Page 44 of The Swindler’s Daughter

“What what’s about?”

“You asking me these questions.”

My brow furrowed. “I don’t follow.”

“You want to see who I really am. Hence the questions.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but…yes, I suppose you’re right. After I found out about Isabel, I certainly saw you in a different light. I felt I knew you better after you told me a bit about her.” I gave a little shrug. “She’s a part of you.”

“And who is a part of you? Besides Hunter, of course.” He smiled as he said it and it was clear that he understood.

“He took care of me for a long time,” I said as I divided the dough into loaves.

“And your parents?” he asked carefully. “Are they a part of you?”

I swallowed, dreading this subject but wanting him to know. “Yes. My mother is a part of me. She’s the bright red of my hair and the green of my eyes. I have no memory of her, but my father let me know that she’d given me those traits. And yes, my father is a part of me as well. He taught me to pick pockets. And then he shattered my trust,” I said with a sad bob of my head. “And Hunter was the one who repaired it.”

His face twisted in pain and confusion, no doubt remembering the darkness I referred to. “What makes people that way?” he asked. “What would make a father so willing to hurt and betray his daughter? I don’t understand it. I don’t understand that kind of greed. I don’t.”

I smiled softly. “And that is one of the things I appreciate about you. You have a good heart, Rowan.”

I lapsed back into silence, and after a moment, he stood and lifted his hand to push my braid behind my shoulder. I froze, wondering what he would do next. But he just smiled and stood straight. “I have traps to set,” he said in resignation. “Thank you for letting me visit you.”

“You’re welcome here anytime,” I said, and I meant it. Having him here, in this place where I was comfortable and at ease, had been wonderful, profound even. Despite the ache I felt for more, it was good to know that we could still be friends, still confide in one another.

As I watched him go, I thought of the stories we’d told each other and I had to wonder, if I hadn’t had Hunter, would I have ended up much like Isabel? Desperate for love but determined to push it away, lest it be snatched from my fingers?

***

I always enjoyed sitting down with Hunter and Emeline for our evening meal. It left me feeling more grounded when I could participate in the routine. Tonight was a little different though. As I speared a bite of rabbit and put it in my mouth, I couldn’t help but notice the empty chair beside me, and the vacancy left me discontent. I wanted Rowan to be here. I wanted to trust that he had a desire to be here as well. I wanted more of the connection we’d shared over past hurts and our brave future, more of the comfort we’d found yesterday in the simplicity of just standing in this kitchen. I wanted more of him. I shouldn’t, but I did.

“That was wonderful, Emeline,” I said as I stood. “You always know how to season a rabbit just right.”

“Yes. We’re lucky to have quality meat aplenty here. In fact,” she said with a lift of her voice, “I’ve heard stories of villagers finding fresh meat at their door when they go out in the morning.”

I paused for just a moment. “Really?” I set my plate and utensils in the washbasin.

“Yes. It seems someone has taken it upon themselves to feed those who are less fortunate.” I thought I might have heard a note of pride in her voice.

“Those families are likely being hurt by the magistrate and his constables,” I pointed out, unable to resist reminding my brother that there were problems he was ignoring and burdens I longed to ease.

“I’m grateful someone is looking out for those in need. But I have to wonder, where do you suppose they get the meat?” Hunter asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Does it matter? Hungry people are being fed.”

“I think it does,” he answered. “When animals are disappearing from the duke’s land and then showing up on the villagers’ doorsteps, it matters. If the meat being left for them is actually stolen, then whoever is attempting to help these people is actually making them complicit in their crimes.”

“Crimes that Mr. Kenton has yet to report,” I pointed out. “Crimes that the lawmen don’t care about. It’s not as if Magistrate Reeve is going to take one look at a dead pheasant and say, ‘See there, that’s from the duke’s land.’”

“Whether they can be caught and punished or not, it’s still poaching. It’s still against the law.”

I just shrugged, picked up the basin of dirty dishes and took it outside.

He followed after me. “What about what Johnny and the others are doing in the village?”

I froze, surprised that he knew who to blame. It took me a moment to remind my body that I needed to turn and face him.

When I did, he looked sad and disappointed. “I’m not a fool, Miri. With the princess and Sir James gone, there’s less work; everyone is taking it easy or working on projects they never had time for before. But Johnny? Rowan? Oliver? I see them running off to the village on market days and they don’t come back with anything.” He spread his arms out. “I see them talking, I hear the way they shush each other when I come too close. And your face right now tells me that I’m right.”