“That’s different. They’re different. I’m speaking of passion—”
“You didn’t stop me from kissing you earlier. What are you afraid of? Of discovering something even better than what we had? Or perhaps you fear discovering we paid an ungodly price for something that wasn’t worth paying anything at all for.”
She released a great gust of air. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just want to make sure we’re being realistic going into this arrangement. I’m not certain we were before, and I think it’s imperative we are now to avoid any further hurt.”
“If you never experience pain, Vivi, how can you ever truly appreciate the joy that arrives when you don’t?”
His words seemed simple when in truth she found his sentiment profound. She’d once never gone without, and during the past three months she’d struggled with her dwindling finances and what she felt now, knowing the struggle was behind her, was sweet indeed. She’d always taken for granted what she’d had. No longer.
But it was more than that. Before, everything had been given to her, and now, with Finn’s help, she would be earning her coins, she would be gaining independence in a way she hadn’t before. Since leaving her family, all her decisions had been her own, but many of her actions had been tempered by her lack of funds. His offer was opening up an entirely different world for her. She would be able to see to her own needs, care for herself. There was power to be found in not relying on anyone—even though she had to acknowledge she was reliant on his generosity. But once the papers were signed, once they became partners, she would earn her way, make herself invaluable. He’d given her an opportunity to make something of herself that she had no intention of squandering.
She’d always followed the path set before her, but now she had the means to forge her own route, could determine her own destination. She wanted to glory in it.
He had no idea how broken she’d been, and if she had her way, he’d never learn the entire truth of it. Finally, she was on the mend, stronger than she’d been. A shattered teacup, pieced back together, might not be as lovely to look at as one that had never been dropped, but if both were dropped again, the shattered one was less likely to break because it was reinforced with glue. She drew comfort from that.
She didn’t respond to him. The point of his question had been to make her think, not to obtain an answer. And he didn’t press. He sat there with no tension whatsoever radiating off him. She marveled at the calm of him. She’d noted it that first night in the alleyway when the women had threatened her. He didn’t fear the dark or any of the miscreants who crept through it. He was capable of caring for himself, had learned to put all his faith in his abilities.
It was something about herself she was only just coming to comprehend: she had the power to stand on her own. Any victory or defeat came about because of her own actions, her own decisions, her own resolve.
The carriage came to a halt. Immediately he opened the door and leaped out before reaching back for her.
“Keep driving along these streets,” he called up to the driver. “Periodically make your way back here. This is where we’ll meet you when we’ve completed our task.”
As the carriage carried on, he turned to her. “Lead the way.”
It wasn’t very far, and they were a bit early. She was grateful he’d had the foresight to bring the carriage. A brisk wind whipped through the air, bringing a chill with it that caused her to shiver. She brought her pelisse in more snugly against her as she stepped over rubbish and recalled the path she was to follow from this point. They seemed to walk through a maze of warrens before she reached the darkened building with a long sash tied around the handle. She wasn’t to go in. The meeting wouldn’t happen there. The sash merely marked the spot.
“How many?” he asked.
Widening her eyes, looking in the direction from which his voice had come, she realized he was lost in the shadows. “Pardon?”
“How many children tonight?”
“Three.”
Only when a woman finally approached, barely limned by the light of a distant streetlamp, three children were clinging to her skirt, fairly tripping over their feet in their effort to keep up with her pace, and one babe was nestled in her arms. “Ye be the one wot wants to pay me for this brood?”
Lavinia stepped forward, already reaching for the smallest. “Yes, I am.”
“That’ll be ten quid.”
She stopped as though the carriage had returned and now separated her from them. “You said five.”
The woman bounced the infant. “That was afore I got this one handed over to me last night. Fresh from the womb, I’d say. Ye want ’er, it’ll be ten quid for the lot of them.”
The other three blinked up at her through large, round eyes, eyes too large for their thin faces. She looked back to the shadows. “Have you any money on you?”
“I have.” He stepped forward into the light. “But you won’t be needing it.”
The baby farmer squeaked like a rat pounced on by a cat. “Who ye be?”
“Trewlove. Perhaps you’ve heard of my family.”
The woman took another step back. “I’ve ’erd of ye.”
“Then you’ll know we tend not to tolerate those who seek to take advantage of others,” Finn said. “You’ve only just acquired the infant. I doubt you’ve paid a single penny for its care, so what was handed to you last night is pure profit. Be content with that. Otherwise you might find me stealing into your residence some night.” He gave the beastly woman a smile that sent a chill racing down Lavinia’s back.
“’Ere.” She thrust the babe into Lavinia’s arms, then worked to free her skirts of the fisted hands that clung to them, transferring the children to Lavinia’s pelisse.
