Dad Hears My Thoughts novel · Chapter 30 of 32

Chapter 30: Royal Warrant

"Over a shop," I said.

Tristram let out a breath. "I hoped you'd say that."

Under the fur rug, the Duke opened one eye.

"You'll live in my house," he said. "You're my heir. Heirs live on the hill."

"Heirs can live where their wives can work," Tristram said.

"Your wife is Royal Cutter. She can have a workroom the size of my chapel."

"I don't want a workroom the size of your chapel," I said.

"I want my own wheel and my own stove and the widow next door."

The old man glared at me, and then at Tuppence, who was asleep on my chest with her mouth open.

"Then I'll come down on Sundays," he said. "Clean, and fed first."

He shut his eye again.

Ralph Harcourt was hanged three days later, at dawn, outside the palace gate.

Tristram went. He didn't ask me to come, and I didn't offer.

He came back up the Street of Lamps at seven with snow on his shoulders.

He didn't say anything. He went straight past me to the drawer by the stove and picked Tuppence up out of it, blanket and all.

He stood in my back room holding her for a long time.

Papa cold, she told us, patting his face. Papa sad gold.

"It's done," he said into her curls. That was all he ever said about it.

By nine he was behind my counter in his shirtsleeves, because he wanted to be.

A painter was up a ladder outside the window.

Under my father's old letters, Hawtrey, Cutter, he was painting a small gold crown and two more words.

Royal Cutter.

The first customer of the day was a steward in a viscount's livery, with a ring for sizing.

He stared at Tristram.

"My lord," he said. "I didn't expect to be served by the heir of Harcourt."

"You're not," Tristram said. "You're being served by the man behind the counter. Four shillings."

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