Page 8 of A Lord in Want of a Wife (Daring Debutantes #2)

S he woke him well before dawn. Cedric did not have a sore head from drink, though he’d toasted Lucy’s success several times. He’d been drinking water because that was all he could afford. And all his toasts had been made silently as he watched her remain rosy-cheeked throughout dinner.

She was proud of herself, and that pleased him. He liked it when ladies were happy, especially the shy ones. But if he expected her delight to continue into the morning, he discovered his error when she roused him while it was still full dark.

‘Good God, what time is it? And what are you wearing?’ And why were her shoulders tight and her mouth pinched?

‘The first customer of the day cannot be denied otherwise the entire day will go sour. You’re the customer. I’m the servant.’ She spoke while stuffing her hair into a sailor’s cap. In fact, everything she wore was a rough sailor’s outfit, probably taken from her sister.

‘You still look like a girl,’ he said. Damn, he was being surly. He needed to wake up.

‘Not with my face dirty. And if you treat me like a boy, they’ll think I’m a boy.’

Right. ‘Let me get some clothes on.’

‘Rich ones,’ she said. Her father appeared over her shoulder. He wore his usual attire that set him somewhere between a sailor who wasn’t foolish with his money and a ship’s owner who didn’t dress fancy. Which meant no one could tell exactly who he was.

‘You don’t need to come with us,’ her father said. ‘I can keep an eye on things.’

‘Oh no, sir. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.’ That was the truth. Unfortunately, he punctuated it with a yawn.

Five minutes later he was on deck and ready to disembark. She came up behind him, speaking in a low voice. ‘You understand what you’re doing?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ He turned to her. Even in shadow, he could see that she was nervous. She resembled her sister as she continued to fidget with everything. Her clothes, her feet, and mostly her gaze as she looked everywhere.

‘I told you. You’re the customer.’ She gestured at the eastern horizon. ‘I only know of one merchant here, and I’m not sure of his address. We have to find him first.’

‘First before what?’

‘Before anyone else. We have to be the first customer. They will do anything—even accept a low price—to make sure the first customer buys something.’

‘Because if they don’t, it will be a bad sales day?’

She nodded. ‘At least that is the way in China. Among the…the…’ She frowned, clearly not knowing the English word.

‘The superstitious? People who believe in curses, magic and the like.’

She nodded. ‘Yes. That’s it. But not so strong. It is the custom among business people. And the merchants I know are very…very…’

‘Superstitious.’

‘Yes. That.’

She tugged at her clothing. For a woman normally so composed, this was unsettling. ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘You’ve done this before.’ At least he assumed she had.

‘No. Yes.’ She shrugged. ‘But not for many years. And usually as the seller. They would bring me out for the customers who tried to take advantage like this.’ She shrugged. ‘It makes no difference if a cursed child has a bad day.’

‘You are not a cursed child,’ he grumbled.

He’d learned that in Asia, mixed-race children were often considered cursed or a half person.

He had only to spend five minutes with her to know she was nothing so simple as that.

She was a full, fascinating person, and he would not allow anyone—including herself—to speak of her like that.

‘And you must pay attention to my knees.’

Clearly, he was not awake yet. He could not have heard her correctly.

At his blank look, she pointed to her knees under her rough pants. ‘My knees.’

He liked looking there. She had beautiful calves and very trim ankles, though it looked like she had dirtied them.

‘My knees!’ she said again, as she twisted her leg such that her left knee turned in or out.

‘Happy to,’ he drawled. ‘Why?’

‘People look for signals with the hands. Or they watch the face. No one looks down except you,’ she said, as she poked him beneath his chin. It lifted his face up. ‘You are haughty. You stare at me as if I were a bug.’

‘And I’m to look at your knees?’

‘Yes. If my knees are tight together, pressing inwards, then you do not like the price.’

‘But if you turn them open, then that’s a good deal?’

‘Yes.’ She glanced nervously at the skyline. It was still dark as pitch. ‘Come on. There is little time.’

They disembarked quickly, then moved through the streets. They were four people in total, with him in the centre acting as the wealthy one. Her father and a muscular sailor trailed behind. She went ahead. And though he itched to put her behind him, she was the one who knew where to go.

She’d said she wasn’t sure of their destination, but then he’d see her whispering with a child curled up in a shadow.

Another hiding in the branches of a tree.

And a third tucked into a pile of rubbish.

