Chapter 4
MARIETTA
The smell of baking bread and fresh herbs greeted me as I entered the kitchen the next morning. I nearly skipped a step in relief. Rosaire had helped me dress, and it smelled as if she had cooked again. Her stew had been delicious.
I paused in the doorway. Noble paged through papers on the heavily scarred table as he sipped a cup of tea. A fine line of steam danced above the rim and lifted into the air.
I didn’t move for a second, once more stunned by his physical presence, then stepped forward, determined not to do anything foolhardy like trip or stare. Without looking up, he gestured to the teapot. I poured a full cup, warming my hands on the porcelain.
I marveled at the house spells once more. They were woven tight, layered deep—the kind that required constant renewal or massive reserves.
“Interesting reading?” I indicated the stack of papers, determined to be congenial.
Noble stopped turning pages and regarded me, a lock of hair falling into one eye. “These are the notes on the case. Mostly legal jargon. But a Master Archibald Penner is the one who captured your brother and claimed the reward.”
I stiffened and reached for the papers. Surprisingly, he relinquished them without protest.
I skimmed the pages until I came upon the last one. Archibald Penner’s address was listed. He lived near Carowell.
Noble poured another cup of tea. “Would you like to pay Master Penner a visit?” He regarded me over the steaming cup, tendrils curling around his green eyes and dissipating into the air. A demon asking if I desired vengeance.
I looked at the page in my hand. Lines blurred so that the address stood starkly against the crisp parchment.
“Yes,” I whispered. This was the man who had sent Kennen to prison and whose testimony might send him to his death.
A finger lifted my chin until his too handsome face was mere inches from mine. Lips of sin formed words. “Best put revenge from your mind, then, this instant.” His finger pulled a line across my jaw, his expression going from devilish to steady. “Otherwise you won’t step foot through that door.”
Anger rose, the promise of the dark offer ripped away. My tongue strained to let the anger loose. I swallowed it down with difficulty.
The edges of his mouth curled—a devil playing my emotions, making it doubly hard to keep silent.
He rose and removed a loaf of bread from the oven. The smell of rosemary and dill wafted through the air. He cut two pieces and slathered a dollop of butter on each.
He placed one slice in front of me and rearranged himself back in his chair, tilting back on the hind legs.
“You will become used to it, Marietta,” he said, voice deep and melodic.
I looked up from the hot, buttered bread to his eyes. “Used to what?”
“Listening to me.”
I gently pulled the bread apart. “I doubt I will get used to any such thing.” The soft center touched my tongue, and I held down a moan. I spared a thought for Rosaire, a true genius in the kitchen.
“Everyone does, sooner or later. Much easier for you to embrace it now.” Noble balanced on the wood legs and tapped a finger.
I took another delicious bite. “You are insufferable.”
“And you are nothing short of a delight.”
I didn’t need to hear the mocking to know the fallacy of that statement. A prime sentiment in my household as well, if last night was anything to go by.
“How long have you been taking care of your brothers?”
A crumb fell to the table and I made a production of clearing it away. The topic change wasn’t as easy to dismiss. “I don’t know of what you speak.”
“Your servants, old and new, were quite forthcoming. As were reports from your creditors.”
How had he gotten his hands on those already? There was little I could do to cover up any type of report or gossip without a penny to my name. I wondered if Noble had conversed with Sable again.
My fingers dug into the sides of another piece of bread. “Everything is under control.”
“Yes, your brother Ferris seems to have things in fine control.” He rocked his chair farther back.
I hoped he tipped. “Ferris has had a tough time since our parents died.”
And wasn’t that statement the turnabout of the season? I’d been saying the same as Noble, in much the same sarcastic tone, but it was different when someone else was attacking my brother.
The front legs of his chair hit the wood floor. “I don’t see you breaking down and drinking yourself into a stupor.” His voice was mild as he lifted a slice.
“I don’t have the same pressures as Ferris.”
Something inside me sobbed at the injustice—one I was placing upon myself. I had the exact same pressures. In fact, sometimes I thought mine were worse, because as a member of the family not yet at the age of majority I could do nothing about any of it directly. Powerless.
I straightened my shoulders. I would not be powerless.
He eyed me, then finished the buttery slice. “Mmm. You don’t have the same pressures. I see. That’s good to know.”
I nodded tightly, irritated with him and myself.
