Sunlight beamed down upon the garden and a soft breeze ruffled Hyacinth’s golden locks, which seemed determined to escape the confines of her hat, no matter how many times she readjusted it. Sighing, she removed the hat and allowed the full warmth of the sun to caress her cheeks. She closed her eyes, leaned back slightly, and breathed slow and deep.

Ever since she’d overheard Miss Wickersham and Nurse Lister speaking about her future, she’d been in a state of constant nervousness, as she wondered whether or not she would soon have a papa of her very own, or if her caregivers would deem her too ill-behaved to become a wife at all and call her wedding to Lord Kensington off. To make matters worse, someone else had broken into the sugar cabinet this morning, though it had happened when Cynny was tutoring some of the younger girls and she’d thankfully had an alibi no one could question.

This time. What about the next incident, if Cynny couldn’t account for her time, even when she was innocent?

Didn’t Miss Wickersham realize she wouldn’t dare misbehave before her wedding date? She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her match with Lord Kensington. She wanted to be happy like her friend Cammie, to have a loving papa and a brand new life as a lady, and she wanted the same for the rest of the girls in Talcott House as well.

Frustration simmered beneath her surface and she spun her hat on one finger, trying to work off her negative energies. In the past, she had been naughty and deserved the punishments she received at Talcott House, but many times she had also been blamed for things she hadn’t done. Like steal biscuits from the kitchen, or giggle during lessons, or put a toad in bossy Garland’s pillowcase.

Despite being on her best behavior during recent months, when something went missing or a prank was played, most of the residents in Talcott House looked at her with suspicion. She’d been quite the hellion, she would admit, when she had first arrived at Talcott House, but she had quickly learned the rules and had eventually started trying to follow them. Not that anyone, least of all Miss Wickersham, had noticed.

Miss Wickersham herself often didn’t believe Cynny when she professed her innocence and begrudged sitting on the naughty seat, because countless times in the past she’d done the very same things of which she was being accused. It wasn’t her fault another girl had copied her prank of putting a toad in Garland’s pillowcase five times already, though Cynny had no idea who the culprit was.

Tears burned in her eyes, and she put her hat back on her head and wandered away from her friends, Rosie and Daisy, who were prattling on about a new kind of hairstyle they were planning to try on one another. She felt a stab of loneliness and reached in her pocket to touch the letter she’d received this morning from her best friend, Cammie, who had recently left Talcott House and gotten married. Cammie claimed she had the very best papa and that she was falling in love with her new husband, Lord Cavendish. Her new life sounded perfect.

Would Cynny ever be so lucky? She settled on a bench far removed from the rest of the girls who were outside enjoying the beautiful warm day as the fullness of her solitude swept over her. Sometimes when she was wrongly accused of mischief, Rosie and Daisy would give her a suspicious look, just like all the other girls did. It was during such times that she missed Cammie the most, because her best friend had always believed her and defended her from the wagging tongues of the other girls.

How could Cynny change her reputation? It seemed no matter how many good deeds she performed—like dusting the library, helping Cook, or tutoring the younger girls—the dark cloud of her past loomed over her, constant and unforgiving and taunting.

Once a thief, always a thief. She was certain that was what Miss Wickersham must think of her, no matter how often the older woman professed that all her little charges got a new beginning when they came to Talcott House. A fresh start. Cynny believed her new beginning wouldn’t come until she had a papa.

Papas were strict but loving, and they were kind and wise. Surely if she had a papa, he wouldn’t think she was a liar and a thief, like the majority of Talcott House did. If she were wrongly accused of some wickedness, her papa would defend her and hunt down the real culprit. The thought of a handsome papa fighting for her brought a smile to her lips.

Of course, she would have to impress her papa from the start. She had heard that couples exchanged presents when they got married, and she needed to be ready for the day Lord Kensington arrived. She counted in her head. Eight days. He was coming soon, and she resolved to find the most wonderful gift for her new papa as soon as she possibly could.

But she didn’t have any money, and she didn’t know how she would manage a gift. A sigh escaped her lips. She supposed she would have to make something, but she didn’t know what. Perhaps Daisy could help her embroider a handkerchief for her papa.

Her spirits sank. A handkerchief! What was she thinking? That wasn’t a good gift. Not for a papa, especially a lord. She needed something spectacular. A present he would love. A present fit for the Earl of Fenton.

She turned at the sound of voices and squinted as the sun reflected off something shiny and expensive. The owner of the object walked closer, out of the direct sunlight just long enough for her to glimpse the gold pocket watch. Her gaze traveled up to meet the eyes of the man wearing the lavish piece, and her heart beat frantically in her chest. The handsome man, whom she’d never seen before, gave her a brief smile and nod as he passed by with Miss Wickersham.