He wouldn’t have seen them if she hadn’t found them.

She would whisper and gesture, then hold up a small coin.

Getting directions, he thought, and soon they came to a shop closed up for the night with a second story that likely housed the family. She went up to the door, hesitated and looked back at him.

‘You remember where to look?’

He grinned, his chin lifting as his gaze went slowly and obviously down her body.

She rolled her eyes and hissed, ‘I’m a boy!’ But her lips were curled in a soft smile as she turned back and banged on the front door. ‘Master Mukhtar! Master Mukhtar!’

Sounds came from upstairs and somewhere a lamp was lit because he could see its flickering light in the window. And there were responses from shops on the opposite side of the alleyway. People slept in those upstairs floors, and Lucy had just woken them all.

Finally, a girl poked her head out of the window upstairs, calling something in Hindi that Cedric couldn’t understand. And neither could Lucy, as far as he was aware. And yet, she still communicated what she wanted to say.

Lucy pointed straight at Cedric. ‘Englishman!’ she cried. ‘Buy spice!’ She mimed a fat purse of money.

‘Spice?’ the girl asked.

‘Cinnamon.’

The girl shook her head. ‘No cinnamon.’

‘Black pepper.’

‘No. No pepper.’

‘Salt.’

‘No salt!’ There was fear in the girl’s eyes about that and he already knew why. The East India Company viciously controlled that. Indeed, it was even more tightly controlled than the tea from China.

This was getting them nowhere. He sighed loudly, as if he was incredibly impatient. ‘Enough, boy. I will buy silk instead.’ Then he turned to leave, but an adolescent stuck his head out of the window.

‘Silk? Come! Talk!’ Then both boy and girl disappeared from the window.

Cedric shifted uncomfortably, making a show of his displeasure. He wasn’t exactly sure if that was what she wanted, but then she turned and started rambling in a fawning tone. ‘You see? Good sale here. Good sale.’

What he saw was the spark in her eye and the way her knees were turned open. This was what she wanted. Very well, he could play along.

‘Make it quick.’ He made a show of consulting his pocket watch. He couldn’t see the time in the dark, but he made a show of it anyway.

The door opened, and they were gestured inside.

Cedric’s back prickled at walking into a darkened room like this.

He’d learned to be cautious entering foreign places without protection.

There could be armed thugs on the other side of the wall.

Her father and the sailor were equally cautious as they entered, scanning the room, then quickly shutting the door behind them.

They were under strict orders from Lucy to remain silent sentries, watching for problems but not speaking or interfering in the negotiations.

Fortunately, their fears seemed unfounded. It was the adolescent boy who faced them. The girl hid in the shadows in the back, and perhaps he saw a woman hovering behind her. But it was the boy who strutted before them.

‘You buy silk!’ he said, pointing to a pile of cheap muslin. Even Cedric could see that it was in terrible condition.

Cedric curled his lip. ‘No.’ Then he turned as if to leave.

‘Yes, yes!’ said the boy loudly as he gestured for them to go further into the back storeroom.

‘No—’

‘Lord, Lord, please,’ Miss Richards begged. ‘Come.’

‘Not safe,’ he said in an undertone.

She tugged on his arm. ‘Safe.’

He relented, though every part of him felt on high alert. Anything could happen here. In general, he was casual about personal risks, but he hated taking chances with her. If she got injured, the guilt would eat him alive.

But he had come along to see how she bargained, so he could hardly hamstring her now. He reluctantly walked beside her into a back storeroom filled with bags of spice.

Spice! Everything the boy had declared was impossible laid out before him. Cinnamon, pepper, salt, not to mention other more exotic fare. He frowned as he moved forwards, inhaling deeply as he tried to sort through the scents.

Meanwhile, the boy walked straight to a bag of cinnamon. ‘Silk!’ he said pointing. Then he held up fingers to indicate a price. Ah. So this was a fiction about what he was selling so he could claim that he never sold spices to an English foreigner.

Immediately, Miss Richards stood differently. Her legs straightened and her knees twisted inwards. She began making gestures that dismissed the quality and price. Back and forth they bartered. He could barely follow it except in the shifting position of her knees.

And though the price steadily dropped—as far as he could tell—she didn’t relax her stance. It was all, no, no, no.

What caught him instead was the way she acted. She was supposed to be a boy so her body language was stronger, broader and more aggressive. He’d imagined that he would be repulsed by such a thing. He appreciated her sister’s skill in the sails, but he preferred feminine attributes in a female.

