The Peculiar Pets of Miss Pleasance (3 page)

5

A knock woke Frannie the next morning. She rose and stretched, a little achy from sleeping on the downstairs parlor couch, as her bed was a wet, smoldering mess. The ache in her heart was heavier than usual. With Bertram and her father gone, there was no man about the house to help with repairs. The knock came again, and she realized she had slept late for the first time in years. Remembering the basket of kittens clutched to her chest the night before in the name of modesty, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders as a shawl before pushing past the curtain into the sad mess of her too-empty, too-quiet shop.

Looking through the glass window, she saw a beggar child standing at her door. Beside his patched, overly large boots stood a familiar, dignified crow. A filthy bit of twine was tied to the creature’s leg, and when she opened the door, it stared up at Frannie like an affronted duke come face-to-face with a servant.

The child sneered up at her, and the Copper standing slightly behind him said, “Go on.”

“Found yer bird,” the child muttered.

“Found it and tried to make a pretty penny, more like. Thought it might belong to you, miss. Have you had any thefts?” He stared down at the child almost hungrily, as if hoping for a reason to take the scamp into the station.

Frannie knelt and held out her arm. The crow gladly hopped to her, rubbing its beak gratefully along her sleeve. Even if it had been stolen, she wouldn’t have turned the poor ragamuffin over to the Coppers for what passed as interrogation these days.

“Not stolen. There was a fire last night, and I began freeing the animals in case the Brigade couldn’t stop it in time. Would you brave gentlemen care for some biscuits as a reward for returning him?”

“Money’d be better,” the child grumbled, but the Copper thumped him on the head and said, “That’s awfully kind of you, miss.”

Frannie set the bird on its perch by a fresh bowl of seed and hurriedly fetched some ladyfingers from the parlor, along with some of the lemon drops she kept around for her customers’ spoiled children. The Copper regarded the shop with narrowed eyes as he nibbled his biscuit, and Frannie was relieved when he yawned and moved toward the door. When he stepped outside, she slipped the candy and a coin into the child’s hand and whispered, “A copper for any more pets you bring. Pets, mind. Won’t pay for nuffin’ wild. Spread the word, eh?”

The child’s eyes went bright as he nodded craftily. The candy and the coin had already disappeared.

Once they were gone and the raven settled back in, she set to work upstairs, mopping up the water and dumping the ruined bedclothes and rug and singed curtain scraps out the broken window. She knew well enough that they would be snatched up within moments by the less fortunate. There were plenty of people in London who had nothing and wouldn’t mind the burn holes. Studying what was left of her room, she tallied up what she would need to make it livable again. Money was tight, and she’d have to visit the secondhand shops. It had been years since she’d had anything like new.

When she went downstairs for the parlor broom, she found a disheveled but dressed Casper steadily going about her chores. He was halfway through scooping out the puppy bin, his face a decided shade of green.

“You’re alive, then,” Frannie said sharply.

He glared at her, the whites of his eyes as pink as pickled eggs. “Did I dream it, or was the shop on fire at some point in the night?”

“Ah, yes. It was, actually. You did your part to save dozens of animal lives by turning over in bed and knocking over a parrot. Well done. You’re on your way to earning your keep.”

“I’ll pay for the room.” She raised her eyebrows. “When next they pay me.”

“Don’t drink it away this time.”

“I didn’t drink it away. I have an unusual . . . condition. It requires a special medicine that’s very expensive, and—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” She held up a hand and went back to sweeping.

He looked properly chastened and set to scooping up bedding with renewed vigor as corgis tumbled all over the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. She noticed an inked mark on his forearm, a raven with a key, but she was too scandalized at seeing a man’s skin during daylight to ask about it.

“You don’t know any carpentry, do you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Outside of music and puppy wrangling, I’m utterly useless. Sorry.”

“No other skills whatsoever?”

He looked down, and she couldn’t help noticing again the smeared marks of rouge on his chest. “Let’s just say I use my hands for softer things.”

She snorted and raised an eyebrow at him. He was so much like Bertram that it was almost ridiculous. Pretty and spoiled. Casper finished with the puppies and stood, and she put a glass bottle in his hand.

“The kittens in the basket need to be fed. There should be enough here to fill all their tummies. They’ll make a mess right after, so make sure to put them in their bin of hay.”

He looked at the creamy milk and laughed. “Not the kind of bottle or cathouse I’m used to, but I think I can do that much. Are you leaving?”

“I’ve things to replace, after the fire. I’ll lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone.”

“You don’t trust me to sell animals?”

Looking him up and down, she said, “This establishment is called Needful Creatures, not Pathetic Mutts. Have a bit of pride, man.”

She left him there, barefoot and staring at the bottle as if it was a foreign artifact.

Frannie returned just before ten. The folding cart behind her was mostly empty. Things seemed to cost more than they once had. The curtains were drab, and the sheets were thin, but they would do. That would have to be good enough.

The door was unlocked, which set her immediately on the defensive. Two male voices were raised within, which was one more nonbird voice than she could allow.

“What the blazes—”

Casper and a familiar-looking man stopped their nose-to-nose arguing and stared at her. They were both covered in kittens and bristling all over like two male dogs that had sniffed each other’s bum and not liked what they found.

“I told him. I told him I wasn’t supposed to let him in. But that crazy old biddy next door sent him around back,” Casper said.

