“...Jack, having safely reached the ground with his treasures, ran to the shed behind his family's cottage,” Rose read aloud from Teddy's book of fables. “There he retrieved an axe. Dashing back to the beanstalk as swiftly as his little legs could carry him, he chopped down the towering plant, which prevented the giant from descending after him. Jack and his mother were safe. And as they were now in possession of a sack of gold coins and a goose that laid golden eggs, they were very, very rich. So, they lived in safety and comfort, together, for the rest of their days. The end.”

Teddy, who was seated next to her on the sofa so that he could see the illustrations, let out a little sigh of content. He leaned against Rose's side, his arm slung across her waist.

Rose closed the book in her lap. “So ends the adventures of our daring boy Jack,” she said, wrapping an arm around Teddy's petite shoulders. “I do love a happy ending, don't you?”

Teddy smiled and bobbed his head. “His mumma is proud of him?”

“Oh, very,” Rose said. “He saved their farm.”

“She gives him kisses and bedtime stories?” Teddy asked, looking up at Rose's face.

“I'm sure she does,” Rose replied. “Every day. She really loves him an awful lot, you know?”

“Because he's brave?”

“For many, many reasons,” she said, stroking the hair off of Teddy's forehead. “He's a kind, selfless, darling little boy, after all. Just like you.”

“I never met a giant,” Teddy said, his tiny voice matter-of-fact. “I'd be scared.”

“On the contrary,” Rose differed softly. Her mind went to William and his hold over all of Manchester. “You have met a giant. King of the giants. You're the bravest boy I know.”

Teddy tucked his head against Rose's shoulder, and she pressed a little kiss to his forehead. Any time spent with Teddy was a welcome reprieve among the rest of her interactions. She was able to take him at face value, unlike all the others with whom she was acquainted, save Daphne.

After her surprisingly successful interlude with James Gallagher that morning, Rose had gone to St. Mary's Church to see the refugees. Once there, she'd assisted a few of them in combing through the newspaper adverts for possible job postings, then she'd helped to serve lunch. She'd considered visiting Daphne, but knew her cousin was at work and likely slaving away on her article covering the benefit for the Clementine Mercer Institute. It was of no consequence, however. She would see Daphne another day.

Rose released a long, soothing breath. Teddy's little body felt warm and comforting as he snuggled next to her. He pulled the book of fables from her lap onto his and began perusing the illustrations.

Miss Pimms was seated across the room next to the wide parlor windows, diligently working on an embroidery sampler. “You have a lovely voice for reading aloud, Miss Rose,” she said. Her eyes were fixed on the delicate needle and thread, but her plump face smiled. “I can see why the little master prefers your readings to mine.”

“Oh, Miss Pimms, I hope you know I don't mean to overstep,” Rose said. The amount of time she spent acting as Teddy's nanny could quite easily be seen as intrusive to the stout au pair. “I'm well aware of your capabilities in performing your job duties.”

“Overstep?” Miss Pimms echoed. She glanced up and snorted a laugh. “You haven't! Even I love listenin' to you tell a story. You step in whenever you like. I have no issue with playin' second fiddle.”

Rose smiled at the nanny from across the room. “Thank you for that. I suppose I'm just hopelessly smitten.”

“Don't blame you for an instant, Miss Rose,” Miss Pimms said. “He's the dearest, most well behaved boy I've ever been hired to look after.”

Teddy glanced up from the book, his head swiveling swiftly back and forth between the two women. “Me?” he asked.

Rose and Miss Pimms shared a laugh. “Yes, you,” Rose confirmed. “Such a sweetheart.”

Teddy smiled and shrugged his little shoulders, seeming pleased.

Just then, Rose heard the rumble of a vehicle's approach. Untangling herself from Teddy as gently as she could, she made her way to the window and peered between the curtains at the front drive.

“William is home,” she remarked. “I really must speak with him.”

“My da'?” Teddy asked. He set the book aside and slid off the sofa.

“It would be best if I spoke with him alone first,” Rose said.

“Why?” Teddy asked with a dejected pout.

She knelt before the boy and adjusted his rumpled waistcoat. “Dull, dreary grown-up talk,” she said. “I'd hate to put you through that.” She stuck out her tongue in mock disgust.

Miss Pimms tucked away her embroidery and rose from her chair. “Come, Teddy. There's still over an hour of daylight left before sundown,” she said, reaching for the boy's hand. “Why don't we visit the horses?”

At the mention of the horses, Teddy immediately perked up and followed Miss Pimms out of the room without complaint.

As there was no doubt in her mind where William would be, Rose grabbed her reticule and made her way to his study. Sure enough, she found him seated at his desk behind a daunting stack of papers, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

He glanced up when she entered. “You're alive,” he commented offhand. “Haven't been kidnapped. Looks like you're still in one piece. Fancy that.”

