The Pleasure Merchant Read Free Page A

and then…
    “You don’t look fine.” Hizzy came over and put her cool hand on his warm forehead.
    “Really, I’m all right.”
    Tom had loved Hizziah Dray since the morning he had first seen her, as he stood awkwardly on Mr. Dray’s doorstep while the woman from the Foundling Hospital explained their almost-blood connection, practically begging Mr. Dray to take Tom in due to the crowding at the orphanage. He had been so grateful when Mr. Dray agreed to make him an apprentice, and he was grateful to Mr. Dray’s daughter, now, for her concern… but his mood soured when, after declaring his health, her attention immediately turned to Callow. She was clearly quite taken with the lad.
    Though he did not consider himself a jealous person, Tom felt something stirring inside him, a green serpent writhing deep within his stomach. He did not like seeing her so interested in this Callow Bewit. She was beautiful enough to be a lord’s consort, but Hizzy also had a fine head for figures; she was the ideal shopkeeper’s wife. A month ago he’d grown bold enough to ask if one day she would like to be such, and her shy but undeniably favorable response had given him high hopes for the future—higher than a mere orphan with no connections in the world could reasonably expect. The notion that some good-looking young gentleman with dashing manners might snatch all that away disturbed Tom deeply. How could Hizzy fail to see that a man like that would jilt her and leave her with big regrets and a bigger belly?
    “So you are Miss Dray?” asked Callow, looking Hizzy over with obvious approval. “I see that Mr. Dray produces as fine daughters as he does wigs.”
    Hizzy laughed. “My father makes the best wigs, so I shall take that as a compliment, Master…”
    “Callow Bewit,” he said, with another of his ridiculous bows.
    Though still a bit dizzy, Tom stood, and handed over the gentleman’s parcel—he felt he ought to put himself between them, lest Hizzy lie down on the work-table and lift up her skirts right then and there for this fop.
    “My apologies for the inconvenience, Master Callow,” said Tom, trying not to let his irritation show, “but as I am sufficiently recovered, allow me to complete our exchange.”
    The lad put his five guineas on the table. “I’ll let you get back to dressing your wig, then. I really can’t thank you enough. And as for you , madam,” he turned to Hizzy, “please give my father’s personal regards to Mr. Dray, and pray tell him we’ll be opening an account here very soon.” The cad had the gall to wink at her!
    “Thank you, Master Callow,” said Hizzy, demurely lowering her eyes.
    Tom coughed into his fist. “May I show you out?”
    “No no, I can find my way.” Callow winked at him, this time. It made Tom feel queer for some reason he couldn’t quite identify…
    “What a nice young man,” said Hizzy, after Callow had gone. Tom frowned at her. “What? He was charming!”
    “I wonder if you’d like him if you saw him Saturday night,” he remarked. “He’s going to Lord Chandoss’s party dressed as a woman.”
    Hizzy giggled. “Those lips! Painted and powdered he’ll look beautiful.”
    Tom felt as if a wasp had stung him on the heart. He opened his mouth to say something cutting, but then Mr. Dray came down into the workroom.
    “Who will look beautiful?” he asked.
    “One of Lord Chandoss’s guests,” said Hizzy, as if nothing at all had happened. Resentment made Tom turn away, lest master or daughter notice. “Callow Bewit, he said his name was. A young gentleman.”
    “Never you mind about young gentlemen, Hizzy,” said Mr. Dray, not unkindly. “Go on and help your mother with the chores, and this afternoon we’ll go over the books from last week. I want you to check my maths.”
    Hizzy curtseyed to her father before scurrying upstairs. Tom watched her go, feeling even more out of sorts until she blew him a kiss from behind her father’s back. That