the thief s eyes —but in them he'd seen only the reflected blue flames of the gaslight and whoever had heard of a blue-eyed Chinaman!
He gripped the knocker and pounded on the Penningtons' front door.
"Miserable blinkin' weather. I'd forgotten about the miserable blinkin' weather. That's London for you!"
Kit glanced at the sour countenance of her maid, who was peering gloomily out of the window.
"Rain, rain all the blinkin' time —and then, when it does finally stop, what do you get?—blinkin' fog! However did I stand it when I was young?"
Kit tried not to smile. "Never mind, Maggie dear, we need not stay here forever, you know."
Maggie snorted and picked up the woollen stocking she had been darning. "You can't gull me, Miss Mischief. You've always hankered after a home of your own, and now we're finally home in England —''
"But that's just it, Maggie," Kit interrupted, frowning. "I'm not home. I wasn't even born in England. I don't belong here, any more than —"
"What do you mean, you're not home? O' course you're home!"
Kit smiled a little ruefully. "No. I'm not. I have no family here —no family anywhere. I'm living amongst strangers here, just as I always have."
"Nonsense! No family? What about your auntie? Miss Rose is —"
Kit blinked in surprise. "Maggie, I thought you realised."
Maggie frowned. “Realised what?''
Kit pulled a wry face. "Rose is no aunt of mine. Papa had no kin. She is —or was—one of Papa's friends. You've met a dozen of my 'aunts' before."
Maggie frowned. "I dunno, Miss Kit, Miss Rose doesn't seem like one of those types. Your pa was always interested in more, more..."
Kit smiled. "More glamorous females? Yes, but it has been more than twenty years since he last saw Rose. Much can change in that time and Rose may well have been quite a dasher in her youth —"
Maggie stopped her with an emphatic gesture. "We'll not discuss your pa and his hussies. Scandalous, it was!" She lifted a long white frock in delicate muslin and carefully laid it on the bed. Come on, missie, let's have you into this." Tossing the gown over Kit's freshly coiffed head, she turned her around, twitching the fabric into place, examining every inch of her critically. Her eyes softened at the sight of the young woman's flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.
"You're enjoying this, ain't you, Miss Kit?"
Kit blushed and looked a little self-conscious. "Yes, Maggie. I never dreamed it would be such fun to be a young girl again. To have nothing more to worry about than what to wear and who to dance with. And Miss Singleton is so very kind. I do not care what she may have done in the past I have not experienced such kindness in..." She sighed. shook her head and drew on her gloves briskly. It is very agreeable."
Maggie looked at her searchingly. "You don't think you might like to take the opportunity to get yourself a husband, lovie?"
Kit shook her head firmly. "It's not what I came here to do."
"Yes, but —"
“No, Maggie. I am here under false pretences. I couldn't possibly deceive any man into offering for me. It is one thing for a man to offer for Miss Singleton's poverty-stricken long-lost niece —though money seems to be so important here that I cannot imagine anyone doing such a thing. But to offer for a poverty-stricken unknown adventuress daughter of Miss Singleton's former—" She broke off hurriedly. "Well! That's a very different matter, at any rate. Any man knowing my true background is more likely to offer me a carte blanche than a ring, and you know I wouldn't accept that."
"I should hope not, indeed!"
Kit laughed. "Yes, Maggie dearest, your stuffy strait-lacing has certainly rubbed off on me." She caught Maggie's look and amended her statement. "Well, in most areas, at least. I cannot be expected to have inherited nothing at all from Papa, now can I?" She planted a light kiss on her maid's rosy cheek.
Maggie bridled in pleased disapproval. "Oh, get away with you, Miss Baggage! I don't
Gene Wentz, B. Abell Jurus