A Thief Before Christmas by Jennifer McGowan

my eyes in the semi-darkness. Henry was an idiot, but young men often were when it came to matters of the heart. I knew the truth of the matter, though. He loved Lucretia and believed he could not have her, that his father would instead force him to wed Annabelle. So he must leave.
    My own plan was now neatly lined up before me, given the quick research I’d done on the families of Leeds, but time was ever of the essence. I took several steps back so I could build up some speed, then I bustled forward, rounding the corner with quick paces even as I tugged at my coat and half-removed it, the picture of the daydreaming maid returning late to her workplace.
    â€œOh!” I gasped, rounding my eyes and halting in the doorway. “Your pardon, sirs. I did not know anyone else was here!”
    â€œAnd what brings you here yourself?” boomed the man at the front of the room. I turned my attention to the patriarch of the Dobbs family. He was tall and straight and thick-muscled, the body of a man used to physical labor with the weathered face to match. He’d earned his money by sweat as much as savvy, I guessed. “It is Sunday. Mistress Caraway isn’t here.”
    â€œShe’s not?” I cried, all aghast, nervous pacing once again taking me forward. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir. I was only told to come here and begin my duties, my mother so grateful I was able to find work, and her doing so poorly, I wanted to start right away, and I am so sorry for my mistake and please do not tell Mistress Caraway and—”
    As I walked, I had taken several steps toward Henry, who turned to me with such a look of sympathy and understanding that I really would have burst into tears if any of my tale were true. “There now, there’s no problem,” he said gently, and he closed the distance to me, patting me on the shoulder. “I’m sure we can give you a shilling for your troubles.”
    â€œA shilling!” echoed a brother, though his shock was tempered with a smile. “For making a mistake!”
    â€œGood thing he’s joining the Church, Father. He’ll bankrupt you by Twelfth Night else.”
    â€œA shilling,” Henry said firmly. He fished in the pouch at his waist and brought forth the small coin. “And Merry Christmas to you.”
    â€œThank you, sir! I thank you!” I curtsied clumsily, not really knowing the art of it, and wobbled on my feet in my feigned excitement. Henry reached out and steadied me, as I knew he would, and I tucked Lucretia’s letter into his still half-open pouch as he did so, keeping myself from removing another coin only with the greatest of efforts.
    We both straightened, and Henry turned to his father. “Good day to you, my lord,” he said. I watched his father nod back to him, and the man’s look of stark sadness cut me to the core. This was the face of a man who believed he was losing a son. I almost threw up my hands in exasperation. I didn’t have time for this!
    I dashed out the door, but instead of turning right, I turned left, ducking behind the nearest corner. Henry left shortly after, his brothers soon after that. It was only when I heard the steps of his father that I stirred.
    â€œMy lord? Your pardon, my lord?” I popped out from my hiding place with my hands out where the old man could see them.
    â€œYou!” he said sharply. “Why are you hanging about? You’ve received your shilling and to spare—”
    â€œNo, no!” I cut him off. “I’ve not much time. I just wanted you to know—never mind how I know this, but take it as truth an’ it serves you. Your son is quite in love with a maiden named Lucretia Williams. His heart is set on her, but he feels her family is not highly enough placed to do honor to you. If you could— I mean I wouldn’t know, but—”
    â€œLucretia . . . Williams?” The Dobbs patriarch asked