From Lies Read Free Page A

son's head.
    "I will arrange it," Rafe said, and rose, releasing the boy's hand from his own as he extended his hand to Lord Shaften. "Next week."
    "Yes, yes." Lord Shaften smiled wide as he shook Rafe's hand.
    They said a few more pleasantries before Lord Shaften bid him good day. Rafe stood there a moment longer then turned and headed back to the bakery, glad to see Greta standing at the counter waiting for him.
    "Quickly now," Rafe said and pivoted on his heel to head back out the door. "We are going to the dressmaker's next."
    He didn't wait for her, just strode across the cobblestone path that constituted a road. When he made it to the dressmaker's he turned, his stance stiff while he waited for Greta to catch up. She was practically jogging as she made her way to him, and Rafe wanted to tell her to slow down, he'd wait.
    Appearances. That traitorous part of himself whispered, the one that had told him as a child he couldn't defy his mother. He wondered if it wasn't that part of himself that was slowly strangling him in his sleep, causing him to wake cold while the moon still hung high in the sky.
    The soft panting breathes Greta released dragged him back to the here and now, and he walked into the dressmaker's, his footfalls heavy as he moved across the well-worn wood. The dressmaker, an older woman with white streaks in her hair who was getting ready to transfer her shop to her apprentice, a young gentleman who had a way with lace, glared at Rafe as if he'd dragged something foul into her store.
    "Yes?" Her old voice was raspy, a thread ready to snap.
    "My mother has bid me inquire if you still have my sister's measurements from the last time we were in." He made it sound less like a question and more a demand. Based on the sneer she gave him, he'd succeeded.
    "No." Her answer was clipped as she turned away, going back to telling her apprentice something Rafe couldn't hear.
    He nearly cheered in joy. This fit into his plans better than he could have hoped. "Then you will use her," he took Greta's arm in a firm yet soft grip and tugged until she moved forward, "to take new measurements." He turned away from their gaping mouths and gave Greta an apologetic look. She simply watched him in confusion. "I shall return after I have set up an appointment with the tailor." He didn't wait for a response before he left the shop, breathing deep while he moved down the cobbled road and strode briskly into the tailor's. At least this was one location he'd never had to take Greta and put up his act.
    He greeted the tailor warmly, taking a seat where the man indicated. He watched while a young boy was fitted in a smart outfit for his coming seventeenth birthday. The boy chatted excitedly to the tailor about what he would do with the new responsibilities his age would afford him, and Rafe had to wonder if he'd ever been that excited for a birthday.
    Rafe looked back, remembering his own seventeenth and how he'd finally be able to drink spirits, take an apprenticeship if he'd wanted one, join the service if that had been his preferred leaning, but he hadn't done any of that. He turned his gaze to the window, shutting out the nattering of the excited boy. His seventeenth had been a solemn affair, a time when his mother had been too busy attempting to make friends out of her circle of influence, his sister had been sick with a terrible cold, and none of the staff had seen fit to offer a kind word. Even Greta, sweet, kind Greta had been busy. His birthday had passed in silence, his memories of cruel words all that had kept angry, ashamed tears at bay.
    He startled at the loud noise of the boy hopping off the podium to walk around, stretching the fabric to make sure it fit right. At least he was no longer surrounded by his memories. Rafe smiled at the boy when he turned toward him, complementing the lad, and receiving a wide grin in turn. It was only a few more minutes before the tailor was ready for him, quickly confirming Rafe's