A Thief Before Christmas (8 page)

And he would owe me for this day's work. I grinned as I hauled my gold-laden skirts up a short stone staircase to gaze over the Thames, the last lines of
The Beggared Lord
booming out behind me. Grandfather had always worried too much about the dangers the cities held for our company. And for what? London had welcomed us with open arms—and pockets—and I'd never felt more right with the world.

As my skills had sharpened dramatically over the past several months, I'd proven my worth to the troupe twelve times over. Soon Master James would promote me to lead the street thieves, and then I could begin keeping a portion of our profits for myself. Within three years—fewer if we kept to larger cities—I'd have enough coin to live anywhere,
be
anyone.

That thought was almost too much to think about. I hugged it to me close, a hidden dream.

Then I straightened, pressing my hands to the small of my back to counterbalance my heavy skirts, as acclaim for the Golden Rose troupe thundered through the courtyard behind me. I had no time for dreaming. There were riches to be sorted and sold, and plans to be made for our next performance. Master James relied on me more with each passing day. And if he hadn't seen my work with Tommy, I'd be the first to tell him about it, and I'd bury my blushes in gold. Everything was moving forward the way it should, and I was at the pinnacle of my abilities: subtle, skillful, and—in my own way—wondrously free.

Two weeks later, they caught me.