Kiran came for me in the morning, knocking on my door so quietly that I knew he felt bad about last night. I pretended my little slip hadn’t even happened, jerking the door open and welcoming him with a snarl.

            “Well good morning sunshine, what do you have planned for us today?”

            He was wearing the same silk shirt as yesterday, and his hair was messy and sticking up on end here and there. He blinked at me, regaining his composure quickly. “I think we’ll shack up someplace nicer and try our hand at another round of cards.”

            I stared at him, wishing I could see through the façade. What was he thinking right now? Did he realize he’d been wrong about me putting some kind of spell on him? Or was he still regarding me with suspicion?

            “Two rooms still, right?” I said pointedly, crossing my arms over my chest so that my body language couldn’t be mistaken. “Wouldn’t want to look scandalous.”

            Kiran smirked. “You’re a gambling lady, Cas. Your very nature is scandalous.”

            I thought about the way his lips had felt on mine, and I frowned at him. “Don’t call me Cas.”

            “Cas,” he repeated, and turned on his heel. “Come on, let’s go.”

            I followed him down the stair, silently fuming.

            The hackney cab rumbled over the uneven cobble stones, jostling both of us mercilessly. The driver up top was a cold, silent sort of man, who had tipped his hat at Kiran and ignored me completely. I’d made sure to sweep him a sarcastic curtsey before jumping in the cab.

            “Who’s your man?” My voice came out shaky as we went over a series of violent bumps. The carriage shook and rattled like it might come apart at any moment.

            “Ah, that’s Gregor,” Kiran said. “He doesn’t say much, quiet chap.”

            “Yeah, he’s a real winner.” I flung one hand out and braced it on the wall to keep from sliding over in the seat. “Drives like he’s at the races too.”

            Kiran grinned. “He comes cheap.”

            I stared at him, feeling curiosity flare. “Why aren’t you living in a mansion somewhere with a wife and six mistresses? You’re a master thief. You can steal anything you want and get away with it. You should be very well monied, right?”

            Lightfoot only looked away out the window, at first I thought he wasn’t going to answer at all, and then he shrugged and said, “My talents have been put to use with…other things.”

            “Put to use…” I said slowly, and felt my eyes go wide as comprehension dawned. “You’re working for someone.”

            My mouth dropped open. The master thief, the legendary Lightfoot, a hired pawn doing someone’s bidding. Well, so much for the romantic, dashing figure of the legends!

            “You must be kidding me,” I snickered.

            Kiran’s head snapped around, and his blue eyes were narrow. “That’s about to end,” he growled. “Very shortly.”

            Unconsciously I felt myself press back against the seat. I’d only seen that dangerous glitter in his eyes once before, and that was shortly before he’d dispatched Boxcar.

            “You don’t want to…” I whispered. “I mean…they have something over you.”

            The murderous look in his eyes was still there, though he appeared to calm himself, leaning back against the seat. He looked out the window again, refusing to look at me. “You could say that.”

            It wasn’t taking me long to put two and two together. “This is why we’re doing this, isn’t it? It’s Rook you work for.”

            His silence confirmed it. Kiran still wouldn’t look away from the window.

            I knew I was talking too much, asking too many questions, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “What does he have over you?”

            Now he looked at me, and his eyes were as cold as winter. “That’s hardly your concern.”

            Irritation surged, and I snapped at him. “Pity, I thought we were sharing. Come on, Lightfoot. Everyone has a sob story. I’m sure yours is spectacular…”

            “Be silent.”

            “You picked the wrong half-fairy if you want a quiet one,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

            “Don’t think I’m above putting that iron collar back on you…”

            “You can’t threaten me with that every time you get your knickers in a twist!” I glared at him. “How are we supposed to trust one another if you keep threatening me?”

            Kiran snorted, his dark brows shooting up in disbelief. “Trust you? You tried to clock me with a statue last night. I don’t trust you.”

            “The fact remains that you can’t threaten me with iron every time you want me to shut up,” I said sharply.