“Were you worried about me?” Rose asked, a teasing quality to her voice.

“Worried? Nah,” William said with a wave of his hand. “Maybe a touch concerned. Productive day?”

“You could say that,” Rose said. She wore a kittenish smile as she approached his desk.

“That so? What else ‘could’ I say?”

“Well, James Gallagher may not like you,” she began. “Fortunately, he does like me.”

William's eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. “You met him?”

“I did,” Rose attested with a sly little nod.

“And you spoke with him?”

“I did one better,” she declared. “I was interviewed by him. And he hired me. As of tomorrow morning, I'm his new secretary! How about that?”

The cigarette fell from William’s lips, landing on the desktop with a muted plunk. “You're his new secretary?”

Rose plopped down on the chair in front of his desk and crossed her legs, a smile of satisfaction on her face. “Surprised?”

“Heh,” he uttered. Expelling a little breath, he retrieved the fallen fag, situated it between his lips, and lit the end. “Impressed, more like. May hafta replace Ransom with you, as my second.”

Rose's smile grew. Being able to impress William Mercer was a feat that brought her an odd sense of pride. “Well, bully for me,” she quipped. “All I need to do to secure the position is return at nine o'clock tomorrow morning with my references. Speaking of which, could you write me a fabricated letter of recommendation? Make me sound competent yet submissive. That should do the trick.”

William shook his head in clear amazement and pulled a sheet of stationery from his desk drawer. “Think I can manage that,” he said.

“Refer to me as Rose Appelbaum, if you would,” she instructed. “That's the name I gave.”

“Smart, Rose,” he said, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “Very smart. You learn anythin' of interest about Gallagher as of yet?”

“I did, as a matter of fact,” Rose said, taking the notepad from her reticule. “As he left the automotive repair yard this morning, he was in the company of a younger man. Well dressed, carrying an attaché case. Do you remember seeing him?”

“Aye,” William said as he began to write the letter. “I recall.”

“Well, he remained in Mr. Gallagher's company from the repair yard all the way to the factory. They entered together. I never caught a name, but his behavior was that of a solicitor. I'm sure Mr. Gallagher has one on retainer.”

She set the notepad on the desk in front of William and flipped to the page of interest.

“Between the repair yard and his factory, he and the solicitor stopped at these addresses and briefly spoke with individuals fitting these descriptions,” she reported, pointing to the list she had compiled. “None were known to me, of course, but the locations appeared to be small businesses. All of them. Do you recognize the names of any of these places?”

William inspected the list. “Not at a glance, no,” he replied. “But the fact that they're all located near Gallagher's factory suggests he's gonna try to buy them out. If he succeeds, he'll own that whole section of Manchester.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Rose mused, tapping her chin. “He's building an empire. Mimicking you.”

“How'd ya know he was lookin' for a secretary?” William asked.

Rose summarized the discussion she'd had with Mr. Cavendish at the tea shop. “...and apparently Mr. Gallagher has turned away all the other applicants because they weren't ‘high society’ enough for his taste,” she concluded. “But I seem to fit the bill. I gather that he's really trying to make a name for himself. Oh! And I discovered that he's married and has a son: James II. Or ‘Jimmy,’ rather. Mr. Gallagher said he's about my age and his sole heir. Someday, all the businesses and properties owned by Mr. Gallagher will belong to Jimmy.”

“Hmm,” William hummed. He paused in his writing, his face pensive. “A son. Interesting, that.”

“Hardly,” Rose scoffed. “I've seen Jimmy's photograph. He looks thoroughly insufferable. Not to mention arrogant.”

“Which could work in our favor,” William said, continuing with his letter. “Dependin' on the relationship between father and son.”

Rose considered this. “If I'm around Mr. Gallagher each day, I'll undoubtedly meet his son at some point,” she said. “I'm sure I'll also happen upon all manner of further information that could be of use. I'll make the acquaintance of people in his inner circle. Find out what kind of wages he offers his workers, etcetera. And once I know his schedule, I'd be happy to snoop around his office. I think subtlety is our best course of action here.”

“You're right about that,” William stated. “Aye. Subtlety. Gallagher can't have even the slightest whiff of suspicion about ya, understand? This is dangerous work. I need you to be careful, Rose.”

“I shall. I promise,” she assured him. “I have absolutely no interest in getting murdered, thank you very much.”

William chuckled under his breath. Having finished the letter, he signed the bottom of the page with a flourish. He then slid the sheet of stationery over to her across the desktop. “There. That should inspire him to believe you're the perfect candidate.” 

She took the letter and skimmed its contents. It was very convincing and flattering. And signed with a pseudonym. An...odd pseudonym.

