He lifted his hand toward her—and let it fall. Nothing to say, no time to say it. Without a word, he turned and left her… again.
Chapter Five
Past
“Where in blazes have the two of you been?”
Kitty’s voice reverberated through the cramped quarters they’d been occupying for the past week. The inn was a decrepit, vermin-infested place just beyond the outskirts of London, and it was still more than they could afford at the moment.
Andrew, who’d just passed through the door with Primrose, felt the little girl’s hand tremble in his, her cheerful song dying in her throat. Her gaze bounced between him and Kitty. Crumbs of gingerbread—the first she’d tasted and which she’d joyfully inhaled—clung to her quivering chin.
“I told you I was taking Primrose to the mop fair,” he said in even tones. “Since she’s never seen one—”
“Why would the stupid brat need to see a hiring fair full o’ clodhoppers?”
Hearing the slurred edge to Kitty’s words, he surmised that the heightened color on her face didn’t come from paint. Her chignon had unraveled, russet strands lying heavily upon her shoulders. Her gown was a field of stains.
When Kitty was in her altitudes, she was less than pleasant to be around, and since their escape from Black three months ago, she’d been in this state more and more often. Her bitter litany ran through his head: she hated being on the flit, hated being destitute… hated doing “charity work.” For when it rained, it poured: despite Kitty’s repeated letters to the man who was supposed to pay for Primrose’s upkeep, the money had ceased to come.
Seeing the virulent flash in Kitty’s eyes, Andrew felt his gut tighten. Best to get Primrose out of here while he dealt with the situation.
“Go play outside,” he told the girl softly. “Don’t wander far.”
“Yes, Andrew.”
She turned to go; Kitty’s voice halted her.
“What have you got there?” the bawd snapped.
Primrose’s throat worked above the plain collar of her frock. “G-got, Miss Kitty?”
“In your hand, you dimwit!” Before Andrew could stop her, Kitty marched over to the cowering girl, snatching the object from her hand. “Where did you get this?”
Primrose’s lips, though trembling, remained pressed together. Despite her obvious fear, she didn’t look in his direction. He felt a curious pang… of respect. The four-year-old showed more loyalty and backbone than most adults he knew.
“Answer me, or I’ll box your ears! Who gave you this?” Kitty shook the cheap rag doll in Primrose’s face.
“Leave her alone,” Andrew said quietly. “I gave it to her.”
Kitty spun around to face him, and he braced for the storm.
“You didwhat?” she screeched, flinging the doll across the room.
He jerked his head at Primrose. Getting the message, the tot dashed off the battlefield… but not before scooping up her doll, cradling it like a wounded soldier. Kitty, her anger now targeted at him, didn’t notice.
“We are living like bleedingpaupers,” she shouted, “and you squander our coin on that worthless little leech?”
“Don’t speak of her that way. She’s a child, for God’s sake.” He hated when Kitty was in this state, hated how familiar it felt to be on the receiving end of a drunken tirade. “And it is notourcoin which I spent but my own.”
His private stash—which had taken years to save—was now nearly gone. Faced with the prospect of no food or shelter, he’d had no choice but to offer it up. The only reason he had any money left was because he’d managed to win a few card games here and there. He’d never liked gambling, but he was discovering that he had a knack for it. Not that he wanted to rely on capricious Lady Luck.
“Your pockets are as let as mine.” Kitty’s lips curled in derision. “You’ve but one skill worth anything, Corby, andthathasn’t been in evidence,”—her gaze dropped to his groin—“in quite some time.”
He hadn’t tupped her since they’d been on the flit. Hadn’t wanted to. Pointing out that fact didn’t seem like the wisest course of action at present.
Instead, he ignored her dig and tried a different tactic. “On the topic of employable skills, that was why I went to the mop fair in the first place. To see what jobs were available.”
Kitty stared at him—then threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, Corby, pull my other leg, eh? It’s shorter.”
