Olivia Twist(53)

Jack watched Olivia duck like a turtle into her neckcloth, and then speed ahead. He had no clue what was in that girl’s head, but he was about to find out.

In two long strides, he reached her side.

“Hey,” Jack whispered and pulled the ratty kerchief down, revealing her delicate nose and mouth. God in heaven, she was beautiful. She’d completely smudged the soot-whiskers he’d again painted on her cheeks. But he didn’t even see the black streaks or the ratty wig anymore.

“I’m sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that—”

“Shh. I was going to answer you, but you didn’t give me the chance.” He quirked one side of his mouth in a teasing grin.

She returned his smile, dimples appearing in both of her cheeks, and Jack had to fight the impulse to push her against a wall and kiss her senseless. Instead, he cleared his throat and glanced around the shadowed alley. “Let’s keep moving.”

Once they were on their way, he continued his tale. “After the incident with Daniel, I became like a machine. Taking on more and more kids, training them, saving every shilling I could scrape together. Protecting my turf with a vengeance. All with the aim of escaping the life and making my way to the country. I didn’t care a whit if I had to muck out stalls for the rest of my life . . . I knew I had to get out of that hellhole. It was around that time that I heard a rumor Leeford had been killed by a group of vigilante beaks, and with the reputation I was building, I feared I might be next.

“I’d saved just about enough, when I robbed an eccentric old woman who caught me red-handed.”

“Lois March?” Olivia exclaimed, her eyes wide as teacups.

“Eh, she did. And no one was more shocked than I. But the old biddy is smart as a whip. Instead of turning me over to the beaks, she offered me a position in her household. If I would rob her toff friends and split the profits with her, she’d teach me how to be a gentleman and allow me to live in her posh townhouse as her long-lost nephew.”

“But why would she do such a thing? She didn’t need the money, did she?” Olivia tucked a clump of her wig behind her ear, exposing the fine lines of her cheekbone and jaw. It completely blew her disguise, but Jack didn’t care. He couldn’t seem to get enough of looking at her.

“Ah, but she did. Her husband died and left her with more gambling debt than she had the means to pay. When I moved in, she only had one servant left in her house. Clyde, the old butler, hadn’t been paid in half a year, but stayed out of loyalty. They’d sold everything of value in the house, and were preparing to sell the place when I arrived.” Jack laughed as he remembered those first few years. “My pickpocketing skills kept her out of debtor’s prison, but I know she despaired of ever turning me into a gentleman. We got into some nasty rows, to be sure. Being proper is far too much work.”

Olivia chuckled and nodded in agreement. “My uncle and I had some similar moments. It took him months just to teach me to walk and sit like a girl.”

“I’ll bet.” He shook his head as he recalled the scrappy kid he had once known. She’d fooled him good, and that wasn’t easy to do given observation was his profession. “It’s still hard for me to think of you as that little urchin I saved from Madam Riceworth.”

Her gaze swept over him, her lips curling up. “We may both look different, but deep down we’re the same, aren’t we? Still searching for acceptance and security.”

Their gazes locked and Jack felt something unleash in his chest. She’d asked him earlier what he wanted. And he’d spouted the drivel he’d been telling himself for as long as he could remember. But she was right, he longed for so much more than just a place to rest his head.

“Finish your story, please,” Olivia prompted, tugging his thoughts back to Lois.

“Er . . . yes.” He forced himself to look away from her and back into his recent past. “Finally, one day, it all clicked. I realized if I ever wanted to put my old life behind me, I would have to become someone different. So I allowed Lois to shape me into the perfect Irish gentleman.”

Desperate to lighten the mood, he jogged ahead and, umbrella in hand, swept into a deep bow. “Jack MacCarron the Third, at yer service, lassie.”

“Oh, you’re Scottish now?” Olivia laughed, and he felt a bit of the darkness that lived inside him fall away.

“Just a wee bit, on me mother’s side.”

She grinned up at him and looped her arm through his. They walked side by side and a pleasant silence fell over them. Every moment he spent with her felt like a transformation. As if he were changing again, only this time he was becoming the person he was underneath the fa?ade. With Olivia, he didn’t have to be the Dodger, or the gentleman; he was just Jack. With her, he didn’t have to hide.

He glanced at her profile, and his pulse throbbed a little faster, every place where she touched him buzzed with life. And he found himself wishing for the impossible. That he wasn’t just a jewel thief with a manufactured lineage, but someone who could offer her the future she deserved.

Acceptance and security.

After he pulled off the Grimwig heist, he would have enough saved to purchase a small cottage, and he wasn’t above doing hard work. Good Lord, he’d labor in the bloomin’ fields if he could spend all his spare moments with Olivia. He could imagine their life together . . . long walks in the countryside, cozy evenings by the fire . . . no more stealing, or fear of the noose, just an honest life filled with laughter and love.