And yet here was Miss Lucy Richards posturing as any pre-teen male might. Her stance was bold, her words rapid and her tone arrogantly dismissive. So impressive! Damn if he didn’t like the extra power in her voice or the way her gestures took on force.

He glanced back at her father who was watching with what appeared to be bored disinterest. But then he caught the man’s eyes and saw a small lift in his cheeks. He was pleased with what he saw. And so was Cedric.

Then things changed.

Miss Richards turned to Cedric, her manner pleading. ‘Good price,’ she wheedled as she held up her hand. ‘Good price.’

He frowned at the barrel of cinnamon then he looked at her. Her knees were decidedly tight together. This was not a sale she wanted, and yet her manner made him double think for a moment.

But only a moment.

‘How much?’ he asked as he lifted his purse.

The adolescent answered, then added in English, ‘Good price.’

‘Nah,’ he drawled as he pocketed the coins again. Then he curled his lip as he looked around. ‘I think we can go elsewhere.’

He started to turn with Miss Richards quickly tugging on his elbow. ‘Please, lord. Please. Good price.’

‘No. Not this trip.’ He looked towards the door. ‘Maybe across the street.’

‘No!’ the boy called. ‘Good price here.’ Then he offered a slightly lower price.

Cedric paused looking down his nose at Lucy. Her feet were slightly spread. So it was a decent price. But then he thought about what she had said. How it was a curse to lose the first sale of the day, and so they’d give difficult buyers to Lucy because she could have a cursed day.

But what if she had a good day?

He pointed to the girl still hiding in shadows. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she shrank back. But he gestured her forwards, and she stood slowly.

‘What deal will she give me?’ he asked.

Abruptly, the boy stood between him and the girl. ‘No! Not for sale!’

It took him a moment to understand the boy’s meaning. And then he was the one crying, ‘No! No!’ He had no interest in buying the girl in any capacity. Instead, he gestured to the same pile of cinnamon and offered a price. A good ten percent less than what the boy had offered.

The boy shook his head. ‘No! No!’

The same was echoed by the girl as she shook her head.

He nodded. ‘Very well.’ He smiled and bowed to her. Personally, he hated it when girls were shoved into the corner like a sack of meal. At least he could give her some respect. Then he headed for the door. ‘Come along. Maybe someone across the street.’

That was when panic flashed across the boy’s face. Clearly, Lucy had been right. Losing the first sale of the day was a bad thing for him. Suddenly, he shoved the girl forwards.

‘Sir! Sir!’ he cried. ‘We talk! We talk!’ But what he meant was, negotiate with her. Walk out on her. Then the girl would have a bad day, not him.

Cedric rocked back on his heels. He looked at the girl and at Miss Richards, and he pointed at them both. ‘You two. Talk.’

Both girls stared at him, shock in their expressions.

He didn’t care. He folded his arms and waited, and then the two females squared off.

Now the true bargaining began and both of them enjoyed every second of it.

Indeed, it was a glorious thing to watch as the boy was sidelined, and the two girls began an animated discussion.

And though both made a show of being angry at times, he saw the sparkle in their eyes and the way their gestures took on more energy, more joy. Such a pleasure to see.

In the end, a bargain was struck. Several bargains for cinnamon, pepper and even a little salt.

All of it was wrapped in the cheap muslin then packed in a pair of crates.

They bought so much that everyone took a turn carrying as they made it back to the boat.

And Cedric had the pleasure of seeing Miss Richards in her element.

She warned them as they left the shop to be wary. She even counseled him to act angry as they stomped out of the store, as if they were unhappy with what happened inside. And then they made their way quickly back to the boat.

Once safely aboard, he turned to see her face. Her grin amused him. He’d expected her to be exhausted. He certainly felt drained, and all he’d done was watch her. She, on the other hand, was so happy she practically skipped.

And then, she turned to him, a smile stretched across her face. ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice brimming with happiness. ‘Thank you for a wonderful day.’

‘Of cou—’

‘She was happy. You made her so happy.’

‘Who?’

‘Priya. The girl. She never gets to bargain, and she’s good at it.’

‘Good?’

Miss Richards laughed. ‘Not as good as me, but good. And you gave her that.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Thank you.’ Then she laughed as the sun topped the buildings to the east. Indeed, she laughed with such giddiness that his heart tumbled straight into love.