“Ha!” she exclaimed. “What a curious name! Who is ‘William S. H. Peer’?”

William smirked like he was privy to a joke she wouldn't understand. “Oh, a man I see about a dog. On occasion.”

“Another William?” Rose asked.

“There are many Williams in England. Always have been.”

“It is quite a common given name, I suppose,” she granted, staring at the letters of the signature. Something about it seemed so familiar. “William S. H. Peer,” she murmured to herself. “William Sh…peer…” Recognition suddenly dawned on her, and she tutted at her employer's smug expression. “William Shakespeare?”

He laughed out right at that. “Clever girl. ‘A Rose by any other name would smell as sweet’.”

“Lovely. But don't you think Mr. Gallagher will figure it out?”

William snorted. “No.”

“Fair enough,” Rose granted with a little smile. “For the record, I like it. I'd have relished working for the Bard.” She shifted in her seat and gently folded the letter of recommendation into thirds. “I should go work out what to wear for my first day on the job,” she said. “Unless there was something else you wanted to discuss with me?”

“Just one thing,” William said. “Your engagement ring.”

On instinct, Rose's hand flew to the chain around her neck. “My what?”

William's eyes adopted a somber glint. “The two karat rock ya wear on that silver chain around your neck,” he specified. “Can't have that on ya while workin' for Gallagher. He might ask about your fiancé.”

“And you know about it how, exactly?”

“Left your diary lying around. Remember?”

Rose huffed. Oh, she remembered. “I keep the ring hidden,” she said defensively.

“Not well enough,” William countered. “I know it's there.”

Rose bristled where she sat. “Yes. Because you ‘skimmed a few sentences’ of my diary,” she snipped. “Mr. Gallagher hasn't.”

“It ain't about him,” William riposted, shaking his head. “It's about Manchester. It's about the fact that the tinkers who live here can smell it if a person's got a tenner more than he should. Workin' at a factory, carryin' on around low-class workers, your ring will get filched, Rose. And you could get hurt. Mark my words.”

A sickly sensation bubbled in Rose's stomach. The thought of being separated from her engagement ring caused her great distress. “You know the nature and intent of every person in town, do you?” she questioned, her voice tight.

“I know Manchester,” William said simply. “Everything valuable gets taken. That's why you gotta be careful, alright?”

Rose blinked at him in surprise. Was he saying she was valuable because she was the daughter of a Marquess? Or because she was doing a job for him? Or perhaps because he was beginning to value her as a person? Did it matter? He was right about the ring, and she knew it.

She gave him a stiff nod, and he held out his hand.

Her hands trembled as she gathered the chain from around her neck and set it upon William's open palm.

He pinched the ring with care between his thumb and forefinger and held the diamond close to his eye. Releasing a low whistle, he pivoted the gem so that it caught the light from the window behind him. “Men have had their throats slashed for far, far less,” he murmured. “I'm not gonna take that chance with you.”

With the aid of a small key, he opened the top drawer of his desk and set her ring inside. He then locked the drawer and returned the key to his pocket.

Rose found it difficult to inhale. Her lungs seemed determined to cause conflict with her desire to breathe. “That ring means a great deal to me. You promise it will be safe?” she asked.

“No one will touch it, Rose,” he vowed. “Not even me. The moment you're done with Gallagher, I'll return it to ya. You have me word.”

“Which is as good as sacred,” she murmured, reciting what he'd said to her at The Sparrow. “Yes. Very well.”

【♖】

Once she'd returned to her bedroom, Rose perused the contents of her wardrobe. For work the following day she needed an ensemble that appeared professional, tidy, and understated. Something that said she was trustworthy and discreet.

She had a navy blue dress that managed to be both fashionable and modest. Then there was a high-collared black dress with a little shell jacket. Both had A-line skirts. Both looked classy with nude stockings and heels.

“Hmmm…”

A sudden presence behind her caused Rose to startle and whirl around. Teddy stood in her open doorway, his large eyes watchful.

“Teddy!” she exclaimed. “You scared the very life out of me! We really must come up with a signal of some kind so that I know when you're coming.”

“Sorry, Miss Rose,” he mumbled in his elfin voice. “I didn't mean to.”

“No, no, that's quite alright,” she soothed, smiling down at his sweet face. “Come in. Since you're here, you can help me with a decision of monumental importance.”

“I can?” he asked. He blinked, seeming mystified.

“Indeed,” Rose said, stifling a giggle at his dubious expression. “I value your opinion more than any other in this house. Now, which do you like better?”

She held the pair of dresses aloft by their hangers so Teddy could see. His little face scrunched up in concentration as he looked from one to the other and back again.

“That one,” he said at last, pointing to the blue dress.

Rose gave him a resolute nod. “Blue it is. Thank you, darling.”

【♜】【♞】【♟】

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