said, mentioning the twelve-year-old girl who was instructing her in the ways of the Round.
"I can imagine. Beth . . . no one stays here that can't or won't pull their own weight. We have to learn."
"Learn! To steal!"
"I suppose it comes down to that. We can't live on their efforts; they can't afford it."
"Then . . . you want to join them? Become a thief?"
Charity's gaze met Beth's steadily. "If it is the only way I can survive, yes. For now. I intend to find my own future. If it means I must do this for a while"Charity smiled"then I will be better at it than anyone else."
"Then . . . we'll be thieves together."
As Charity embraced Beth, both knew that what
they planned to do was a breach of their own standards. Yet both knew they had very little choice.
Within the next few months Charity and even a reluctant Beth learned to filch a purse from a man or woman with little effort. But Amiee taught much more than that. Charity's acting abilities were polished until she could pass for a lady in any circle.
Since most of the lucrative excursions were made in the late afternoon and early evening when shoppers and theater-goers were prevalent, Charity found her mornings free.
On such a morning Charity discovered Amiee dressing to go out. She realized then that Amiee often made these solitary excursions.
"Off again this morning?" she questioned with an innocence Amiee could see through at once.
"Yes, miss nosy, and if you want to come along, ask. Don't follow me like you did last week."
Charity had the grace to look sheepish. "You lost me within minutes. I wish I could be as good as that as you are."
"You haven't had a couple of bobbies on your heels yet. You will in time. Then you'll keep Piper's lessons in mind and learn to vanish."
"You really don't mind if I come along?"
"No. I'd enjoy your company." Amiee smiled and started for the door with Charity right behind her.
They left the Round, entering a street of houses that was neither shabby nor elegant. Amiee stopped before a large stone, two-storey house. But instead of
knocking, she opened the door and stood at the bottom of the steps.
"Jason! Are you decent?" she shouted. A masculine voice came from above.
"No! But that never mattered to you before. Come on up."
"I've brought a friend," Amiee said as she started up the steps. "And I don't want her corrupted by your questionable pictures."
"Questionable!" The voice came louder as they moved up. "On second thought, send her up and you go home."
Amiee was still laughing as she approached an open door and was met by a man who snatched her up in his arms and kissed her soundly. Then he let her go and turned to look at Charity.
"Well, well," he said softly. "Amiee, where did you get this beauty?"
"You're not going to paint her, so forget it."
"Nobody asked you," he retorted as he stopped to stand by Charity. "Of course, you'll pose for me. I paint angels better than anyone else."
"This is Jason Desmond, Charity. Don't trust him an inch."
"Hello, Mr. Desmond." Charity smiled up into friendly gray eyes.
Jason Desmond was tall, well over six feet. He towered over Charity. His auburn hair was thick and much too long to be fashionable. Still, it suited him. His smile was open, and she liked him at once.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, and no, I won't pose for you."
"Amiee's corrupted you. I'm as gentle as a lamb," Jason protested. "What's your name?"
"Charity. Charity Gilbert."
"Come in, Charity. Let me show you around."
Charity was ushered into a large room which was brightened by skylights. There was one battered couch in the corner; the rest of the room was filled with canvases of all sizes. She moved from one to the other and realized that all of them were incomplete . . . incomplete, but revealing a rare touch of beauty.
"Why don't you finish them?" she asked innocently.
Amiee remained silent, watching Jason, who walked to a table that held a bottle of brandy. He poured a drink, drank
"I can imagine. Beth . . . no one stays here that can't or won't pull their own weight. We have to learn."
"Learn! To steal!"
"I suppose it comes down to that. We can't live on their efforts; they can't afford it."
"Then . . . you want to join them? Become a thief?"
Charity's gaze met Beth's steadily. "If it is the only way I can survive, yes. For now. I intend to find my own future. If it means I must do this for a while"Charity smiled"then I will be better at it than anyone else."
"Then . . . we'll be thieves together."
As Charity embraced Beth, both knew that what
they planned to do was a breach of their own standards. Yet both knew they had very little choice.
Within the next few months Charity and even a reluctant Beth learned to filch a purse from a man or woman with little effort. But Amiee taught much more than that. Charity's acting abilities were polished until she could pass for a lady in any circle.
Since most of the lucrative excursions were made in the late afternoon and early evening when shoppers and theater-goers were prevalent, Charity found her mornings free.
On such a morning Charity discovered Amiee dressing to go out. She realized then that Amiee often made these solitary excursions.
"Off again this morning?" she questioned with an innocence Amiee could see through at once.
"Yes, miss nosy, and if you want to come along, ask. Don't follow me like you did last week."
Charity had the grace to look sheepish. "You lost me within minutes. I wish I could be as good as that as you are."
"You haven't had a couple of bobbies on your heels yet. You will in time. Then you'll keep Piper's lessons in mind and learn to vanish."
"You really don't mind if I come along?"
"No. I'd enjoy your company." Amiee smiled and started for the door with Charity right behind her.
They left the Round, entering a street of houses that was neither shabby nor elegant. Amiee stopped before a large stone, two-storey house. But instead of
knocking, she opened the door and stood at the bottom of the steps.
"Jason! Are you decent?" she shouted. A masculine voice came from above.
"No! But that never mattered to you before. Come on up."
"I've brought a friend," Amiee said as she started up the steps. "And I don't want her corrupted by your questionable pictures."
"Questionable!" The voice came louder as they moved up. "On second thought, send her up and you go home."
Amiee was still laughing as she approached an open door and was met by a man who snatched her up in his arms and kissed her soundly. Then he let her go and turned to look at Charity.
"Well, well," he said softly. "Amiee, where did you get this beauty?"
"You're not going to paint her, so forget it."
"Nobody asked you," he retorted as he stopped to stand by Charity. "Of course, you'll pose for me. I paint angels better than anyone else."
"This is Jason Desmond, Charity. Don't trust him an inch."
"Hello, Mr. Desmond." Charity smiled up into friendly gray eyes.
Jason Desmond was tall, well over six feet. He towered over Charity. His auburn hair was thick and much too long to be fashionable. Still, it suited him. His smile was open, and she liked him at once.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, and no, I won't pose for you."
"Amiee's corrupted you. I'm as gentle as a lamb," Jason protested. "What's your name?"
"Charity. Charity Gilbert."
"Come in, Charity. Let me show you around."
Charity was ushered into a large room which was brightened by skylights. There was one battered couch in the corner; the rest of the room was filled with canvases of all sizes. She moved from one to the other and realized that all of them were incomplete . . . incomplete, but revealing a rare touch of beauty.
"Why don't you finish them?" she asked innocently.
Amiee remained silent, watching Jason, who walked to a table that held a bottle of brandy. He poured a drink, drank
Similar Books
