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“Two teas and two buns.”

“What kind?” the girl responded chirpily. “We got currant, saffron, ginger, or lemon or we does a nice Banbury cake or there’s our specialty two-penny bun.”

Benedict shot a look of enquiry her way. “A lemon bun, please,” she requested, wondering what could distinguish the two-penny bun so much as to cost twice as much as its fellows.

“Two lemon buns,” he rumbled, sitting back in his seat. As he did so, he rolled his right shoulder as though he might be experiencing some discomfort in it.

“Does it pain you?” she asked, noticing the neat little maid looked back over her shoulder at him as she retreated to fetch their order. He shook his head. “I could pay for these,” she offered, reaching into her pocket and showing him her gold sovereign.

His eyebrows rose. “Dare I ask?” he drawled.

“Your grandmother took me with her to learn how to tell fortunes.”

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine you’d be well suited for such a thing.”

Lizzie stared down at the faded tablecloth, tracing a tea stain with her finger. “I agree,” she said in a strangled voice. “And yet …” she trailed off miserably. “Why do you say I would not be suited to it?” she asked instead.

“You’re too truthful,” he replied at once, and Lizzie felt the words on her tongue shrivel and her cheeks grow hot.

“Lizzie?” he asked.

“I haven’t anything else to add,” she said in a small voice.

He snorted. “The old lady scolded you, I suppose, but you needn’t attend her.”

“Well, but how am I supposed to keep myself busy all day?” she asked reasonably. “I have to pull my weight somehow. Everyone else seems to have their own role.”

“Don’t lump us together with them,” he said sharply. “We’re separate. Our own entity.”

Lizzie was startled by his vehemence. “So then – ”

“You answer to me and no one else,” he retorted.

She considered this a moment. “I wasn’t bad at the fortune telling, precisely,” she admitted. “It was just that I rather alarmed myself by getting carried away.”

He narrowed his eyes at this. “How do you mean?”

“Well,” Lizzie took a deep breath. “Once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop.” He seemed at a loss how to respond to this confession, and finding the silence difficult to bear, Lizzie plunged on. “I – I told some woman that her suitor was a fortune hunter and her nurse not to be trusted.”

“Why?” Benedict asked, as she squirmed with embarrassment.

“Because, that was how they struck me,” she said wretchedly. “It was like – ” she broke off. “Oh, I don’t know how to describe it!”

“Are you saying you were divinely inspired?” Benedict asked with heavy sarcasm.

“Of course not!” Lizzie was profoundly shocked by the idea of such blasphemy. “It was more like someone giving me free rein to say exactly what was on my mind. For one as opinionated as I am,” she admitted, frankly, “I think that might be rather dangerous.”

Benedict laughed suddenly, startling her a good deal. “You may be right,” he conceded. “So then, leave off the fortune telling in future.”

“Really? Your grandmother may not be pleased after she took the time to tutor me in the art.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t sound like you minded her much.”

“How can you tell?”

“You’re supposed to tell them what they want to hear,” Benedict pointed out dryly. “It sounds like you did the opposite.”

Lizzie brooded on this a moment.