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tale, I assure you,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
    He arched a brow. “Would you like me to send Runners to investigate you instead?”
    Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t do that.”
    “If I wanted to know something badly enough, I would,” he said with a shrug that belied the importance of the topic. “And I find myself wanting to know the woman behind the mask you wear. I think I’d rather know from your lips than from the lips of a man with bad breath, a gut and no teeth.”
    Olivia drew back. “What kind of Runners are you employing?”
    “Apparently disgusting ones.” He laughed. “Please tell me. I promise you it will remain between us.”
    She stared at him. It was the please he had added that stopped her in her tracks. Very few men ever used that word with her. And here he was, waiting patiently, truly seeming to want to know her origins. For the first time in her life, she wanted to tell the story. To be true, real, with another person.
    But it was a terrible risk.
    “How do I know you won’t use whatever I tell you against me?” she whispered, holding his gaze evenly. “Or against my friend?”
    He leaned back. “Right now, I don’t give a damn about Violet Milford,” he said. “Unless you tell me she has somehow forced you to do something you didn’t want to do.”
    “Of course not,” Olivia said with a shake of her head. “In fact, I’m the one who brought Violet into this world, not the other way around.”
    His eyes widened with surprise, an emotion she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to see. Most people saw her as glib and in control. If he thought her so passive, would he respect her?
    “Then how did you become a courtesan yourself, if not led here by a friend like Violet?” he pressed.
    She cleared her throat. “I was born to a very low family,” she admitted, heat filling her cheeks. “Very low, Malcolm.”
    He did not move or show any hint of his reaction.
    “I was not educated, I was barely cared for at all, for my mother lived in a bottle and my father preferred the slap of his belt to conversation with his children. I had to get away, run away, or I knew I would end up no better.”
    He flinched. “That must have been painful for you.”
    She shrugged. “I knew no better; I had no comparison point. I suppose now, having seen people who love their children…” She trailed off, thinking of Violet and the son she adored but was forced to keep as a secret from the world. “But at the time, my circumstances caused me no pain, only fear that I would be caught and punished if I failed in my escape.”
    “When did you leave?” he asked, his fingers stroking hers on the tabletop, a soothing, simple gesture that meant a great deal.
    “I was seventeen,” she admitted. “I slipped away with a pocket full of money I stole and no plans. And I staggered, quite luckily, into a hell where I met my first protector.”
    Mal’s jaw tightened. “The one who hurt you?”
    “No. Quite the opposite,” she reassured him.
    His face remained tense. “Was he titled?”
    “No, but a gentleman,” she said. “Lower quality, but high enough that he was far above my station. And yet, he didn’t care. In fact, he seemed to see me as a project. He told a maid to teach me to read and let me have books. And he told me to rid myself of my accent so that I wouldn’t be seen as low and stupid.”
    Mal was still staring at her, his expression totally unreadable. “I cannot imagine, Olivia, that you have ever been either low or stupid, no matter how young or inexperienced or uneducated you were.”
    She stared at him. She had been with a handful of men over the seven years she had been a courtesan. None had ever said anything like that to her. None had really ever seen anything about her beyond her body.
    “Yur kind t’say so, guv,” she said softly, allowing her hateful accent to come through fully. She had never revealed it on purpose before and now it sounded like