“It was vingt-et-un, and you brought me luck. So tell me, what do you think I am?”
He asked his question in a tone that warned her he didn’t expect her to guess correctly. However, she thought his challenge fair. “You don’t strike me as an ostler or some sort of driver. You can’t be a yeoman because with fields to till, you wouldn’t have time to march around the countryside. You could possibly be a horse trainer. However, I suspect you are some sort of salesman because you seem to like traveling.”
Kit came to a halt. “A salesman?” He frowned down at her. “I’m no damnpeddler.”
“You are right,” she agreed. “You are not pleasant enough.”
“Elise...” he said, a warning—if she was wise enough to heed it.
Her response was to laugh as she held up her hands, asking for quarter. “Fine,” she answered. “You could be a tutor. You are well-spoken.”
“Thank you... I think.” They continued walking.
“Or a squire.”
“A squire,” he repeated, acting as if she was elevating him.
She looked up at his amused expression, knowing full well he could be cool and disdainful, if he wished. Under that scruff of beard was a handsome man. Patrician handsome, save for the crooked smile. So, she said, “You might even pass for a prince or aduke.”
For some reason, her statement seemed to give him a start. “Why would you say that?”
She laughed. “I’m jesting. You can’t be a duke. You are too young and you haven’t a paunch over the buttons of your breeches.”
He pondered a moment. “That sounds distasteful.”
“It is,” she assured him. “All dukes are old. That is one thing I learned in London. And they can’t dance. None of them, at least not in my experience.”
Kit gave her a strange look. “You danced with dukes in London?”
His tone confused her. Many people believed titled lords were to be revered. She hadn’t pegged Kit as one of them, but one never knew.
Or, and this was important, his learning her station might set her apart from him—and she didn’t wish that to happen. “It isn’t your turn to ask questions.”
“You only have one more question to ask.”
She made a face. “That second question was part of the first.”
Kit looked regretful. “A question is a question.”
“Very well. Here is my question. Why do you wander homeless?” She was determined to learn something of substance about him.
“You make it sound as if there is no purpose to my wandering.”
“Is there? Please explain, dear sir.”
“I don’t know that I could.” He shot her a look as if he was slightly embarrassed, which made her want the answer all the more.
“It is the rules of the game,” she softly reminded him.
He took that under consideration and then said under his breath, “Very well.” He looked to Elise. “But don’t lose sight of the factyouasked.”
“I’m remarkably curious.”
“That is an understatement.”
She gave him another nudge. This time because she liked moving closer to him.
Freedom to be herself was a heady thing. There were no “rules” or eyes watching her on this road. The other travelers weren’t paying attention. They had no expectations of her, unlike her sisters and Society.