Curious about his presence at Talcott House, as men didn’t visit often, she studied his tall profile as he walked with Miss Wickersham. He wore a tailored coat made of the finest quality, his leather boots were polished to perfection, and he comported himself with an aristocratic air.

Cynny imagined what her life would be like if she’d been born into wealth and privilege, like this gentleman. She wouldn’t have spent most of her life on the streets, part of a gang of thieves, stealing to survive—not just so she would have money for food, but so the other members of the gang wouldn’t do away with her in her sleep for being useless. She wouldn’t have known hopelessness and mind-numbing fear. She wouldn’t be in Talcott House, either, feeling alone and quite sorry for herself in this moment.

Garland stepped outside and motioned for Miss Wickersham, and the older woman excused herself from the gentleman’s company and followed the bossy caretaker inside. Cynny’s stomach flipped, and she hoped Garland hadn’t found another toad in her pillowcase. If she had, it wasn’t Cynny’s doing, this time, though of course that wouldn’t save her from being the prime suspect. As much as she would miss Daisy and Rosie, as well as a few of the other girls, she couldn’t wait to leave here.

“Good afternoon, miss.” The deep, masculine voice penetrated Cynny’s thoughts and she slowly turned in her seat to discover the gentleman had approached her. She swallowed hard as heated tingles rushed through her. He was tall and exceedingly handsome, with the broadest shoulders she had ever seen on a man.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she replied, finally finding her voice. Who was he? she wondered. A wealthy, powerful duke? One of the benefactors of Talcott House, perhaps? She’d heard whisperings that Talcott House survived off the generous donations of wealthy families, and the conversation she’d recently overheard between Miss Wickersham and Nurse Lister about financial difficulties had confirmed those rumors.

“Would you mind if I joined you while I await the return of Miss Wickersham?” he asked, with a gesture at the seat beside her.

How different he was from the men she’d encountered on the streets. He was actually asking for her permission to sit next to her. Truly, he was a gentleman of the highest order. She flushed from head to toe, feeling like the luckiest girl in all of Talcott House. There were plenty of benches and sitting areas in the gardens, but he had chosen to approach her, rather than any of the other girls outside sunning themselves on this beautiful day. Her heart fluttered and a curious pulsing sensation affected her between her thighs.

“I would be delighted if you joined me, sir.” She smiled up at him, knowing her smile was her best feature, and her flowing golden tresses were a close second. Perhaps this man had come to Talcott House in search of a wife. She decided to charm him as much as possible, because while she was betrothed to another, if he found her pleasing maybe he would decide on another girl, perhaps one of her friends. In any case, on behalf of Talcott House, she ought to try her best to make a good impression.

He took a seat and turned toward her, his dark brown eyes sparkling with intelligence. He seemed interested in her, and she had to force herself to sit politely with her hands folded in her lap, rather than squirm or fidget with her hat.

“What brings you to Talcott House, sir?” She flushed, worried her question was too bold. “That is, if you do not believe I am being too forward by asking.”

He cast a glance around the gardens, before returning his gaze to her. “I had a business matter to discuss with Miss Wickersham.” He pressed his lips together, and she knew he wouldn’t divulge the details of the business matter. He also hadn’t formally introduced himself, and that bothered her. Perhaps he wasn’t as gentlemanly as she’d first believed.

“How many years have you lived here, Miss—?”

“Miss Heathrow,” she supplied. “I’ve lived here for quite a few years. However, I won’t be here for much longer. I am to marry Lord Kensington next Saturday.” She couldn’t help but beam with pride, though she hoped her proclamation indeed came true. She resolved to check with Miss Wickersham soon and confirm that plans had not been changed or postponed, or God forbid, entirely cancelled.

His eyebrows scrunched together, and he appeared to be studying her. She wasn’t sure she liked the way he was looking at her, as if she were a charity case. As if she were a former thief and miscreant who used to roam the streets of London. She lifted her chin, as if in challenge, and didn’t break eye contact even as he continued to stare at her for an unseemly long time.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier,” he said, surprising her by taking her gloved hand and bringing it to his lips. “I am Lord Grayson, and I am pleased to meet you, Miss Heathrow.” And then he kissed the back of her gloved hand before releasing it and straightening on the bench. The pressure of his lips lingered long after he let go of her hand.

“This business with Miss Wickersham you speak of,” Cynny said, not one to let an issue rest. Although she was promised to another, she felt a strong compulsion to know if he were here in search of a wife. “Are you in need of a bride, sir? Is that why you have come to Talcott House?”

The smile faded from his eyes and he chuckled briefly. “Your question is a bold one. While I think the young ladies of Talcott House are lovely and refined indeed, yourself included, Miss Heathrow, my bride awaits me in London, where I am headed after completing my business with Miss Wickersham.”

