said.
âAll right,â Cates agreed after a moment, giving him a curious look. âThe Rose and Crown at noon. Weâll get a parlour.â He paused. âAre you sure itâs nothing bad?â
âDonât worry,â Lister said. âI just thought it would be better away from the warehouse or home.â
Cates sat back and gave a hearty laugh. âThe good things in life usually are.â
Rob finished his ale and stood up.
âGentlemen,â he said, and left.
The city was quiet, and a low, heavy moon hung over the horizon. As he walked home, hands pushed into the pockets of his breeches, Lister thought back to the afternoon with a smile. He and Emily had strolled out along the river, seeing the wild-flowers start to bloom and hearing the rich birdsong in the hedgerows. Heâd led her into a copse and pulled her close, kissing her hard and feeling her body pushing against his.
Theyâd stopped, the way they always stopped, the pair of them flushed and guilty. Heâd looked at her, seeing her eyes wide and expectant, her mouth so red. Heâd stroked her hair and rested her head against his shoulder. Finally, once his heartbeat had slowed again, heâd led her back out into the sunshine to continue their ramble. They said nothing, the pressure of her hand tight on his, her small, thin fingers grasping him.
Later, at her door, he held her again, their passions cooler as the evening scents rose from the ground.
âI love you,â she said. He smiled and rubbed his fingertips against her cheek.
âI love you,â he told her and gave a small, dry laugh. âSo now weâve said it.â
âI mean it, Rob.â Her voice was earnest.
âSo do I. Iâve never told it to anyone before,â he insisted. The men he knew didnât love. Instead they valued girls for their fortune or position, for their beauty or the slimness of their waists. This was different, a strange land where he had no language. âBut what do we do about it?â he asked.
âWe just love each other, thatâs all,â she answered confidently. âAnd we donât stop.â She stood on tiptoe, put her lips against his, smiling, then opened the door and vanished inside.
Heâd wandered back into Leeds feeling light and content, the gentle happiness still filling him as he unlocked the door on Lower Briggate. The smell of ink filled the place, seeping out of the room where his father wrote and printed the
Leeds Mercury
.
James Lister had purchased the newspaper the year before from the widow of its founder. Heâd already been writing for it, penning idle pieces of gossip that saw print each week, but his income was solid enough not to need the money. Taking on the whole business had been a gamble, but one that seemed to be paying off. The
Mercury
had increased its profit in the last twelve months, and Lister was slowly altering the balance of news to make it a respectable local press. Rob had worked for his father briefly, trying to learn the trade. But he had no way with words, the backwards letters of the press confused him and he had no desire to end up as a printerâs devil, hands black with ink.
He made his way softly up the stairs. His mother would already be in her bed, ready to rise early and supervise the servants on the Monday wash. A light was still burning in the parlour and he saw his father, sitting and waiting, waistcoat unbuttoned to let his ample belly spread, a book open on his lap. It would be Defoe, he was willing to put his wages on it. It was always Defoe.
âI didnât think youâd be so early,â James Lister said with a smile. âCome and sit for a little while.â
âIâm tired. Iâve been working.â
âAnd you were courting earlier.â Listerâs voice was gentle, almost laughing. âYou had the afternoon with Emily Nottingham, didnât you?â
âYes.â
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