He watched me for a moment, then cut two more pieces, buttered them and plunked one in front of me and took the other in hand.
“Archibald Penner is a regular pub rat, from what I can tell. And a part-time watchman. Involved in businesses on the east side catered to the working classes. Mainly dress shops, of all things. Vivienne may have gossip concerning him.”
I wondered if he procured information from Vivienne in the same manner as from Sable.
As if on cue, a woman with fuzzy brown hair and kind brown eyes fell through the door, arms full of cloth.
“Master Noble! I came as quickly as I could.”
“It’s not a problem, Vivienne.” His voice was richer and warmer than when he addressed me. He rose to relieve her of her burden.
She thanked him, then bobbed her head at me. “Good morning.”
I murmured a greeting as Noble made the introductions. Vivienne’s face was friendly and open as she made morning chitchat with Noble, but there was still a rather apparent look of worship in her eyes. Excellent. Another smitten female.
With Sable, Noble had maintained a removed look, all the more inviting to a woman who thrived on challenge. For Vivienne, he had nothing but friendly smiles.
They transformed his face. Without guile, without sarcasm, his expression opened. I swallowed with difficulty and turned away.
“Are you familiar with an Archibald Penner?” he asked her.
“Mostly pleasant. Likes the shopgirls, but he’s not a bully. Likes his drink, but doesn’t have a reputation as a ruffian. Run the giggle gambit. Get a girl to titter and simper at him, and he’ll tell you anything.”
“Invaluable as always, Vivienne.”
Rose stained the girl’s cheeks. I stuffed the rest of my bread in my mouth.
“What do you need today, Master Noble?”
“A few garments for Lady Winters. One for the gambit.”
Vivienne bobbed her head. “Shopgirl gear, and what else?”
“Magister’s assistant. Maybe something that shows a bit of skin around the collar. Midtown tavern dress. East End as well.”
“Will do. If the lady will allow?” She looked at me, all guileless eyes.
We left Noble in the kitchen.
Vivienne got to work as soon as we entered my room. So did I.
“You work with Master Noble often?”
She nodded and fastened a pin. “Is this your first time? I haven’t seen you before.”
“It is.”
Vivienne nodded easily again, as if there was nothing unusual about any of this.
“Well, these garments should work for any later tasks, too, so long as you don’t gain weight that magic can’t hide.
Not that you couldn’t stand to add a stone or two.
” She looked at me critically and I bit my tongue.
“But you are tall. More places for the weight to be distributed when you do,” she finished in a cheerful manner.
“Master Noble likes his victims with a little more flesh, I gather.”
A belligerent expression descended, like Rosaire’s, but then smoothed. “This is your first task. You’ll change your tune as soon as Master Noble has solved your problem. Everyone does, whether they want to or not.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That is not what I am taken to understand. I have been told there is some uncertainty about his intentions. That he is not to be crossed.”
“He isn’t.” The girl gave me a serious look. “You’d do well to heed what he tells you to do. He can be difficult, but he is infinitely fair. He will do right by you.”
Right by me. As if any other man had done so, I was supposed to trust completely that this one would. A man who had twenty different smiles, one to entice each woman—who exuded sex and desire and knew exactly how to use it to his advantage.
And yet, here I was.
“How many women have you dressed like this, Vivienne?”
“A fair few,” she said, a bit cagily.
Wonderful. A stream of women had probably trailed through his bedroom doors like an unending Solstice procession.
“And the men?” I assumed there were a few on his client list since I had been referred by one. “Do they also get costumed?”
“Oh, yes. My brother is an excellent tailor. Family business. Master Noble helped us a few years back. And he pays extremely well, of course.”
That answered two of my questions.
Vivienne talked more about the family business and Noble’s wonderful, magnificent, perfect presence as she pinned, sewed, and bound with a magical ease I envied.
I watched her carefully, committing her movements to memory.
It was getting on noon before she finished, but I had two perfectly serviceable servant’s garments, a shopgirl’s outfit, and two dresses that would provoke a society matron to fits.
All either fit perfectly or were magically pinned in a crafty way to look tailored already. Smart girl, Vivienne.
I followed her back to the kitchen.
“All done?” Noble was still sitting at the table, papers spread around him, a small sea of ink-stained linen and parchment. Three enchanted quills furiously scribbled notes. I marveled at the simultaneous charms.