Her heart plummeted to the ground, but she was careful not to let her emotions show. She smiled brighter and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear, once more resisting the urge to readjust her hat. She didn’t want this spoiled lord to know she’d just been imagining him as her papa and as her husband, even if the thought had only flitted through her mind for the briefest of moments. The very briefest of moments, as she ought not think of anyone in an intimate manner except Lord Kensington, despite the fact that she had yet to meet her betrothed. She tried to push away the guilt that had settled on her shoulders over her secret improprieties.

“Where did you live before you came to Talcott House?” His question surprised her, and she fumbled for an answer that wouldn’t leave him scandalized.

But what did it matter? He wasn’t here for a bride, and even if he was, there were many girls at Talcott House who were more well-behaved and refined than she was, many girls Miss Wickersham would likely recommend over her. Stop it! You are to marry Lord Kensington and that’s that. Don’t be so ridiculous.

She met his eye and sucked in a deep breath. “I lived in London, in an outbuilding behind a tavern. You see, Lord Grayson, I was a member of a vicious gang of thieves called The Weasels. Perhaps you’ve heard of us? Everyone feared us, and a tavern owner allowed us to live in his outbuilding for free, in exchange for our promise not to steal from the clients who frequented his establishment,” she said with dramatic flair. “I spent my days prowling around London, picking pockets and breaking all sorts of laws, and that is how Miss Wickersham found me. I tried to steal from her, and she caught me. She saved me from the magistrate by offering to take me into her care at Talcott House. And that, Lord Grayson, is how I came to live here.”

He stared at her, white-faced, for several seconds, before his shoulders relaxed and he gave a brief chuckle. “You have a wild imagination, Miss Heathrow.”

He didn’t believe her.

She blinked at him, a sense of numbness taking over.

He actually thought she’d made the whole story up!

It was all true, though. Every last word. In fact, she hadn’t even told him the half of it.

Truth be told, she’d omitted the darkest details of her life story. Like how she’d watched her parents die of a fever at the tender age of five, and how she’d been dumped on the streets of London by her drunkard uncle not long after. If The Weasels hadn’t found her and taken her in, no doubt she would have starved to death, alone on the streets while she cried for the parents who were never coming back.

Winter. Her uncle had abandoned her in the midst of a brutal winter, on a particularly blustery day when the streets were covered in fresh fallen snow. A member of The Weasels, Mary, had discovered her walking aimlessly in a dangerous part of town, and the rest was history. She’d learned fast in the gang. The will to live, despite her bleak circumstances, had burned bright within her and drove her to become the most exceptional thief The Weasels had ever seen. She’d liked making Mary proud, and in return the older girl had sheltered Cynny from as much danger as she could, at least until she disappeared one fateful day and never returned—a mere fortnight before Cynny stuck her hand into Miss Wickersham’s pocket and her life changed forever.

Cynny regarded Lord Grayson, wondering if he’d ever known fervent desperation or cold fear. Likely not. His life was probably a fairytale compared to hers, an endless parade of lavish dinners and fancy balls. Of course, she had much to be grateful for and resolved to stop feeling sorry for herself in moments of weakness. The worst of her hardships were behind her. She believed it in her heart.

A thought struck her. What if Lord Kensington, like Lord Grayson, also thought her stories of belonging to a notorious street gang and stealing to survive were naught but fiction? A tale she’d concocted for her own amusement? She sighed inwardly, as worry encased her heart, squeezing until she feared for an instant she might burst into tears in front of her handsome companion. Thankfully, she quickly regained her composure before Lord Grayson noticed anything was amiss. But in the wake of Miss Wickersham not believing her tears and her remorse over her most recent misbehavior, such a prospect left her uneasy.

Miss Wickersham appeared in front of them, having returned from whatever crisis had required her attention.

Lord Grayson stood and uttered some polite words of departure to Cynny, but in her frustration toward him—not to mention her frustration with herself for being drawn to him—she could only nod her goodbye. As soon as he walked away in the company of Miss Wickersham, she curled her fingers around the gold watch hidden in her lap and stealthily placed it into the pocket of her dress.

She hadn’t stolen anything in a long time, not counting her recent theft of the sugar, and she was surprised by the immense guilt she felt in the aftermath of her thievery. Taking a priceless golden pocket watch from a lord was much worse than swiping a few cups of sugar. Oh dear. What had she done? For a second, she considered approaching Lord Grayson and telling him he’d dropped his pocket watch.

She stood up and started following him, but then she hesitated.

No, she couldn’t.

What would she give her new papa as a wedding gift if she returned the pocket watch?

She swallowed past the burning in her throat and returned to the bench.

Please God, let me get married soon to Lord Kensington as planned, and let him be a kind papa who will love me and care for me forever and ever. Then I will be perfect and good and never steal anything ever again. I promise. She repeated the prayer in her head over and over again. I promise, I promise, I promise.