Page 61 of The Gentlewoman Apprentice

“I wish I could, but I am worried about your sister.”

“She is furious. I saw her turn that color one other time, and it did not go well for me.”

“Oh?”

“I hid beneath the bed and fell asleep. She thought I was lost forever, wouldn’t let me out of her sight for a week.”

“You probably shouldn’t tell me why she is angry, I suppose?”

From the floor, Samuel rested his head on the bed and looked up at Peter, measuring. “The money is gone. She thought Miss Matilde took it to return home, but I think it was Grace.”

Samuel stated a figure down to the halfpenny, and Peter nearly choked. How did she have such a sum? Little wonder she had gone after the thief in such a panic.

“I should like to return another day and take a look at your soldiers. French and English, are they? I know a thing or two about war stratagem.”

Samuel looked up. “Do you?”

“I have my own set—not so fine as yours, but they do the job.” Peter hesitated a moment before sitting down on the floor across from the boy. “Tell me about the conflict here.”

Samuel launched into an elaborate story that included piracy, a tavern skirmish, and the rise of an orphan boy, his east London accent making an appearance as he spoke.

“Do you have any marbles?” Peter asked. “We might use them as ammunition in the battle.”

Samuel pulled an emerald velvet bag from under his bed. They divided marbles, established rules, and began to play. Samuel flicked from the palm of his hand, attacking Peter’s cavalry with swift cruelty, while his own bowmen fell by threes.

“What are you doing?” Miss Cooper stood in the doorway.

Peter scrambled to his feet. “I came looking for you but became distracted.”

Samuel rushed to embrace Miss Cooper. She went to her knees before him, pulled him to her lap, kissed his forehead. With a hand on his cheek, she asked after his health. Clever and capable were words for Margaret Cooper in the workshop, where she scanned each room for inefficiencies and spoke in clipped tones. With Samuel, her militant shoulders softened, her reserve forsaken for tenderness.

Conscious of the intimacy he observed, Peter glanced down at the mess of marbles and soldiers.

“I see there has been a battle.” An almost-smile quirked the corner of her mouth.

Her quiet amusement buoyed him, a gentle lift that settled his insides.

“What a day I’ve had. Thank you for staying with Samuel, Mr. Sloan.” Her hands clenched her skirts.

He wanted to ask where she’d been, but Miss Cooper had become formal. She did not know the degree of their acquaintance.

“I’m afraid I shall not return to Sloan’s today,” she said.

“Oh?” He stared a beat too long, but her frown urged him to draw her into his arms.

She unraveled her hands from her skirt. “Well, then.”

Peter addressed Samuel. “You conquered me today, young man.” He clicked his heels together and saluted.

Samuel eyed Miss Cooper as if determining whether to risk asking Peter to stay. The boy returned the salute. “You proved a formidable opponent, sir.”

“I shall see you another day, then.” Peter nodded and slipped past them.

“Miss Reed will keep your house, as Miss Henton is gone,” Miss Cooper said to his back.

Peter turned. “That is generous. I will arrange things with her.” His mind faltered for a moment, then, “Might I enquire where Miss Henton is?”

Her gaze flitted to the wall beside him. “She’s gone. Left without a word.” She closed her eyes for a beat, then seemed to rally. “I must go to London, see if I can find her. I won’t be gone a week.”