Authors: Ashley March
A lex opened the door to the factory, then waited for her to step inside. “You’re supposed to be my sister,” he said behind her. “Try not to act so hostile.”
“I’m fairly certain Jo would act even worse,” she retorted, smiling at the women and girls who glanced quickly away from their stations as they walked past.
He caught up beside her. “Perhaps, but MacFadden has met Jo. He hasn’t met Kat, and Kat is much more amiable. Kat adores me.”
Willa looked up.
He shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Kat tolerates you better than most, Mr. Laurie. Besides, I’m too old to be Kat.
Perhaps we can pretend I’m another older sister they never met.”
“Impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “You clearly look too young to be my older sister. In fact, you look closer to Kat in age than you do to Jo. You’re beautiful. No wrinkles, no bitter skepticism showing in your eyes, no blemishes on your skin.”
Willa peered at him. She was usually quite good at reading him, but she couldn’t tell now if he was flirting with her or if he’d actually misunderstood. “Not your older sister, Mr. Laurie. A sister who’s older than Kat. I wouldn’t need to be older than you are. I could still be six and twenty.”
“A h.” He’d misunderstood. “Very well, then. But you should still act nice toward
“A h.” He’d misunderstood. “Very well, then. But you should still act nice toward me. Pretend you are Jo on a very, very good day.”
He’d misunderstood, and still he’d called her beautiful. Willa lifted her face without wrinkles, blemishes, or bitter skepticism and presented him with a bright, sunny smile. “Does Jo ever have a very, very good day? I must admit to being quite impressed with only her good days. A lthough I’m certain she acts much better around me than she does around you.”
A lex chuckled and came to a halt, his hand grasping her elbow again and turning her to the right.
“The door in front of you. It’s through there.”
A few minutes later, after they strode across the wide expanse of the open factory, where women and girls—some appeared as old as sixty or as young as twelve—sorted through the fabric spit out on the belts, Willa pushed through the far door he’d indicated.
A thick, pungent odor immediately assaulted her nostrils. Willa took a deep breath, a sense of peace for the first time since she’d come to England filling her.
This she knew; with this she felt at home. The chemicals, the colors, the vats of boiling water.
Dye.
She could have stayed in this particular room for hours, strolling around each station and studying the processes of MacFadden’s workers. She could have observed what they did differently, how their stations were set up compared to those of her father’s workers. She could have reported back to him—
“This way, dear sister.” A lex blocked her vision. He didn’t touch her, but stood before her and angled his body toward the left, where he wanted her to go.
Willa turned toward the left, then followed him a short distance. Finally, they’d arrived at the stations testing his nonsaturation process.
A lex chatted and smiled with the women working there, charming them in less time than it took him to pick up a piece of dyed cloth and turn around to hand it to Willa. “Look at this,” he said. “What do you see that’s different?” She held the cloth—a dark blue wool—and turned it over in her hands.
“Nothing. I don’t see a difference from what it would usually look like.” He grinned at her. “Precisely. Thus far that is the achievement I’m proudest of.
It’s taken at least six months to figure out how add the glaze so thinly it wouldn’t leave any residue or crystals behind.”
“A re you only testing wool now?” she asked, glancing down the line. She noticed that the women watched her more closely than they did before, the young girls staring at her day dress and the others—the ones old enough to understand A lex’s flirtation—sending her little daggers with their eyes when they thought she didn’t see. She repeated herself loudly. “A re you only testing wool now, brother?” Though his profile was now to her, she saw the twitch of his lips before he turned back with a new cloth in his hands. This one was purple and shimmered even in the dull light.
“Here you are, sister. Satin. The very first time I’ve seen the product after it’s
“Here you are, sister. Satin. The very first time I’ve seen the product after it’s been tested.”
Willa studied the cloth, rubbed it between her fingertips. A lex had insisted she wear gloves before they left the inn, had said she needed to appear like a lady.
A fter hearing him speak of MacFadden and after meeting the manager, she now knew why. She started to roll her glove from her elbow, but he stayed her with a hand on her arm.
“No need to do that. It doesn’t work yet.”
