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“Not yet. But if you don’t behave today …”

“I will, I promise!” He made the sign of crossing his heart.

But when he then reached for a third slice of toast, she caught his hand. “You’ve had enough. The loaf has to last us the week.” She coughed into her handkerchief, cursing whatever dye the dyeworks was producing today that aggravated her asthma more than usual. “And Maman hasn’t yet had any this morning.”

Just then, Maman came up behind them. “Hasn’t had any what?” she asked in her thick French accent. Maman had been working on bettering her English ever since she’d met Papa.

“Toast,” Eve said. “We have butter for once. You should eat.”

“You eat it, my dear. Mrs. Beckford always offers me pastries when I take her gown for the fitting, so I will eat there. And while I’m gone, be sure to watch your brother.”

“Of course. Speaking of Jimmy …”

Jimmy kicked her under the table, and Eve glared at him.

Maman sighed. “What has the scamp done this time?”

“Nothing.” What a blatant lie. “I was just wondering if I could take him with me over to Lincoln’s Inn Gardens again, so I can pick some sprigs of holly off their bushes to use as models for my new Christmas design. We … er … didn’t make it there yesterday.” Unfortunately, such a long speech meant she had to cough repeatedly afterward.

Maman frowned. “Your asthma is bad today, no? I shall purchase more thorn apple mixture at the apothecary on my way home.”

“We can’t afford—”

“Mrs. Beckford will pay us well. She liked your embroidery design, and I know will love the finished gown.” Maman chucked Eve under the chin as if she were still a child. “You must have your herbs. It helps you breathe, no?”

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. Because her own mother had died bearing her, her stepmother was the only mother Eve had ever known. Eve loved her dearly.

“I only wish we could live somewhere better than this, but the rent is so cheap—”

“That’s all that matters. Perhaps once we finish these latest gowns for Mrs. Beckford, we can look for a better place.”

“Perhaps. And yes, of course you may take your brother to pick holly.” Maman lifted the huge case she kept gowns in and headed for the door. “Just keep an eye on the little scamp.”

Ever since Maman had heard the word “scamp,” she used it often to describe Jimmy. Which was certainly appropriate.

Maman opened the door, then hastily closed it again. “There’s a man in the alley, Eve,” she whispered in French. “He’s staring at your latest pattern on the wall.”

Eve ran to their only other downstairs room, which acted as their sitting room. The window in it looked out onto the wall of the dyeworks, where she generally sketched all her embroidery designs. And standing between her and the wall was—

“Jimmy, you … you scoundrel!” she hissed as she hurried back into their kitchen/dining room. “You told him our address?”

Jimmy was polishing off the last piece of toast. “Oh, is the gentleman here?” He jumped up. “P’raps he’ll take us to the gardens in his carriage!”

“Is that the man James was telling us about last night?” her stepmother asked Eve.

“Mr. Davenant, yes.” Eve sighed. “I didn’t want him to see how we live.” Although he’d genuinely seemed sympathetic about the parts of their situation she’d revealed. Still, she feared that one more truth laid upon the scale would tip the balance of their worth in his eyes, making him return to being the thoughtless, self-important fellow he’d been in her youth.

Maman shrugged. “If he looks down upon us, it’s best to know that now.” She opened the door to peek out. “Your young man is very handsome, from as much as I can see of him. And he must be rich. That greatcoat alone—”

“Maman! He’s not my young man.” Though he was, indeed, attractive. She hadn’t thought so at thirteen, but he was leaner than she remembered, and far more solemn. His head of unruly raven curls made her think of King Arthur of old. Not to mention those blue eyes of his, the color of cloudless skies … Oh, heavens, a woman could die happy in them.

“I believe you could make him your young man if you wished. He found you here, didn’t he?”

“It means nothing,” Eve said, remembering how fiercely he’d gripped Jimmy’s arm yesterday, terrifying her that he would drag her brother off to the constable.

“Come, dear. Introduce me.” Maman’s face darkened. “Unless you’re embarrassed to be seen with your French maman.”

“Never.” Eve kissed her cheek. Steadying her shoulders, she walked outside, followed by Maman and Jimmy. “Good morning, Mr. Davenant.”