Poor princess was in for a rude awakening.
“Don’t worry—I’m sure there will be funds left over for you. Your family’s fortune is legendary.” He returned to the books, lest she see his embarrassment at how far apart their stations were. “But yes, many a man would do that to many a woman. Especially one who is a proper villain.” He threw her his best glare.
“Is that what you’re supposed to be? A villain?” She cocked her head, her expression curious—and not the least bit intimidated. “Is that why children aren’t to come near you?”
If only. Such a reputation would probably garner him quite a bit more respect, if nothing else.
“Perhaps.” He cracked his knuckles in an attempt at malevolence. But she didn’t even flinch.
He sighed. Time for more honesty, no matter how humiliating. “No. I’m not a villain in your story. Think of me more as a bit player. And I’m no get refuser,” he added, “never mind the kind of man women like you look for. I don’t have the pedigree.”
“Well, you certainly aren’t on the matchmaker’s list,” she said thoughtfully. “Those, I presume, are the men you believe could conquer me, instead of the other way around.” Brows knitting, she sank back against the bookshelf, her posture bent. As if his words were actually making sense to her. As if she was listening. Tohim.
That would be a first.
Except, as his gaze traced over her face, her jaw tightened, and her nose tipped into the air. And when her eyes met his, they twinkled, well, deviously. As if she was plotting something. Never a good sign. He’d heard enough gossip to know that schemers, especially the charming ones, wreaked havoc.
Which meant he should keep his mouth shut, but at the thought of the vibrant woman before him trapped or brought low, the useless words poured out.
“I know you don’t want my advice, but I would search for a partner who cares for you. Be the princess, not the witch. In the end, they’re the ones who get to be happy forever, after all.” He brushed the hair off his forehead as she simply stared back at him.
Oy. He was making a fool of himself. More than usual. He sucked in a breath. “And you should leave. Someone is probably looking for you, and I have work to do.”
“You aren’t supposed to work on Shabbat.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you? Shouldn’t you be off until sundown?”
“I’m not working, really, just arranging.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Perhaps he was working a touch. However, Old Will, the goy they’d hired for Shabbas, was getting, well, old. The man had another head cold but needed the money and the work. And what the rest of the congregation didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Not that he could explain that to her.
“Alone and out of sight.” She raised a single finger to those plump red lips. “Why? I mean, you’re awfully young for this sort of job, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you have a trade?”
Aaron stared at her. Wasn’t she full of surprises?Clever, clever girl—woman—witch—whatever.
“Shouldn’t you?” she repeated, pushing herself off the shelf, hands on her hips.
“This is a trade, in a way. It’s better done by someone young, as it’s rather physical. I’m good at it. I earn my keep.” And he enjoyed it. At times. It was better than stewing and living on the community’s charity alone. Well—on only its direct charity.
“Your keep? That’s a peculiar way of talking about your salary, especially as you’re too old to be an apprentice. Who ‘keeps’ you? And from what?” She frowned.
Was she truly so naïve? Did she not understand what happened to those who were neither “learners” nor “earners” within the community’s bounds? Who didn’t have families to prop them up financially?
There was a shrinking number of menial and serving jobs to be had among their own kind. While some of their people had managed to both remain Jewish and financially thrive in spite of the myriad of legal, political, and social obstacles, their number was not large enough to independently support the entire community. After that, you were at the mercy of the gentiles and whatever treatment they deemed fit.
He was quite lucky, he reminded himself. Not only had the London Commission of Delegates saved him the moment he’d encountered real trouble on the gentile streets, but they’d pathed the way for his return, with a position even he could manage.
Aaron’s lip twitched. It truly was funny she hadn’t heard his story. Her own father had headed the Commission then. Though the Sephardis, who claimed to be more civilized, like their gentile counterparts, usually acknowledged his ilk only if they had a certain amount of money and power.
Or were causing problems.
He leaned against the shelf, letting the hard wood dig into his back. “That’s not important. But think about what I said—look for a love match. That’s the best way to protect yourself.”
She sucked in a harsh breath. “Love is for children and innocents. I’m neither.”
“Then marry one.” He crossed his ankles.
“I can’t marry a child.” She gasped in obvious horror. “That’s disgusting.”
“No, marry an innocent, a man who believes in love and marriage and family. Who will want to give all that to you.” All the dreams to which he’d once secretly clung, even if they’d never be available to the likes of him, even if he could imagine such a future only in stories. Dreams that she—unlike him—could obtain. He drew in a breath through his nose, willing down the stab of jealousy in his gut. It wasn’t her fault that he was merely who he was and no more. “You’ve all the makings of a princess: you’re rich, from a prominent family, and pretty—with a sharp tongue and a wicked sense of humor. It should be fairly easy.”
She gave him a wink. “Unfortunately, I require a husband befitting my family and its status, one who is properly clever, ambitious, and charming.” As if he didn’t know that. “One who believes himself a prince.” She flashed a lopsided smile. “One who would believe that a biddable, sweet wife would serve him best. And as I’m neither, I’m going to need to stick to the arrangement I have planned. But thank you for the compliments. It’s good to know—”
