“I used to live there.” He gestured back toward the entrance. “On the other side of that door is another set of rooms, above the original smithy. That’s where my parents live.”
Felicity blinked. That meant Giles’s “rooms” spanned half the block.. and his parents’ rooms spanned the other half.
“How did you afford it?” she asked.
Not a question one asked in polite society, but she and Giles were not currently in polite society. They were two people who had once intimately known the value and loss of every half-penny.
“Racing,” he answered simply. “As it turns out, the risk-taking business is far more lucrative than the horseshoe-plating business.”
This did not surprise Felicity at all. Not anymore, that was.
When she and Cole attempted to join society, they had both been appalled at the staggering sums wagered for no apparent reason.I say my dog has bigger paws than your dog. The next person who walks through the door will be wearing a feathered cap. I bet my ancestral home that the next card I turn over will be the Jack of Diamonds.
Cole had never wagered a farthing until he was invited to participate in the races. Coddled aristocrats might know everything there was to know about purchasing fine thoroughbreds and fancy coaches, but Felicity and Cole knew what it meant to be the ones taking care of them.
Her brother wasn’t nearly the whip or the daredevil that Giles was—Cole only accepted dares he was certain he could win—but if the offer to race for money had been made to them twelve years ago, back when their long hours at the smithy was the closest they could come to securing any kind of a future…
She and her brother would have made the exact same choice Giles had.
A knife twisted in her chest as she wondered how different things might have been if she’d met Giles as equals, rather than as the titled sister of one of his aristocratic clients. Instead of running a charitable foundation funded by well-to-do philanthropists, she might be up to her elbows in axle grease, teaching boys and girls alike how to maintain a carriage. Instead of marrying a marquess, she’d…
She reached for Giles’s hand. “I…”
Before she could continue, a white-haired woman with bright blue eyes burst into the parlor with arms laden with brown-paper parcels.
“Biscuits for the lads,” she announced, then stopped dead at the sight of Felicity. “And I suppose this is the reason why I also brought lemon tarts?”
Felicity leaped to her feet to dip an elegant curtsey. When she realized she was still wearing trousers, she switched to an awkward bow halfway through.
“You baked lemon tarts for me?” she stammered in the hopes of distracting their visitor from whatever disaster of bent limbs Felicity had just performed.
“Oh, heavens no,” the woman laughed. “I’m a terrible cook. These are from the bakery down the street. Obadiah sends his regards, by the way. His wagon has never been in better condition.”
“Felicity,” Giles said, “meet my mother. Mother, this is Felicity.”
A lonesome stab of longing flashed through Felicity’s heart. A deep yearning to be something more than a mere guest. To share Giles’s home, his shop, his life. His wonderful mother, with her lemon tarts and warm, friendly smile.
“I won’t interrupt for long,” Mrs. Langford said, her knowing eyes twinkling. “I just wanted to bring biscuits for his little helpers.”
He kissed her cheek and reached for one of the parcels.
Mrs. Langford moved it out of reach. “None for you, sir. The biscuits are for your young apprentices, and that’s final. If you’d like a lemon tart…” She handed a string-tied parcel to Felicity. “Then you’ll have to work out your transaction with the lemon tarts’ rightful owner.”
Giles’s mouth fell open.
The marvelous Mrs. Langford took the chair to Felicity’s right. “May I have one?”
“You may have three.” Felicity placed them in Mrs. Langford’s palm, charmed. How she would love to have a mother like this! “Please say you can stay for Second Tea? You seem like a woman who must possess unlimited amusing stories about embarrassing anecdotes in Giles’s past.”
“Do I ever,” Mrs. Langford agreed, popping a lemon tart into her mouth. “And I would be delighted to share every last one of them with you. First, there was the time at the Peerless Pool, when he—”
“Mother…” Giles began in warning.
Mrs. Langford waved his interruption away. “Oh, very well. It’ll have to be next time, my dear. I’m afraid I cannot stay long.” Her tone lowered as she turned to her son. “Might you come by soon… to…”
“Yes,” he said quickly. “I haven’t forgotten.”
Felicity’s smile faltered. The mirage shimmered and popped. Something was up, but their lives had nothing to do with her. That was not her family. This was not her home.
She didn’t belong.
