We had no garden, he said. The saddlery shared a common yard with a potter and a chandler, and we lived behind the shop. The yard was just that, a square of dirt. It smelled of wax, clay, and leather.
Thats where you played?
He snorted. No play. From the time I
could hold a pair of shears, I helped my da. Schooling first, then work. Da wanted to be sure I knew my letters. He didnt, not until he reached four and forty.
Leo had never spoken of this to anyone, not even Edmund or Whit. They knew many aspects of his low birth, but never such intimate details, and it surprised Leo that he talked so openly to Anne now. The false affinity created by darkness.
As if sensing this, a cloud over the moon abruptly shifted and icy light spilled into the garden, washing away the intimate dark. In the light, he felt exposed, the distance between him and his wife all too evident. Moonlight drove them apart, for now he had nowhere to hide.
He cursed himself for being so unguarded. Surely shed mock him for being the son of an illiterate. He readied for her cutting words, telling himself that he didnt care what she thought of his humble blood.
Your father must have taught himself, she said instead.
Leos steps slowed a little, surprised by her response. He did. Sat at the kitchen table with a hornbook, struggling to sound out the Lords Prayer.
With such a determined son, I expect no less from the father. Esteem warmed her voice.
Leo felt as though hed taken a punch to the chest. To steady himself, he took a drink of wine. He had expected bafflement from her, or outright disdain. But not this ... admiration. Especially not in the clarity of a barren, moonlight-blasted garden. Yet she saw him fully, and liked what she saw.
No one more determined than Adam Bailey, he said after a moment. Was as determined. Leos father had died as he lived: working. Always wanting more. A trait shared by his only living son.
Leo had advantages his father did not. More wealth, a greater understanding of the exigencies of business. And magic, given to him by the Devil.
Leo would use his every power to seize whatever he wanted.
As if frustrated by the growing bond between him and Anne, clouds slid across the face of the moon, blotting out its light. The garden sank back into darkness.
Fifteen shillings a week. Thats what he made. The same amount Leo carried in his pocket wherever he went. Hardly more than subsistence.
Something altered your circumstances.
A rich mans fancy. The irony hardly escaped him.
He gave my father a commission. A bloody big commission that meant pulling me from school so I could help complete it in time. The man wanted a dozen racing saddles. And he wanted them within a month. So we made the damned things, my father, my mother, and me. I was ten at the time. We had to hire the coffin-builders wagon to make the delivery. Sometimes he woke from dreams to find his fingers holding a phantom awl.
The man must have been quite fond of horseflesh, Anne murmured.
He owned two horses only, to pull his carriage. Said that hed been thinking about taking up racing, and wanted to be prepared, should he ever indulge the whim.
Annes laugh was wry. No wonder you think all noblemen are fools.
He stopped and faced her. I never said that.
Those words specifically? No. Some light escaped the house, tracing the line of her cheek and curve of her ear as she stared up at him. Her gaze was alert, unblinking. Yet its there, just the same. Your opinion of the upper classes is ... low.
They havent given me much cause to believe otherwise. Memories of university lacerated him. He still heard the taunts of the noblemen and gentlemen commoners, how theyd called him scum and upstart vulgarian and emptied their chamber pots onto his bed when he was out attending the classes they disdained. The burning shame of those days still charred him around the edges.
He had returned home after one term, swearing never to go back. After that, he had worked beside his father once more, only by then work meant not the saddlery but Exchange Alley.
She dropped her gaze, yet only slightly, before looking up again. So, those of noble birth are all the same person wearing different masks?
Her voice held a bite, faint, but there, and he respected her for it.
There are ... exceptions.
And I am indeed grateful you made an exception for me. She moved away from him. I find myself chilled. Ill return inside.
He caught her wrist as she turned, and drew her back. Neither of us is who others suppose us to be.
She gave this consideration, which was more than he had given her. These past few days have been educational.
For both of us. He still believed most aristos to be spoiled buffoons, but he was sage enough to admit when there was something to learn. Mostly, he was learning the intricacies of his wife. Stay out here with me. Please, he remembered
to add.
Her wrist slid from his grasp, and for a moment, he thought she would storm back into the house. Instead, she looked pointedly at his arm, which he offered. She accepted, and they resumed their stroll, with the sounds of crunching shells beneath their feet and the distant tolling of Saint Georges bell marking the hour.