When their eyes met he frowned and immediately removed his hand, as if he thought she wished him to do so but couldn’t in front of the other women. This time, however, she hadn’t tensed. She hadn’t noticed. A nd now that he’d removed his touch from her without her request, like the contrary creature she was she wished it was there again, his fingers warm even through the glove.
Willa gave the satin back to him. “Why doesn’t it work? It looks clean, and if it’s run through your glaze, or whatever you call it—”
He shrugged and turned away to hand both the wool and the satin to one of the women workers. “I don’t know.” He lifted his other hand and showed her the blue and purple stains on his fingers. “I’ll figure it out soon enough.” His eyes lit with frustration, but still he smiled again. A lways smiling, no matter how he truly felt. Just like she did. They were both charmers, she and A lex.
Smiling and charming the world, one person at a time. She wondered if he ever tired of it, too. Or, if they both laid down their facades for one day, what they would each find behind the smiles of the other.
“Thank you, ladies,” he said, bowing to the workers. They smiled and nodded—
some giggled and curtsied back—and then he gestured for Willa to precede him out of the factory. “Come, sister, I believe it’s well past noon and time to eat, and I’d very much like to try the mutton pie at the Boar’s Head.” Though the Boar’s Head inn was only a short distance away from the Three Crowns on the opposite side of the small village of A bysmount, the structure was far less hospitable and welcoming. A nd much more disgusting. The owner snatched a toothpick out of his mouth, then inserted it into a piece of mutton pie to see if it was done.
“Er, thank you,” A lex said, then carefully cut around the center of the pie with his fork and moved the acceptable pieces to one side.
He glanced at Willa, who just sat gaping at her piece, so he reached over and did the same for her pie, too. A lex smiled at the keeper, chef, and owner of the face which in fact resembled a boar’s head—a remarkable resemblance. Helped one to remember the inn, too. “I’m sure it’s delicious,” he said, and ate his first bite.
When Willa only stared at him, he gestured with his fork for her to eat, then turned his gaze back to the innkeeper. Merriman, the man’s name was—though at least in this there appeared no correlation between his name and his nature. That would simply have been cruel.
would simply have been cruel.
No, he was a mean, ugly, boar’s head of a man, and A lex ate another piece of pie to show him how much he liked it before speaking again. “Mmm. A better piece of mutton pie I’ve yet to taste. Don’t you agree, A lexandra?” She’d insisted that they be twins on the return to the village. Even though he’d pointed out that her fair coloring contrasted with his dark coloring to such a degree that everyone would question it. Still, her newly assumed role seemed to make her happy.
A lexandra née Willa agreed, nodding as she ate another forkful. Her eyes told him she felt differently. Perhaps he should have scooped her toothpick piece onto his plate.
The innkeeper stared down at them. He didn’t polish the counter with his apron
—of course, the state of the counter beneath their plates attested to the fact that this wasn’t surprising. He didn’t answer to another visitor’s request for an ale. He didn’t fawn over them because Willa wore the dress of a lady and A lex had changed into a fresh set of clothes before going to the mill this morning. He just stared down at them. “Glowered” might have been a better description.
Next to A lex, Willa cleared her throat delicately, then tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes at Merriman.
That seemed to get his attention, the biased bastard. Not that A lex had ever tried to flutter his eyelashes, but he was fairly certain that even if he could achieve the exact same eyelash-fluttering frequency, it still wouldn’t have resulted in the same effect Willa seemed to have on the man.
Tipping his mug of ale back, A lex drank and watched the mistress of charm flaunt her assets. He also drew his legs up close to his chair, prepared to reach down for the knife tucked in his boot in case he needed to protect those assets.
“Mr. Merriman,” she began, stretching forward and leaning until the surface of the table pushed her breasts up to mouthwatering proportions. She touched the innkeeper’s arm—a light fluttering of a touch as quick and harmless as her eyelashes, no more substantial than the brush of a hummingbird’s wings. The innkeeper’s posture shifted, becoming taller and broader as he brought his legs together from his wide stance, straightened his spine, then squared his shoulders.
Oh, she was good. Very good.
A lex took another drink and let his other hand rest on his thigh, closer to his knife.
