I clamped down on the bolt of annoyance that passed through me. My fists clenched, but I quickly forced them to relax andpulled out my wallet. “How embarrassing that it slipped my mind,” I said.Does he assume I will not pay my bills?The frustration roiled within me as I looked at the cash in my wallet.

Trying to count it discreetly while dividing it by the price for a night was tough business when Mr. Erikson’s gaze was politely and firmly set on me.

“Ah, if another five nights is acceptable…” I muttered.

His quick fingers glided over the keyboard, and Mr. Erikson confirmed it. He then proceeded to take most of the cash I still had. Trying not to sweat at the desk, I paid for another five nights, turned on my heels, and marched out.

Had I remained in the run-down room where I’d spent my first night, I would have had twice as many nights for the same price. Three times, perhaps. But it was just as likely that I would have returned to Verdumont to escape the purgatory that place was.

I walked out of the hotel and into the hot August air, traffic congesting the street and people muttering at having to walk around me on the sidewalk. I was set for another five days. My room included food and access to the hotel’s spa, sauna, and pool. The knots in my back begged for a massage, but my toes were too antsy to let me lie still for forty minutes.

So I walked aimlessly away from Hudson Burrow, beating myself over my poor financial choices and telling myself how there had never been another way. Eventually, I would have to use the card. Eventually, I would break and slip and fire up a beacon for Alexander.

He could trace me to the States, but I didn’t know howprecisely he could pin me down. And if he could, I wondered if this was his plan all along. Was he showing me I couldn’t function on my own? That I was doomed without the family’s support? If that was his strategy, it was beginning to work. My confidence had never been this low, and I had never felt more trapped. What had begun as a run toward freedom’s warm embrace was starting to feel like a self-imposed exile.

You can end this, a voice told me. I wasn’t sure whose voice it was, mine or Alexander’s.

If he left me to destroy myself, he would have an easy time convincing me that my marriage to the Marchioness was the best conclusion to my story.

“No,” I growled aloud, earning a look from a passing woman whose stride quickened soon after.If you need a place to stay, Mama Viv knows someone with a spare bed. If you need a job, Mama Viv will find a vacancy or make one if none exists.Those had been Tristan’s words. And those words might be my last chance to reach a better fighting ground.

The universe made this decision for me. I turned around and headed back to the heart of Hudson Burrow.

The cigarette in the long, elaborate holder made of ebonite and worked silver was unlit, but that didn’t stop Lady Vivien Woodcock from biting her end of the holder. The sound of teeth meeting the black ebonite was sharp and quick, matching the acrylic nails clacking against the wooden surface of the table between us.

“It’s wonderful to put a name to that face, Cedric,” Lady Vivien said, her voice deep and velvety. She wore a black dress with stripes of white and a rich red lining. Her sleeves were loose, and their edges were worked with lace that also held the hems of her neckline together. With makeup and padding, it was hard to tell that Lady Vivien didn’t have a big bosom on the verge of spilling from the dress. “I’ve seen you here before, haven’t I?”

“I believe you have,” I said and lifted my lemonade off the table, sucking a sip through a thick straw. After swallowing, I smiled my best smile for Lady Vivien. “You see, it’s a pretty bad situation I found myself in.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Lady Vivien said, amusement dripping from those words like melting chocolate. “But I can’t imagine a short-term job that will cover the cost of an apartment at Henriette. Why not try Orbit while you’re at it?”

I gritted my teeth. I never should have let that slip.

Lady Vivien laughed at her remark and stuck the cigarette holder between her teeth with a loud click. Her eyes were glimmering with curiosity and entertainment. After releasing the holder, she nodded. “If you are searching for cheaper accommodation, I happen to have a spare room.”

Muscles in my neck knotted. I had tried living on a budget. It had almost driven me into Alexander’s arms. “If you don’t mind, we could revisit that later.”

“Suit yourself, darling,” Lady Vivien said, measuring me all the same. “And what work experience do you have? What can you do?”

“Anything,” I said. “By profession, I am a historian.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.

“A history degree?” Lady Vivien’s amusement soared. “That certainly qualifies you to wash the dishes, darling.”

I bit my tongue hard. “Art history, to be exact,” I said.

“Even better,” Lady Vivien said, positively jiggling with laughter. “Oh, don’t take things so seriously, Cedric. Nobody’s out to get you.”

She didn’t know how wrong she was, and I wasn’t going to tell her. But I forced a smile on my face. “Truth be told, I would be happy washing the dishes. Or serving tables. I’ve found myself in a complicated situation where I don’t have too many choices.”

“You can always marry rich,” Lady Vivien said with a rapturous laugh.

I could feel the sweat that soaked the shirt on my back. I laughed as joyfully as I could pretend. “Until I can find a wealthy marchioness, I’d very much like to wash the dishes, Lady Vivien.”

“Mama Viv, darling,” the queen said, waving her unlit cigarette in the holder in a dismissive way. “And if you are certain, I can have you do a paid trial starting this afternoon.”

I rubbed my hands against my knees. My fingers moved nervously, and I discovered that my mouth was dry. Only now, I realized that I had been hoping to be turned down so I wouldn’t have to do this, and I could still say I’d given it my best shot. But Lady Vivien was inviting me to…work…today. “H-here?” I asked, my voice squeaking.

“Why, of course, darling,” Lady Vivien said, spreading her hands around her head as if to encompass the entire bar. “We’re throwing a Burger Bash this evening, and I can always use a pair of hands to clear the tables and wash theplates. If you can cut the buns or wash the lettuce, it’s even better.” She turned away from me and called for someone named Millie. A tall girl around my age with thick curls tied into a bushy tail walked through a door behind the bar, the sleeves of her white shirt rolled, and a black apron covered her torso and legs down to her knees. The apron sported five acrylic nails in the color of a rainbow painted across its front.