysterious.”
“Have you not been here before, then?”
“When I was a child, but I do not remember much,” she said. “My father and my cousins’ mother are brother and sister, so my father and I came for some kind of family event. I do not even recall what it was.”
He glanced over at her, studying the delicate contours of her face. “Here is the part where I would naturally ask you where you came from and what your family name is,” he said. “May I do so?”
She looked at him, perhaps a little coyly. “I think the only moderately enjoyable thing about Gomorrah was the fact that everyone was anonymous,” she said. “It’s rather fun not knowing who you’re talking to. That means I can imagine a background for you. For all I know, you could be a prince.”
He grinned. “Or a pauper.”
“Exactly,” she said. “And I could be a princess of France or I could be the daughter of the most wicked man in England. But you will never know if you only know me by my first name.”
He laughed softly. “So you wish to continue that way for now?”
She grinned because he was. “It is rather fun, isn’t it?” she said. “Mayhap we should only ask question of each other with an ‘aye’ or ‘nay’ answer.”
He was up for the game. “Very well,” he said. “You ask first.”
She thought on that briefly. “Are you a prince?”
He burst out laughing. “Nay,” he insisted. “Why? Do I look like one?”
She shrugged, caught up in the man’s charm. “Possibly,” she said. “That is my point; one can never tell.”
“That is true,” he said. “Now it is my turn.”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you the daughter of the most wicked man in England?”
She snorted. “I am not, I swear.”
“That is good to know.”
They were nearing the river at this point, the smell of fish and brine heavy in the breeze. Up ahead was Thames Street, which paralleled the river, and they turned right when they came to the street. It was a busier avenue, full of people going about their business at midday. But Andreas wasn’t paying any attention to the hustle and bustle; his attention was on the woman at his side.
“Well?” he said. “Any more questions of me?”
Gavriella realized she’d been off daydreaming about the handsome man next to her, now slightly embarrassed that she’d let the conversation fall off.