“Save that, of course.” It was a good thing that she took joy in her family’s trade. So many did their work merely because their fathers and grandfathers had. They went through the motions as their attention wandered to something else entirely. But even though she apparently loved it, he still thought her life restricted. “Surely, there is a real man who has caught your attention. You are an attractive woman. I wager many men are looking at you. Do you not look back at any of them?”
Were he to ask such a thing of a woman in his own set, he would be handed a severe dressing down, and rightly so. It was an impolite question. But she was a tradeswoman and he a lord. Some questions were allowed, provided the lady herself was not insulted.
“They have looked, to be sure,” she said, her voice muted. “They look at the gemstones in the shop and at the fine wool I wear for all that it is a dull brown.”
“You have been hurt by some blighters, then. I am sorry for it.”
She snorted. “All women of means have been hurt by blighters. I begin to think there are no honest men left.”
“You cannot judge all men by those who frequent the Lyon’s Den.”
She nodded. “Of course not. But you live among the politicos and the royals. Are they fair-minded? Do they think of the country first and not their own pocketbook?”
“Yes, certainly, there are many who do.” At her arch look, he forced himself to be honest. “And many who do not.”
“There it is,” she said firmly. “A few honorable gentlemen shall be the hope for us all.”
“Well,” he said dryly, “perhaps it will be different in the Galapagos.”
She laughed, the sound sweet to his ears. “I am sure it is.”
They rode in silence then. The traffic was clogged, the stench even worse. But she seemed content to look at the fading sunset and dream of an island far away. What kind of life was it where a girl’s fantasies took her to something so far removed from reality? A prince in the Galapagos instead of a baker’s son right here.
“You must look around you, Amber,” he said, daring to use her given name. “You must try to live in the world we have, and not in one that can never be.”
She looked at him, surprised. “Why?”
“Because we cannot change what is here unless we set our thoughts here.”
“I am an immigrant who works nightly in a gambling den. I cannot change anything, and so I shall dream of there, wherever it might be.”
He could not argue that. Thanks to the circumstance of his birth, he had every advantage. Who was he to judge how she spent her days? And yet, he wished she had better. Better prospects, better circumstances, a better life.
But all he could do was give her a couple nights with his sister and a ball where she might indeed dance with a prince. Well, probably not a prince, but definitely an earl, for he meant to claim at least one set from her hand.
“Do you know how to waltz?” he asked abruptly.
She blinked in surprise. “No. The dance master considers it too scandalous.”
“Ask Diana to teach it to you, then save the first one for me.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes huge. He smiled at her then, knowing that at this moment, her thoughts were not on some island prince but of him and her dancing a scandalous dance. Her face brightened, and he saw the pulse in her neck leap in anticipation. If it were a different circumstance, he would steal a kiss. Sweetly at first, but with increasing passion, until he was the one reading her poetry at her bedside and singing arias to her as she slept.
Caught in such sweet imaginings, they traveled in silence to her home.
Chapter Seven
Amber’s father did not approve, but he was reassured when Lord Byrn told him the head bouncer, Titan, would provide a couple extra footmen as her escorts. Amber guessed they were really there to protect Diana from her stepson, Mr. Geoffrey Hough. That detail didn’t matter to Amber or her father. They all knew the men would look after Amber as well.
Which is how, exactly one day later, she was standing outside of Lady Morthan’s home, waiting to be announced into the ball. Excitement seemed to crackle in the air as she drew in every breath. She couldn’t keep her feet still. This was going to be the best night of her life, and she couldn’t wait for it to begin. She kept shifting from one leg to the other while Diana smiled indulgently at her.
Diana’s mother was with them as well, chattering about her old friends from school and how each of them was a viper who had betrayed her in one way or another. Last of their party was Lord Byrn, still in black but somehow managing to look magnificent.
“I keep telling you, Mama,” Diana said, “Amber is the sister of one of my friends. Elliott got it wrong.”
“I am so sorry, Mother,” Lord Byrn intoned.
“Well, I don’t see how she can just show up and—”
“It was the mail, my lady,” Amber interrupted. “My letter must have gotten lost. That sort of thing happens all the time on the Continent.”
It wasn’t true, as far as she was aware, but Lady Byrn seemed to enjoy talking about how everything over there was worse than it was here. And sure enough, she began to expound on all the things that someone had told her simply did not work on the Continent. Which left Amber free to look at everything and everyone.
At first, she feared that some of the ladies who frequented the Lyon’s Den would recognize her, but so far, none were in attendance. It was the gentlemen who posed the real threat. Nearly every man here had visited the place at one time or another, but she had been a nameless, faceless woman who helped her grandfather set a value on their goods. Surely they wouldn’t recognize her?
She bit her lip, flinching away from one of the biggest louts who frequented the Den. And as she turned, her gaze connected with Lord Byrn’s. Apparently, he’d been watching her as closely as she’d been looking around. Then as their gazes connected, his expression softened.
“Have I told you how exquisite you look tonight?” he asked.
She was wearing a pale yellow gown of an old style, quickly resewn to her body. The trim had been removed, a bit of ribbon added, and the sleeves changed. All of that in a day, such that every inch fit her like a dream. Even with the pale color, she felt like sunlight personified. When she’d first put it on, Diana had made her twirl around to show off every angle, and Amber had laughed like she hadn’t since she was a child.
“The clip in your hair. Is the lion of your own design?”
“Yes,” she said. She’d made it as well. It was meant to be a gift to Mrs. Dove-Lyon for next Christmas, but she hadn’t been able to resist wearing it now. The burnished gold matched her gown, and the bright, ruby eyes would dance in the candlelight.
“Of her own design?” Lady Byrn asked. “How could that be?”
“It is a hobby of hers, Mother,” Lord Byrn responded. “I have seen her sketchbook filled with jewelry designs. It is quite impressive.”
“Really?” the lady asked. “Could you fashion a peacock for my hair? With beautiful plumage to trail down my face.”
“It would be my absolute pleasure.” Not a lie. It would be a gloriously fun thing to do. “And while I am in London, I shall look for a good jeweler who could bring the design to life for you.” Especially since the thing would cost the moon and would amply repay her father for the two night’s he’d have to spend in the cage with her grandfather in her stead.