He needed to forget her. They were not for each other. Because gifts and kisses were lovely but there was always a price. One she would no doubt be the one to pay—something she’d learned long ago. And with the way things were, any price was much too high. He should really just go to a professional if he wanted a “practice mistress,” or whatever goyishe accoutrement he was aiming for, given his brother’s affinity for that world. They had actual skills and would establish proper boundaries assuring everyone’s safety and had the time and the wherewithal and—she dropped the bottle into her pocket.
“I’ll never get drunk on delusions of being anything I’m not,” she said with a sigh before glancing out the window at the sky. “We should close.”
“You should go and thank him,” Tamar said, leaning her elbows on the counter.
“No.” Hannah shook her head. “I should go to bed. Or…” She frowned. “Return it. I should return it.” And tell him specifically that things were over between them, and he couldn’t be bothering her anymore. Especially if he truly wanted to stay out of trouble as hisbrother wished. She gave her sister a nod as she pulled on her cloak.
“Right. Because that’s what will happen.” Tamar rolled her eyes before nudging Hannah toward the back door. “I won’t wait up.”
Sol stared out the window into the night sky. Had she received the package? Well, she most certainly had. Aaron had confirmed it. That wasn’t really the question he was asking. No, it was more, did she like it?
Or if he was being truly honest with himself, what would she do next?
“What are you trying to accomplish?” That had been Aaron’s question when Sol had initially tasked him with fetching a selection of perfumes. He’d visited “poor, sick Sol,” while delivering paperwork from his wife’s company. Sol, in turn, had done his best coughing performance for his friend, feeling only a modicum of guilt over the lie while he asked for this one favor.
“I just want to… make her smile?” Sol had rubbed the back of his neck, unable to articulate a clearer explanation of his motives because damned if he knew. “I know that sounds rather silly and I know Isabelle and the Berabs—and of course Frederick—won’t be pleased if I involve myself with her, and I will end things. Soon. Very soon. After all, I am going to marry who Frederick chooses. Before that, I only wanted to, well, do something nice?”
“You’re playing with fire. I should go to Isabelle and have her put a stop to this nonsense as, obviously, I can’t convince you to do so for your own good,” the otherman had grumbled before returning the next day with half a dozen bottles for him to choose from.
Sol had tested them each, finding one that was close, but still none quite suited.
“It should smell like moonlight,” he’d said, ignoring his friend’s, albeit justified, complaining. Because that’s what Hannah was to him. Moonlight and danger and bravery and magic. And if he couldn’t give her more, she deserved at the very least a gift worthy of her. Not that he could explain that to Aaron without sounding even more foolish than he already did. He’d only repeated the “moonlight” notion with a shrug, and gave him poor, sick, Sol eyes.
“I have no idea what that means.” Aaron had thrown up his hands but returned with a new bottle the following afternoon. It had helped that he’d done all his paperwork for the company ahead of schedule and probably put a smile on Isabelle’s face. Something he may or may not have mentioned while asking his friend.
Luckily when Sol had sniffed the new bottle, it was perfect. At least to him.
But would it be for Hannah? That was the true question.
“You shouldn’t be sending me gifts,” a female voice said.
Sol whirled around, eyes searching the dark of his room. He pinched himself, but no, he wasn’t dreaming—she was there, standing against the door. Wearing the same cloak and dress as she had the night that they’d last parted.
“How did you get in here?” he managed to ask.
“I entered through the same door I did before.” She indicated the hall.
“It’s supposed to be locked,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Someone was supposed to lock it,” he repeated. If not, he’d have to start doing it himself because a robbery would certainly not help Frederick’s suit of Lady Drucilla, nor convince Penrose they were respectable.
“It was,” she confirmed with a shrug but didn’t elaborate. Apparently, locks weren’t a bother for her. She folded her arms and tipped her chin. “Don’t send me more gifts.” She gave him a rather stormy gaze that made him flinch a touch inside. “I’m not the kind for gifts.”
He rolled his eyes. “Everyone is the kind for gifts.” He peered at her, searching the contours of her face for the true emotion behind what he was beginning to realize was quite an elaborate mask. “You didn’t like it?”
“That’s not what I said. The perfume is not the problem.” She somehow hardened her glare.
“So it’s me that’s the problem?” he asked softly as his chest burned. Perhaps he’d read, well, everything wrong. Perhaps the time indoors was getting to his mind. Perhaps—he hung his head for a moment. “I apologize, Hannah. I made a mistake. I thought you—”
“No.” Hannah gave him a swat on the shoulder.
“Ow.” He rubbed his arm. “What did you do that for?”
“Because you’re—you’re not hearing me. At least not right. Oy. Will you just listen for a moment?” She shook her head before sighing. “You’re not the problem. I am. I’m not the sort of woman you buy pretty things for. I’m not the type of woman one woos. Nor am I an opera singer or actress who a fashionable gentile would hire as a mistress. I’m not even a street professionalwith regular clientele who merits extra appreciation. I’m not the type that men…” She glanced down as she trailed off.
“Men what?” he asked, even if a part of him already suspected the response.
She lifted her head. “Men have only wanted me either, at best, as a momentary substitute for someone better or, at worst, as a chance to show their dominance over something weaker. Not as someone to covet. I have made my peace with it, and so should you.”
Sol gawked at her. Did she truly believe that? Truly? Yes, her life had certainly not been easy and the world had punished her many times over, but still. This was Hannah. Bold, clever, passionate Hannah.
