came from a place like that. When I was younger than you, I lived in just such a street. I fought dogs for scraps. I stole from the dead. Plenty of people died on that street.’” She let out her breath. “She shook me a little, then she said, ‘I want you to remember that. Will you remember?’”
Lord Alan made a quick gesture, but said nothing.
“I couldn’t forget,” Ariel finished with a shiver. “How could I? It was the only thing she ever told me about her past.” She looked down at her hands clenched on her lap. “She didn’t leave anything either. How will I ever find out her secrets?”
The last came out on a desperate, rising note, and Ariel at once bit it back. Why had she told him this? Hadn’t she learned years ago that anything she confided would be giggled over in corners and used to humiliate? She had resolved never to tell anyone about herself again. And yet after two days’ acquaintance she had taken that terrible risk with this duke’s son. Her mind was becoming unhinged with grief, Ariel concluded. She had to get hold of herself—now. She had to change the subject. But looking up and meeting Lord Alan’s acute blue eyes, she could think of nothing to say.
The girl looked positively frightened, Alan was thinking. He could see no reason for it, but the shadows in her eyes and the tension of her body were unmistakable. She was trying to hide the trembling of her hands. Clearly, the death of her mother had deeply affected her. But why fear? No doubt she was afraid of being alone, he decided. She was young and female, and thus constitutionally unable to appreciate the pleasures of solitary work and thought. It must be rather odd to have no family at all. “I have always been surrounded by dozens of relatives,” he said almost meditatively.
Ariel stared as if he had said something completely unexpected.
“A burdensome number,” he added.
“Burdensome?” She looked even more astonished.
That was better than frightened, he thought. “Yes. It often takes a good deal of ingenuity to keep clear of them.”
She shook her head, as if a bit dazed. “Clear? You want to avoid seeing your family?”
“Some disreputable third cousin or eccentric great-aunt is always popping up and creating a nuisance,” he told her, relieved to see that she seemed to have recovered her composure.
“Nuisance?” she echoed.
“They want to borrow money or be squired about London or stay at the house for months at a time to save themselves a few guineas when they haven’t the least need to do so.”
She smiled slightly, and Alan felt a surge of gratification all out of proportion with the occasion. “My great-uncle Oliver amassed one of the largest fortunes in England by the simple expedient of never going home,” he added. “Indeed, he didn’t have a home. He saved the expense by visiting his relatives, in turn, through the year. You could judge the season by it. If Uncle Oliver was visiting, it must be April.”
She laughed, and Alan felt his heart lift in the most incomprehensible way. “They can’t all be like that,” she protested.
“Not all,” he conceded.
“You told me you have brothers?”
“Brothers,” he echoed feelingly. “You can’t imagine what it’s like having five older brothers.”
“No,” replied Ariel softly. “I don’t suppose I can.”
“Everything has been done before you get to it. Everyone you meet has opinions about you—and not always favorable ones. You are born part of a mob, and you have to fight to become yourself.”
“You do?”
Alan looked up and found that she was gazing at him very steadily. Why had he said that, he wondered? It had nothing to do with the matter at hand. He had come here for information, and so far he had gotten none at all. “I’m happy to visit the family at holidays and do my duty on great occasions,” he said, closing the subject. “But I need the rest of my time for my work.”
Three
The following morning, Verity finally had the chance to make her expedition. Her mother was occupied with some important letters and wouldn’t notice a short absence. Indeed, she was so engrossed that she didn’t even acknowledge Verity’s departure from their rented drawing room. The landlady, always interested in their doings, was out. Verity knew how the hackney coaches worked, and she had money. She was aware that young ladies didn’t customarily wander about London without a maid or footman, but as she had