The big man leaned back and tried to cross his arms over a wide chest, but he was hampered by a tiny calico crawling up his jacket. He stifled a smile and cleared his throat, and that’s when Frannie realized it was Thom, the fireman from the night before. He looked different out of his uniform and not coated in sweat and soot. His skin still carried the kiss of a sun more fiery than Sangland had seen, but his hair fell to his shoulders in clean waves, and his cheeks were neatly shaved. And she hadn’t met a man in a skirt before—not that it wasn’t a very manly skirt.

He must have caught her staring at his knees, for he said, “Edinburgh, in case you’re curious. Took to the sea as soon as I could and never looked back. Especially not when a wee cockerel like this one tries to turn me away from an obligation. Speaking of which.” He snapped open an odd, fur-covered bag around his waist, and a parakeet flew out in a tizzy to screech at him from the rafters.

Frannie could only stare at the little yellow and green bird. “How in Sang did you manage to catch a parakeet in London?”

A grin lit up his face. “Told you I was good at catching things. Shall we go out and find some more of your wee pets?”

She stared at Casper, noting that he was fully dressed and clean, at least, his hair brushed and tied back and his boots pulled on. Did she trust him alone at the shop? No. But there was something mighty fetching about the fireman and his strange ways. And the earlier she went out to search for the lost pets, the better the chance of finding them in one piece. Frannie bit her lip and considered. What if someone came in for a kitten or a puppy? Casper didn’t know when they’d been whelped, what their bloodlines were, or what they liked best to eat. She needed every copper she could get from their sale.

“I’m afraid I can’t this morning,” she said sadly. “I can’t close shop, you know. Especially now that there’s things to replace.”

His brow creased, and he handed her the calico kitten that perched on his shoulder.

“There wasn’t much damage, aye? The window and a bit of the bed? Can your lodger not take care of such things?”

Frannie shook her head, and Thom gave Casper a withering look. The musician had his back turned as he sipped from a flask and missed the entire exchange.

“I’ll bring the necessary materials,” Thom said. “Will tomorrow morning at dawn suit?”

“How much?”

He raised one eyebrow, affronted. “A home-cooked meal would be a fair trade. Nothing but wrappies down at the station, and bad ones at that.”

She cocked her head at him, but he seemed so earnest. “If I might ask, why are you being so kind to me?”

Thom gave her a look that seared her down to her toes, a spark lighting unexpected tinder. Looking down and clearing his throat, he extracted a kitten from his boot. “Ye seem like a good-hearted woman, is all.”

“That might be true. And I could use the help, to be sure. But only if you let me reimburse you.” She plucked the kitten from his hands and stroked its tiny back until a purr started up. “And only if it’s not too much bother. Fighting fires all night must be rather exhausting. And surely you have a family.”

Thom’s face went dark. “Not anymore. I do a bit of handyman work when I can. Keeps me from brooding.”

“We mustn’t get too broody,” Frannie said, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Dawn it is.”

“An ungodly hour,” Casper tossed over his shoulder.

Thom snorted. “Ye strike me as an ungodly man, lad. Best buck up and grow a pair.”

With a last nod at Frannie, Thom left.

“What’s with that guy?” Casper asked. “Barging in here like he can fix everything?”

“What’s wrong with
you
?” She advanced on him, waving a gloved finger in his face. “Sleeping through a near tragedy, useless to help clean up the mess. Call yourself a man?”

Casper’s lips pulled back, and he let out a warning hiss that drove her blood cold. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” he said, low and deadly. “Where I came from or what I am. Don’t you dare compare me to some beefcake sailor who pretends he’s a gentleman so he can slip under your skirts. Here’s my week’s rent, by the way. If that agreement still stands?”

He held out a paper tube of coins, and she took it numbly. Of all the things she’d expected of Bertram’s doppelgänger, rage and riches weren’t on the list.

“This is too much.”

“Keep it. Money is one thing I don’t lack.”

“Then why were you kicked out by your last landlord?”

“I—”

The rage fell from his face, and he simply looked like a lost little boy. One hand went unconsciously to the pocket where she knew he kept his flask. He recovered quickly and flashed his dimples. The practiced grin didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let’s just say my illness took me poorly. I had a fit. But I’m better now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I will be.”

The coins filled Frannie’s fist, far more than what she’d asked. She couldn’t toss him out now. Perhaps having a lodger wouldn’t be so bad, if he made a habit of actually paying extra. So long as he didn’t discover the hidden door in her closet, and so long as he kept to himself and didn’t have any fits, it might work out.

“You must be very talented,” she murmured.

He glanced up at her, mouth open in surprise. “You’ve honestly never heard my music? I thought everyone in London went to musicales and balls and shows. I assumed that was why you rescued me that day. Because you recognized me.” She shook her head, and he muttered, “Of course. The resemblance to your brother.”

“I don’t go out,” she said. “My parents didn’t approve of public displays.”

He smiled his charming smile, but with feeling this time.

“Would you go out for a good reason? I’m playing the Vauxhall this Friday night, and it’s kind of a big deal. I’ve been challenged by an upstart little twerp who thinks he invented the harpsichord. We’re going to have a duel.”

“A duel?” Her hand went to her throat, her heart dropping to her feet and her entire body going numb.