She and Mr. Boar’s Head Merriman had some sort of connection. They stared at each other, a little smile tucked into the corners of her mouth while the fist-sized indent centered in his chin softened to the size of a shilling.
She extended her gloved hand, palm down, like a lady’s. “Miss A lexandra Laurie.”
The innkeeper stared at the hand, his mouth parted, then shook his head.
“Thank you, Miss Laurie, but I wouldn’t want to sully your gloves with these big old washbasins here.” He tucked his own hands—and the polishing apron, unfortunately—out of sight behind the counter.
unfortunately—out of sight behind the counter.
“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you all the same, Mr. Merriman. I must confess I’ve never liked mutton pie much before now, but you have a special recipe, don’t you?”
A lex smiled into his mug. Yes, it’s called saliva on a stick.
Her foot kicked his shin beneath the table. He jerked his gaze toward hers, saw her eyes cut back to Merriman’s as she smiled. A lex set his ale down and picked up another forkful. “I agree, Mr. Merriman. A lthough I would never tell my mother. I’m sure you understand, don’t you?” A lex winked.
Merriman beady little boar’s eyes twitched. “I’m sure I don’t, Mr. Laurie, as I don’t have a mother anymore to tell.”
Damn.
Willa kicked him again.
Very well. He’d just leave the talking to her and nod or shake his head as needed.
She reached forward to touch Merriman’s arm again—this time, for twice as long. A lex’s eyes narrowed. “How terrible. Mr. Merriman, I’m so sorry. We’re both sorry, aren’t we, A lex?”
A lex nodded.
“I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it, but you must know—” The innkeeper placed his hand over hers. His big washbasin of a hand that swallowed up hers and half her forearm as well. A lex’s fingers twitched for his knife.
“She was a good woman, Miss Laurie. A truly good woman.” Willa nodded. For good measure’s sake, A lex did, too.
“Would you like to hear about her?”
“Oh, only if you have time, Mr. Merriman. I don’t want to disrupt your business.”
Merriman swung his heavy jowls toward the other customers in the inn, scowling. Those watching the exchange between Beauty and the Boar’s Head flinched and stared down at their tables. “I have time.” Trundling around the bar, the innkeeper pulled out a stool and sat down beside her with a groan. “A s I was saying, Miss Laurie, my mother was a good woman, one of the finest women I’ve ever known—present company included, of course.”
Willa smiled shyly and twisted her back away from A lex, setting her chin on her folded hands. “I wish I’d had the chance to meet her.”
A lex gave an inward sigh, ate the rest of his mutton pie, then reached over for Willa’s plate.
Four and a half hours later, A lex and Willa strolled side by side back to the Three Crowns on the opposite side of the village. Her pace was much livelier than his.
A lex was tempted to fall facedown in the dirt and sleep.
“You shouldn’t have dismissed the carriage,” she told him, her eyes sparkling a brighter blue than the sky above her head.
brighter blue than the sky above her head.
He waved his hand with a flourish, bowing slightly at the waist. “I suppose you’re right. But I thought that at least the coachman and groom could enjoy the rest of the day and I could live vicariously through them. Four hours, Willa. No, nearly five hours, Willa.”
He’d surreptitiously checked his pocket watch every time Willa had leaned forward and asked the innkeeper to tell her more. The first hour he’d listened to Merriman recount the number of times his mother had taken care of the blind, lame, sick, and poor until A lex started picturing her as a resurrected female Jesus ingrained into the table’s scarred wooden surface. A fter the second hour, he tested to see whether his legs would still work and went outside to dismiss the carriage. A fter the third hour, A lex had given up and hung his head over his empty mug of ale—because Merriman couldn’t be troubled to fill it again, oh no—
and contemplated the meaning of life as well as the ways in which a man could undress a woman from the back without her realizing it.
He couldn’t remember what he’d done or thought after that. He was pretty sure he’d found some sort of alternate plane of existence where one’s body could remain in an inn, one’s head nodding and shaking on command, while one’s soul drifted in limbo, called back only by the gentle then forceful nudging of a beautiful woman’s hand on one’s shoulder.
“He might have killed you, you know,” she said after a minute. “He didn’t like you very much.”