“You will have some delightful memories, I hope.”
“I will,” she said wistfully. “I only wish…”
“That your life could always be parties and fashion discussions over tea?”
“Yes,” she said, the glumness returning to her voice.
For a few moments, he thought on the difficulties of her life. Every night she sat in a cage and assessed jewelry sold to her family by dissolute men of the worst sort. By day, she fashioned jewelry, likely in another back room. She had little company, few diversions, if any, and probably saw the best years of her life slipping away.
“Is there some way that you have fun? Perhaps a young man who brings you posies and sweetmeats?” The idea didn’t sit well with him, but that was his lust speaking. She was a desirable woman, so naturally, he wanted her for himself. “Perhaps one of those large men who were threatening me earlier today.”
“There is a man,” she said softly. “A prince who dances divinely. He brings me flowers and writes poetry. He dresses in bright colors and laughs like a violin played very fast.” She turned to him, and she seemed to be looking at his face as she spoke, comparing him feature to feature with this prince. “His nose is strong and his jaw hard, and his eyes sparkle like emeralds in the sun.” Her gaze traveled away from him now to the sky as the sun set with brilliant colors. “He’ll be a great leader someday, but for now, he spends his time studying the great thinkers of the world.” She shot him a wry look. “And writing me poetry, of course. Truthfully, he’s not that good at it, but I love every word.”
“And does he sing arias to you as well?” There was a sourness in his tone that he didn’t like, but he couldn’t stop.
“Oh, naturally,” she said. “And at that, he’sverygood.”
He didn’t respond at first. Simply sat there and guided the horses while, inside, he was envisioning her stretched out on a bed while this paragon read poetry to her. Later, he would set the book aside and stroke her body with a leisurely caress. The bastard had clear intent, but she was too innocent to know and too enraptured by his words to notice when his hand traveled to indecent places.
“Who is this prince?” he demanded gruffly. “Where is his kingdom? Have I met him?” He expected that she would say the nearby bakery or tinker stall, maybe a haberdashery. Didn’t they all style themselves as kings of their respective trades? He did not expect her sudden peal of laughter.
“He’s not real, you goose! I made him up years ago when I started working every night in the cage. It can get boring in there, and so when I tire of sketching, I look out at the men on the floor and imagine them better. Smarter, sweeter, and more interested in me than in the dice or cards.” She snorted. “That last part is the most important.”
It would have to be. And didn’t he feel stupid for feeling jealous of an imaginary man? “A prince, you say. Why not a king?”
“Because they are busy ruling their kingdom. A prince has time to play.”
“Of course.” He relaxed into the game now that he knew none of it was real. “And is this a prince of England? Or of some other clime?”
“Most times, it’s here. I have spent nearly all my life in London, and so why not become Queen of England? Other times he is from a very warm, sunny place with bright flowers and fruits that can be plucked from trees that grow everywhere.”
“You are imagining Spain or Italy, then. Africa is too hot and the colonies too far away.”
“Oh no,” she said. “I have read of islands in the middle of the ocean with turtles and huge birds.”
He nodded. “The Galapagos, then.” The British navy had discovered it some thirty years ago. “James Colnett was a friend of my father. He is the one who drew the navigation charts. Every night, I would pester him until he told me about the giant turtles or the birds with blue feet.”
“Birds with blue feet? Truly?”
“Like a seagull only much smaller. White neck and face, black wings, and bright blue, webbed feet.”
She sighed. “How I wish I could see that.” Then she smiled. “It’s decided. My prince is definitely from Galapagos. After we’re wed, I shall lay every day in the sunshine and watch the blue-footed birds. And then at night, I will go into the shop and fashion their likeness in silver and gold. Sapphires for their feet, diamonds for their eyes, and black onyx for the wings.”
He turned to her, surprised. “You shall work even when you’re a queen?”
“Fashioning jewelry is not work, my lord. It is the happiest part of my day.” She glanced at him. “Save talking fashion over tea and attending a ball.”
“Save that, of course.” It was a good thing that she took joy in her family’s trade. So many did their work merely because their fathers and grandfathers had. They went through the motions as their attention wandered to something else entirely. But even though she apparently loved it, he still thought her life restricted. “Surely, there is a real man who has caught your attention. You are an attractive woman. I wager many men are looking at you. Do you not look back at any of them?”
Were he to ask such a thing of a woman in his own set, he would be handed a severe dressing down, and rightly so. It was an impolite question. But she was a tradeswoman and he a lord. Some questions were allowed, provided the lady herself was not insulted.
“They have looked, to be sure,” she said, her voice muted. “They look at the gemstones in the shop and at the fine wool I wear for all that it is a dull brown.”
“You have been hurt by some blighters, then. I am sorry for it.”
She snorted. “All women of means have been hurt by blighters. I begin to think there are no honest men left.”
“You cannot judge all men by those who frequent the Lyon’s Den.”