“What do you do, Finn? Are you still a slaughterer?”
“Going to prison for horse theft put an end to that.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry.”
Leaning across, he took her hand, wished he’d brought her a pair of gloves, was glad he hadn’t, and squeezed her fingers. “You weren’t to blame. I don’t want us thinking about that tonight.”
She opened her eyes, and the sadness within them would have brought him to his knees had he been standing. “What do you want?”
Hell if he knew. To go back eight years. To start anew. But that would mean forgetting all the wonderful moments they’d had together. To begin where they’d left off? That would require facing the pain. “A bit of conversation. A few laughs, some beer. Something to eat. A lovely lady on my arm.”
She gave him half a smile. “No flirting.”
He grinned crookedly. “We’ll see.”
She sighed, and in the sound he thought he heard her surrender.
“If you’re not a slaughterer, what do you do?”
“A little of this, a little of that.”
“Such a man of mystery.”
He supposed if he wanted her to tell him everything, he couldn’t hold his own story back. “I earn coins working for Aiden.”
“In his gambling hell?”
“I do the odd job there, but mostly I put the fear of God into those who owe him money and don’t seem to be on the verge of paying him. I visited Dearwood the other night. Collected some collateral from him and threatened to break his arm if he didn’t wear a splint.”
“Is that what you do? Break arms?”
She didn’t sound horrified, but rather sad that his life had come to such an uninviting place. “I’ve had to punch a fellow now and again, but only because he came at me. Or didn’t take me seriously. A bloody nose usually teaches a fellow I’m not there as a lark. They owe my brother. They will pay my brother. And from time to time, if a bloke gives me a particularly hard time, I threaten to break his arm if he doesn’t wear a splint for six weeks and inform people I’m the one responsible for it. Enhances my reputation as a bad bloke to deal with.”
“So Dearwood gave you a difficult time.”
He shrugged. “Not really. But I recalled not much liking him when I met him years ago”—his dancing with her playing a major role in his attitude toward the man—“and felt a need to make sport of him.”
She smiled, only a small smile, but it was a start. “I’ve never fancied Dearwood. Something about him isn’t quite... nice.”
“He’s a bit of an arse.”
Her lips spread more fully, more beautifully, and he felt somewhat victorious, grateful he still had the ability to coax joy from her, grateful she still had it within her to experience gladness. “How do you earn your keep, Vivi?”
“In exchange for my room and board, I give lessons to the children in the morning. Reading, writing, ciphering. The remainder of the day I scrub floors and make beds and am very much a maid-of-all-work. I’m not complaining, mind you, but I am searching for an occupation that will provide me with a bit more than that. Coins, for example, as I want to create more shelters for children. There are so many unwanted children, Finn.”
The smile was gone now, the sadness had returned. “I know.”
She’d made them her cause, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the same would have happened had they married all those years ago. Doubtful, as she’d have had a brood of children of her own to care for by now.
She glanced back out the window. “It looks as though we’ve left London. Where are we going?”
“Not far. I heard of a nearby village having a little fete. It’s unlikely anyone will recognize us.” Certainly no lords or ladies would be in attendance to spot or question her. Most were away at their country estates by now, save for the young bucks who found more adventure in town, many at his brother’s gambling establishment.
She studied her hands, knotted in her lap. “Is there anyone special in your life?”
“I have a good many special people in my life.”
Lifting her head, she moved her lips into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m glad.” And turned her attention back to the passing scenery.