            Kiran leaned closer, glowering at me. “How about a gag then?”

            “I’d love to see you try that, Lightfoot…”

            The carriage gave another lurch, sending me flying forward, and I landed on the opposite seat, half in Kiran’s lap. Quickly I scrambled backwards, shoving myself off him as if he were made of pure iron. My skin was prickling with goose bumps at the unexpected contact. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

            What if he made some crack about me throwing myself at him again? I resolved to kick him in the jewels if he so much as opened his mouth.

            But Kiren didn’t say anything, only stared at me with an intensity that made me turn quickly to the window, fixing my eyes on the landscape rolling by. Was I turning red? I hoped he didn't notice.

            “We’re almost there,” he said after the seconds had stretched into minutes. “We’re going to the shops first. To get you a new dress.”

            That made me turn back quickly. “I don’t want more dresses. I want my pants back.”

            He blinked at me. “You can’t expect them to let you into the higher end establishments looking like a street urchin. We have to dress you appropriately.”

            I pressed my lips together until I was sure they were turning white, forcing myself not to give him a verbal lashing. The last dress had been bad enough, now the next damn thing was probably going to be covered in lace. So I’d walk around looking like someone’s birthday cake…great.

            I finally said, as evenly as I could, “I don’t want it to be that low this time.”

            A small smile tugged at the corner of Kiran’s mouth. “Very well, we’ll see if we can find something you’re more comfortable with.”

            I sagged back against the seat, thinking that at least this time I wouldn’t look like a street walker, and maybe the men wouldn’t be so disgusting in this joint. Who knew, maybe I’d actually have a good time. After all, this was all about playing the game…

            My fingers tingled slightly, and I curled my hands into fists. “Can I play this time?”

            Kiran raised one brow at me. “You’ve already caught on to the rules?”

            “A child could catch on,” I said, exasperated.

            “Very well, I play the first few, and then we’ll switch.”

            The carriage lurched to a stop, and Kiran pushed the door open, offering me a hand to escort me down the steps. I ignored it, jumping down myself, feeling the impact as my boots hit the cobblestones. I may be in a stupid looking dress, but my shoes were still good at least.

            As if he’d read my mind, Kiran said dryly, “We’ll have to get you some different shoes.”

            “I don’t want different shoes.” I trailed after him as he approached the shops, heading for a little white building wedged between a bakery and a hat shop. “Then I won’t be able to move properly.”

            “That’s why I’m buying you new shoes,” Kiran said. “We can’t have you leaping about like a gazelle while you’re pretending to be a lady of class.”

            I was about to voice my complaints, loudly, but by then we were already walking into the dress shop. The place was cramped and tiny, but in the most fashionable way possible. The walls were off-white, and decorated with bits of mirrors here and there, set at angles in the corners to make the place look bigger and fill it with light. There were long strands of every color of fabric draped from the ceiling beams above our heads, samples, if I had to guess. Not that I’d ever been in a fancy dress shop before…

            I found myself gravitating closer to Kiran, hands on my upper arms as if I were trying to comfort myself. Already this place was making my skin crawl. It was entirely alien for me, and I found the white-washed walls and rows of silk and satin far more terrifying than the alleys and gutters of New London.

            It wasn’t right for me to be here

            “Just relax,” Kiran muttered. “We’re here to buy a dress. They’re not going to stab you.” His irritation smoothed away into an easy smile as someone emerged from a door in the back of the room. A young woman with rosy red cheeks and a gracious smile made her way over to us. She was wearing a white dress with a blue satin sash around the waist, and a hat that was nearly all covered with blue flowers. When she got closer and took in what I was wearing, her pale face went from open and smiling to completely astonished.

            She recovered herself gracefully though, and smiled sweetly at Kiran. “What can I do for you, sir?”

            I felt like stomping on her pretty black-buttoned boots. That would make her pay attention to me. You couldn’t pretend someone didn’t exist if they were stomping on your toes and cackling madly, could you?

