odd little creatures, aren’t they? I wonder who was the first individual to think to eat them. That person had quite a lot of imagination, wouldn’t you think?” He raised the shell to eye level, rotating it to view from all sides. It was beautiful, truly, when you truly looked at it. That he could see the beauty was something new—he’d kept himself shrouded from emotions for so long that recognizing beauty was a terrifying and incredible experience.
Was this how she walked through life every day? Looking at things and noting their size, or their fishy smell, or their beauty?
“Thank you for letting me discuss your fish,” Nash said, putting the whelk back onto the pile.
The merchant gestured to his wares. “Don’t you want any of it? You paid me plenty.”
Nash waved his hand. “No, thank you, I paid for the privilege of speaking with you today.”
He nodded, then made his way determinedly down the street, walking toward the flower sellers.
It had taken three days for him to venture out of his house after that evening. Not because he didn’t want to see her, because of course he did, but he needed to ensure he was prepared for what he was going to do. And he also had to make everything right in his own house before going to hers.
First he’d spoken to all of his staff members, both individually and as a group. He’d never told them about his experiences with his father, nor had he bothered to ask them about the same thing.
But he’d spoken with his mother, sifted through his memories, and discovered he and his half siblings had a lot more in common than just a parent. The people he’d gathered in his house weren’t just people he owed because of someone else’s callous cruelty; they were family.
He’d never truly had family beyond Sebastian and Thaddeus.
It felt terrifying and amazing.
He and his mother were forging a relationship as well. He was grateful to find that her husband worshipped the ground she walked on, and she was actually happy.
His grandmother asked him every time she saw him what he was going to do about Lady Ana Maria.
He’d told her he needed to make sure he was good enough for her. That seemed to satisfy her until the next time she saw him.
And now he was walking the streets of London, practicing telling people what he thought. Speaking to them instead of passing them by or ignoring them.
There were three separate flower sellers side by side in the market. Each had an assortment of roses and—and a bunch of other types of flowers that he did not recognize.
“Tell me,” he said, walking up to the first seller and picking up a posy, “what is this flower?”
The flower seller was an older lady, likely around his mother’s age, with gray hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, a white apron tied around her waist. She was very fair-skinned, with bright patches of red on her cheeks.
“That is a gloriosa, my lord,” she said. The flower was striking, sharp purple tendrils emerging from a pale green base. The flower looked like it could double as a weapon, and Nash imagined Ana Maria would appreciate its dual use, given her own duality: Cinderella, both before and after. The scullery maid transformed into a lady, but not because of some fairy, but because of her. And still clearly conflicted about the transformation.
“And this one?” He picked up another flower, this one a meek yellow-and-orange flower that was not at all weapon-like.
“Marigold,” she replied.
“Come and see what I have, my lord,” the second seller said. Nash nodded, searching in his pockets for more coins. He dropped an equal amount into each of their hands.
“Do you have any tulips?”
All three sellers nodded, then each began to pluck flowers from their buckets. “It is a pleasure to find a gentleman who is interested in flowers,” the first seller said. She selected a few flowers from each of her sections, handing him a small bouquet. Then the other two did the same, and the first seller took all the flowers from his grasp, fashioning them into an enormous bunch.
“That looks splendid, don’t you agree?” the first seller said, turning to the other two, who nodded their assent. “Take this to your lady with our thanks,” she added, handing him the bouquet.
Nash stared at it—roses, gloriosas, marigolds, and a few other blooms that must have been tulips, a glorious tumult of color