Chapter Four
We are dismissed. The other chambermaids and myself, we flee to our room to get changed. I wrap my coat around my sweater and swap out for my regular shoes, then I’m out the staff door, inhaling cool, fresh air. I’m a few steps along the sidewalk when I hear a voice behind me.
“Beg pardon, miss, did you drop your napkin?”
I see that brazen grin again, and his hair looks nearly blond under the streetlamps. As tempted as I am to wait, I keep walking. He, apparently, is not easily shaken off. I hear his brogues catching up. When I can ignore him no longer, I stop.
“Wanted to thank you,” he says.
The rascal is even more handsome up close.
How confident he appears outside of the hotel, no longer invisible.
His skin is the pale sort on most of the Irish lads I know, with freckles across his face.
I’ve always liked freckles. Da says a face without freckles is like a sky without stars.
His light stubble is barely there, but I see it.
Gone is the young fella’s neat suit and waistcoat.
He’s got on a loose white shirt that’s seen better days, braces hold up his trousers, and he’s got an old, battered fedora on his head.
“You’re welcome.”
He twists his mouth a bit. “No telling what that woman was up to.”
I have a pretty good idea, don’t I? I’m sure he does, too. The lad’s no spring chicken, as much as he plays coy. From the sass in his expression, I can tell he’s a ladies’ man. I do not want to weaken, but there goes my stomach again, warm in all the right places. Even worse because I’m hungry.
“Have a good night,” I say, walking again, but I know he’ll follow. He has that manner to him.
“Where you off to?”
“Where do you think? Home to eat and sleep, then back here again.”
“What will you eat?”
I scowl at him. “Don’t be daft.”
“I ask because I’ve something you might like.”
He holds out a bag, like he’s presenting it to me. When he opens it, I smell the kitchen.
My hunger must show on my face, because he chuckles, confident now. Cheeky lad, he is.
“Follow me. Let me show you.”
Granny’d be shaking her head at me, but God help me, I do. I stop short when he heads into an alley, but he only smiles.
“I may look like trouble, miss, but I’ve no ill wishes toward you. It’s only I grabbed a bit of dinner from tonight, see?” He cocks his head. “Every plate I carried out smelled better than anything I’ve had before.”
I’m shook some by his nerve. Stealing food is punishable by firing. Maybe worse. I don’t know the truth of it. “That’s reckless. What was in your head?”
“Only that I wanted to thank you right proper. Maybe take you out for a fine dinner.” He lifts the bag again, his eyes laughing. “May I show you to your table, miss?”
His name is Damien Walsh, he says as he rolls a wooden crate over for me.
Between the aroma coming out of that bag and the sweet invitation on the fella’s face, I can’t help myself.
I sit, and when he pulls from the bag a box piled high with gravy, spuds with butter, and a pile of green beans, don’t I make a small sound of bliss.
I blink some tears, but he doesn’t see. I’m glad to see he’d the sense not to bring cutlery or napkins, for those would have been missed by his boss.
“Bon appétit,” he says, holding the box out to me.
I start out shy, taking a slice of the meat between my fingers and nibbling, but then, sure enough, I give in and let myself enjoy it.
We don’t say a word, because our mouths are full.
I have never tasted the like in my life.
Ah, the gravy! ’Tis wonderful. Nothing like the burnt bits I turn into a weak sauce with water and a sprinkle of flour.
And the potatoes, well, I am tempted to lick the plate clean when we’re done. I’ll admit, I licked my fingers.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You make little noises when you eat, so you do.”
“Get on wit’ you.”
“You do.”
He’s likely right. I make noises sometimes without meaning to. That’s why I had to keep my mouth shut back in the ballroom, so no one would hear my amazement.
“All right,” I mutter. “Thank you for the meal, Damien, but you know you shouldn’t have. They’ll give you the boot if they find out.”
“Aye, but I’m not the only one courting the divil. You shouldn’t have moved, neither, saving me from that woman.”
’Tis true.
“Besides, no one sees me when I don’t want them to. I’m quick, and I know my way around.”
“You’re bold,” I note.
He nods happily. “May I walk you home, then?”
Damien says he lives a few blocks away from me, but I’ve not seen him in The Ward before. I suppose that means nothing, for the place is crowded tight with so many people.
I shrug, trying not to let on that I would enjoy his company more than I should. “Why not? We’re going the same way, aren’t we?”
The next morning he’s waiting outside my door. Brazen lad.
“Why are you here?” I ask, trying not to let on how glad I am to see him.
“So you won’t get lonely,” he replies cheerily.
“I don’t get lonely walking to work,” I assure him.
But his grin is infectious, and something inside me melts. There’s nothing to be done about it: I’m already lost in that saucy smile, though I’ll not mention that to him just yet.
“I fear you might without my company.” He winks. “Come on, Rosie. Let’s go to work.”