            Kiran’s smile was every bit as soppy as the shop girl’s. “We have a bit of an emergency, and we’d be much obliged if you could help us. You see, several days ago, we acquired a new maid. A tender young thing, and quite inexperienced…”

            I pressed my lips together tightly, irritated at how well Kiran was pulling off the snotty gentleman thing. Now I felt like jumping up and down on his toes.

            But the shop girl was slowly melting under his courteous manners and blue-eyed gaze, nodding enthusiastically as he told her a pack of outrageous lies.

            “The poor girl was quite flustered with so many tasks that were new to her, and she left a pot on the stove to burn up all the water and…well, you can imagine what happened next.”

            “No!” The shop girl cried, eyes wide with horror. “She did not burn your entire house down, sir!”

            Kiran nodded gravely. “The house itself can be repaired, but all my poor lovely wife’s clothing, ruined by the smoke! Her only option…to borrow a dress from the very maid who burned down her house.”

            “No!” The shop girl gasped, whirling on me and taking my hand. Now she was all concern. “Oh, you poor dear! You poor wretched creature, you must be so humiliated.”

            I had to push down the intense, burning urge to kick Kiran in both his shins. Instead I gave the shop girl a weak smile and a nod, forcing myself not to pull my hand out of her grasp.

            “And that wicked, wicked house maid!” The shop girl’s eyes were shining with excitement, she was really warming up to the subject now. “Surely you won’t keep her on!”

            “But she was my poor dead mother’s favorite maid,” Kiran said, and he managed to make his voice sound like he was on the verge of tears. “I simply cannot send her away. My mother would turn in her grave, perhaps even come back as a spirit to vex me for the rest of my days.”

            The shop girl’s hand flew to her mouth, which thankfully, freed me from her grip, and I took a step back to avoid being snatched at a second time. The story didn't even make sense.

            “This is quite the conundrum,” Kiran added. “So as you can see, we are in a bit of a bind. We have a dinner party to get to tonight, and my wife…” he gestured at the dress I was wearing, and the shop girl’s eyes went even bigger, if that was physically possibly, and she let out a horrified gasp.

            “Oh, good sir, no! She cannot possibly…”

            “Precisely,” Kiran agreed. “It simply isn’t acceptable. But this dinner is very important. Which is why we were wondering, if there is a way….if there is a possibility that you…might have something….”

            The shop girl worked one of her dull brown curls around her index finger, eyes rolling up to the ceiling as she thought, an anxious frown on her face. “But sir, all of our dresses are commissioned. They’re all for someone. We could have a dress made up for your wife…”

            “But it would not be done on time for tonight,” Kiran sighed. Then he groaned dramatically and dropped his face into his hands. I barely held in a snort of disgust, but the shop girl seemed very distressed by this.

            “Oh, sir! Don’t despair, I…I must do something for you…” her eyes lit up suddenly. “Lady Peningworth has a dress that she isn’t going to pick up for a month, she’s not in town until then, and she doesn’t even know what it looks like. Her mother picked it out for her. I can give you that one, and make another one on time.”

            “Oh, could you?” Kiran sounded astonished. “My dear lady, we would be truly indebted to you.”

            The shop girl blushed deep red. “I think your dear wife and Lady Peningworth are around the same frame and height. Let me go retrieve the dress for you.”

            She swept away with a rustle of crinoline, leaving me to glower at Kiran. I waited until she was in the backroom and out of ear shot before hissing at him, “You realize you’re probably going to get this girl fired?”

            “What? I’m shocked that you care.” Kiran grinned at me. “Are you going soft, Cas?”

            “Stop calling me that,” I ground the words out between my teeth. “I don’t care but I thought you would, since…”

            I had to cut myself off abruptly when the shop girl came back in, bearing a large bundle of fabric. When she let it unfold, shaking the folds and wrinkles out, I could make out the orange and green pattern.

            “If you’ll just duck behind the partition, ma’am. I can help you into it.”

