Read Online A Gift for Guile (The Thief-takers) by Alissa Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Alissa Johnson
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She gave a small huff of defeat when he failed to laugh. “It isn’t unreasonably dangerous. We have already determined that the man does not wish to do me immediate harm.”
No, she had theorized. Anything could be theorized. “He may have refrained from confronting you on the street because he is aware of your particular talents with knives. He has friends, evidently. He might have thought it wise to have them along when he approached you.”
“He was alone at the station.”
“As far as we know.”
“And as far as he’ll know, I will be alone next Wednesday as well. You will be…” She turned to him and her bonneted head bobbed up, then down as she looked him over. “Well, I don’t suppose you blend very well. You’ll have to hide.”
He bloody well wasn’t going to hide while she faced an unknown danger, but there didn’t seem to be any point in arguing the matter at present. Esther was determined in her plan. It would be easier if he let her scheme today and simply find the man himself before Wednesday. “We’ll leave the meeting at Paddington station as an option for now.”
She tucked her parasol under her arm and rubbed her hands together with glee. “Wonderful.”
He stared at her, appalled. “Are you… enjoying this?”
“Of course not.” She glanced down at her hands. “Perhaps a little.”
“Esther, you are in danger.”
“As you very often are,” she returned. “Do you mean to tell me you don’t enjoy the occasional spot of danger?”
“It’s different,” he said and wondered if she was as tired of hearing that as he was of saying it.
She cocked her head at him. “Do you think because I am a woman, I don’t wish for adventure? For something more than a quiet life of reading and needlepoint?”
“No.”
“Do you think I shouldn’t?”
He thought it best not to comment. He had no philosophical objections to a woman pursuing a life of adventure, or even danger. In theory. He just didn’t want to encourage Esther specifically.
“Well, I do want more,” Esther continued, her enthusiasm building as they resumed their walk down the street. “I want excitement. I want to outwit that young man. I want to explore London and travel the world. I want to go to lectures and museums, shops and theaters. I want to see the Louvre and ride an elephant in India. I want a challenge. I want purpose, something more than mere survival.”
All things that had been denied her. And would always be denied her. He couldn’t imagine what that was like, to yearn for the world and be given an isolated cottage in Derbyshire instead. Even if he retired to a life in the country, he’d never be trapped as she was. He could hop on the rail on a whim and be back in the swirl and excitement of London in a matter of hours.
Perhaps that was why she had worked for her father—because it had been her only opportunity for excitement, her only chance to have a sense of purpose.
“Do you miss working with William?” he asked and immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Just like that, her shoulders slumped, all the lively enthusiasm drained out of her.
“No.” She tapped the tip of her parasol absently against the curb as they walked along. “That wasn’t exciting.”
“What was it?”
He didn’t expect her to answer and was surprised when she shrugged and said, rather quietly, “Pitiful.”
He stared at the top of her dark bonnet. “You are a great many things, Esther. Pitiful is not one of them.”
“Not now.” She stopped again, a few feet from the back of the carriage, and looked up at him. “Haven’t you ever done something you’re not proud of, Samuel?”
“I’m not proud of being a hard man.”
“You’re not—” She broke off and shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Are you trying to be a better man?”
“Yes.”
She nodded firmly once as if to say There you are .
He wasn’t entirely clear on what that meant, but he wasn’t given the chance to ask.
A
No, she had theorized. Anything could be theorized. “He may have refrained from confronting you on the street because he is aware of your particular talents with knives. He has friends, evidently. He might have thought it wise to have them along when he approached you.”
“He was alone at the station.”
“As far as we know.”
“And as far as he’ll know, I will be alone next Wednesday as well. You will be…” She turned to him and her bonneted head bobbed up, then down as she looked him over. “Well, I don’t suppose you blend very well. You’ll have to hide.”
He bloody well wasn’t going to hide while she faced an unknown danger, but there didn’t seem to be any point in arguing the matter at present. Esther was determined in her plan. It would be easier if he let her scheme today and simply find the man himself before Wednesday. “We’ll leave the meeting at Paddington station as an option for now.”
She tucked her parasol under her arm and rubbed her hands together with glee. “Wonderful.”
He stared at her, appalled. “Are you… enjoying this?”
“Of course not.” She glanced down at her hands. “Perhaps a little.”
“Esther, you are in danger.”
“As you very often are,” she returned. “Do you mean to tell me you don’t enjoy the occasional spot of danger?”
“It’s different,” he said and wondered if she was as tired of hearing that as he was of saying it.
She cocked her head at him. “Do you think because I am a woman, I don’t wish for adventure? For something more than a quiet life of reading and needlepoint?”
“No.”
“Do you think I shouldn’t?”
He thought it best not to comment. He had no philosophical objections to a woman pursuing a life of adventure, or even danger. In theory. He just didn’t want to encourage Esther specifically.
“Well, I do want more,” Esther continued, her enthusiasm building as they resumed their walk down the street. “I want excitement. I want to outwit that young man. I want to explore London and travel the world. I want to go to lectures and museums, shops and theaters. I want to see the Louvre and ride an elephant in India. I want a challenge. I want purpose, something more than mere survival.”
All things that had been denied her. And would always be denied her. He couldn’t imagine what that was like, to yearn for the world and be given an isolated cottage in Derbyshire instead. Even if he retired to a life in the country, he’d never be trapped as she was. He could hop on the rail on a whim and be back in the swirl and excitement of London in a matter of hours.
Perhaps that was why she had worked for her father—because it had been her only opportunity for excitement, her only chance to have a sense of purpose.
“Do you miss working with William?” he asked and immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Just like that, her shoulders slumped, all the lively enthusiasm drained out of her.
“No.” She tapped the tip of her parasol absently against the curb as they walked along. “That wasn’t exciting.”
“What was it?”
He didn’t expect her to answer and was surprised when she shrugged and said, rather quietly, “Pitiful.”
He stared at the top of her dark bonnet. “You are a great many things, Esther. Pitiful is not one of them.”
“Not now.” She stopped again, a few feet from the back of the carriage, and looked up at him. “Haven’t you ever done something you’re not proud of, Samuel?”
“I’m not proud of being a hard man.”
“You’re not—” She broke off and shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Are you trying to be a better man?”
“Yes.”
She nodded firmly once as if to say There you are .
He wasn’t entirely clear on what that meant, but he wasn’t given the chance to ask.
A
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