known that you’d threaten me—despicable, cowardly fellow that you are. I used to think you better than other men, but now—”
Shock, wounded pride, and agonizing hurt clutched at him, and he could barely breathe. Or was the breathlessness because her face was so close to his that it would take a mere tilt of his head to kiss her?
Damn everything to hell. He was fighting with the only woman who’d ever made him happy. No man in his right mind would do that.
“Enough.” He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, not bothering to close the door. The goose could do what it pleased. Let Fate decide.
If it weren’t for his disfigurement, Julia would surely never have been so cruel, so insulting. His father had been right. He’d been a fool to risk his good looks and ruin his chances of a match with a woman of quality. Julia’s reaction to him was all the proof he needed.
Let her have the accursed goose if she needed it that badly. At least he’d never have to set eyes on her again and suffer the agony of a wound that had never fully healed.
Chapter Three
“Oh, Mistress—we shall dine well on this.” Hal’s dirty face glowed with pleasure.
Julia frowned. “Unless we keep it for the eggs. Alas, I cannot tell whether ’tis a goose or a gander.”
“Then we’ll have to find someone who knows, and if ’tis a gander, we’ll exchange it for a goose.”
Then there’d be questions asked about how they’d come by the bird, and they’d be thrown into the Bridewell or some other noisome prison. Julia knew how vile such places were—she’d visited one in rural Suffolk, and that had been bad enough. She’d heard far worse of the London houses of correction.
How simple the world could seem in a child’s mind! It was almost a shame to educate their innocence away. She smiled fondly at Hal as she poured the watery stew into his bowl. In truth, she was far too indulgent toward him, but his company and loyalty were worth more to her than gold. Such a pity he would have to grow up and be sent off to find an apprenticeship.
Though warm, the stew contained a good deal of mutton fat and no meat at all. As she picked a stringy piece of pea pod out of her teeth, she lamented not having her own hearth over which to cook. Having to pay for hot food put such a dent in their meager reserves—but she mustn’t let Hal know how dire their circumstances were, or he’d go back to being a cut-purse.
She’d first met the boy when he’d tried to steal a loaf from her basket. Feeling the movement, she’d caught him by the ear, planning to march him to the nearest constable. Only—he’d been such a pitiful scrap of a thing that she couldn’t do it. The child was an oddity, with sore red patches where once his eyebrows had been, and when he’d told her the heartbreaking story of how he’d lost all his family in a fire, she’d taken him to the nearest tavern and bought him a mug of small beer. He’d stayed under her protection ever since, but she’d never managed to get much of his story out of him. She’d always sensed tears near the surface, so had given up questioning him. Like her, he didn’t want to be reminded of what he’d lost.
It made her cringe to think how easily she’d parted with her coin all those months ago. She’d sold her jewels on arrival in London, and thought herself rich. But then she’d had to budget and plan, to learn how much things cost, to work out how much needed to be set aside for rent and necessities. Her capital wouldn’t permit her to live in idleness.
Her initial scheme to use her skill at sewing and become a seamstress had earned her naught but derision from those who ran the workshops. London, it seemed, was full of disgraced gentlewomen like herself, none of whom had skills to offer other than their abilities with a needle. She’d soon given up and decided to go into business for herself.
Swallowing down a last greasy mouthful of stew, she smiled at Hal. “As soon as we’ve finished eating, I must wash my decorations, or the dirt will dry hard on them, and I’ll never get it out.” She wasn’t looking forward to dipping her hands in freezing water—they were red