            I held a sigh in and did as I was told, ducking behind the fabric screen and doing my best to stand still while the shop girl tugged at the corset back of my dress, sliding it off and letting me study myself with one hand on her shoulder while I stepped out of it. When she saw my dirty boots she looked so horrified that I nearly laughed.

            “These were the only shoes the poor girl has,” I said, doing my best to sound as if I were terribly sad about the whole thing.

            “Oh dear,” she murmured. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know the shop next door sells shoes.”

            “Ah… very good.” I forced myself to smile at her, even though I was already thinking about how pinched my toes were going to be.

            The shop girl was obviously used to this, because she had me in the new dress in record time, lacing me in the back so tightly it was hard to breath. Luckily it was a corset back, or I might not have fit the stupid thing.

            “I’ve had to do it up to the seams,” the shop girl whispered to me. “It seems Lady Peningworth has a healthier appetite than you do. But if you do your hair in curls and wear it long tonight, nobody will notice the back lacing.”

            “Thank you,” I said, maneuvering myself around to look at her. “Really, if it wasn’t for you…” our scheme wouldn’t work. “We wouldn't have been able to attend the dinner tonight. It’s ever so important for my husband’s business, and what with the fire…”

            “Of course, of course!” the shop girl cried. “You mustn’t worry, dear. It will be alright.”

            I felt a horrible surge of guilt at her reassurances. What if she did lose her job because of us? I hesitated. “You’ve done us no little favor.” I glanced down at the dress, at the rich material and the intricate beaded pattern on the front. “You won’t be…you won’t find trouble because of us, will you? Is your manager a reasonable woman?”

            “I’ll be quite alright.” The shop girl looked proud. “I’m her top dress maker. Nearly indispensable.”

            She was an optimistic little thing, no doubt about it. I gave her a warm smile and thanked her again, and she flushed red and changed the subject, suggesting we go show my “husband” the dress. I followed her out from behind the screen.

            Kiran was standing just off to the left, examining a swath of colorful silk fabric. He looked up when we approached him, and his eyes widened slightly.

            “It…it fits very well.”

            “Turn around,” the shop girl urged. “There’s mirror just there.”

            I turned to the mirror on the far wall, astonished to see I was practically a different person than the woman who had gone behind the screen in the first place. The dress was form fitting, with an attractive silvery green and muted orange pattern and a deep v-neck made modest by a strip of lace. Ruching at the back made a bustle, and I turned sideways, staring at myself in astonishment. This was the type of stuff I’d always laughed at. I looked like one of the ladies I’d made fun of for most of my life. I could feel my face growing hot. Not because I felt silly, but because I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. There was something about the dress, about the silky fabric, that made me want to run my fingers over it.

            There was no way anyone would ignore me while I was wearing this.

            When I glanced over at Kiran he was studying the floor, scratching the back of his neck.

            The shop girl’s eyes were shining, and she breathed. “You look lovely, dear. It’s perfect for your dinner.”

            Or for a trip to a slightly classier gambling house. “What do you think?” I said to Kiran.

            “It will certainly work,” he said evenly, then he gave the shop girl a wide, white smile. “I can’t thank you enough. Come, we will discuss prices.”

            I let them go up to the counter, staying where I was in front of the mirror. I couldn’t stop staring at myself. Did that mean I was turning into one of these ridiculous women who only cared about hair and makeup and the latest fashions coming from Paris? Would I be reduced to having my deepest thought be about the changing fashions this year?

            One traitorous hand strayed to the fabric of the dress, running my palm over the fabric. It was as smooth as glass. When I moved the dress rippled like water around my legs and brushed the floor with gentle shushing sounds, like it was telling me to be quiet. To just relax.

            I pushed away all thoughts and worries about turning into a “fancy lady” and let myself enjoy the dress. This wasn’t going to happen again. It was for Kiran….

            No, I corrected myself angrily, most certainly not for Kiran. For gold. Gold for me.