open onto the balcony that overlooked Portsmouth Square. When she stepped farther into the room Berkeley could see part of the scaffold she had noticed earlier. She pressed the side of her face against the glass and watched the workman smooth linseed oil into the wooden goddess's hair. At least he had finished polishing her breasts.
Stepping away from the glass, her cheeks washed with a faint rose color, Berkeley walked to the fireplace. Imported marble tiles made up the lintel and jambs. The mantel was a single piece of polished walnut that blended seamlessly where it met the inlaid panels that completely covered the wall. A pair of brass sconces that still required their globes to be safely functional, flanked the mantelpiece. Above the walnut wainscoting that trimmed the rest of the room, flocked wallpaper in two shades of blue had been chosen to keep the quarters from being too dark or close.
Berkeley pointed to the door set in the wall on her right. It was open a crack. "May I?" she asked.
"Of course. Look anywhere you like."
She supposed that if he had already furnished his apartments, he would not be so quick to extend an invitation, or at least he would feel compelled to follow her around. Berkeley knew she didn't present an appearance worth trusting. It wasn't only the fish odor that clung to her, but weeks of sleeping in alleys and scraping meals from refuse piles behind the eateries. If she had had the luxury of washing in the bay a hundred times a night, it couldn't have removed the desperate edge that poverty had given her. She wouldn't whore for Grey Janeway, but she wouldn't think twice about stealing from him.
Berkeley slowly circled the adjoining room. It would be a small library when it was finished. The shelves were in place, though lacking even a single book. Beyond that was what Berkeley suspected would be the bedroom. A bench had been built below the bay window that filled almost the entire wall, and there was also a door that led to the hallway. A dressing room completed the suite. It was narrow by the standards set by the previous rooms but still big enough to hold a massive armoire and a dressing table. The armoire was empty, and the table held no personal items.
Berkeley walked back into the bedroom. Grey was waiting for her, casually leaning in the doorway that led from the library. "Is it what you expected?"
She hadn't given a thought to expectations. There was no denying it was a grand place, but then she would have been satisfied with a dry floor and roof that didn't leak. She didn't answer his question because she couldn't. "Is this where I'll be staying?"
Still watching her closely, Grey shook his head. "No."
Berkeley looked down at the floor to conceal her disappointment. Why had he brought her here if he didn't mean to give her shelter?
"You'll have a room down the hall."
Her head bobbed up. Her eyes were mirrors for her gratitude and her relief. "Do you mean it?"
To be on the receiving end of so much appreciation was a bit daunting. Grey's answer was clipped. "I just said so, didn't I?" He regretted his tone when he saw Berkeley flinch, but he didn't apologize. She didn't seem to be able to understand the enormous responsibility that she presented and that he didn't necessarily welcome it. Until this morning at the wharf, he'd made a point to avoid commitments that weren't totally related to business.
The tabby chose that moment to sprint into the bedroom. Her attention was immediately caught by the shaft of sunlight coming in through the window. She pawed at a dust mote that appeared to be suspended in the beam. Shaking his head, Grey watched the cat's antics for a moment. This was the Sydney Ducks' real revenge, he decided. His brief encounter with them had left him in charge of a lunatic cat and a singularly curious young woman. The Ducks could be very pleased with their morning's work. Without much effort they had managed to disrupt his life completely.
Berkeley reached for
Stepping away from the glass, her cheeks washed with a faint rose color, Berkeley walked to the fireplace. Imported marble tiles made up the lintel and jambs. The mantel was a single piece of polished walnut that blended seamlessly where it met the inlaid panels that completely covered the wall. A pair of brass sconces that still required their globes to be safely functional, flanked the mantelpiece. Above the walnut wainscoting that trimmed the rest of the room, flocked wallpaper in two shades of blue had been chosen to keep the quarters from being too dark or close.
Berkeley pointed to the door set in the wall on her right. It was open a crack. "May I?" she asked.
"Of course. Look anywhere you like."
She supposed that if he had already furnished his apartments, he would not be so quick to extend an invitation, or at least he would feel compelled to follow her around. Berkeley knew she didn't present an appearance worth trusting. It wasn't only the fish odor that clung to her, but weeks of sleeping in alleys and scraping meals from refuse piles behind the eateries. If she had had the luxury of washing in the bay a hundred times a night, it couldn't have removed the desperate edge that poverty had given her. She wouldn't whore for Grey Janeway, but she wouldn't think twice about stealing from him.
Berkeley slowly circled the adjoining room. It would be a small library when it was finished. The shelves were in place, though lacking even a single book. Beyond that was what Berkeley suspected would be the bedroom. A bench had been built below the bay window that filled almost the entire wall, and there was also a door that led to the hallway. A dressing room completed the suite. It was narrow by the standards set by the previous rooms but still big enough to hold a massive armoire and a dressing table. The armoire was empty, and the table held no personal items.
Berkeley walked back into the bedroom. Grey was waiting for her, casually leaning in the doorway that led from the library. "Is it what you expected?"
She hadn't given a thought to expectations. There was no denying it was a grand place, but then she would have been satisfied with a dry floor and roof that didn't leak. She didn't answer his question because she couldn't. "Is this where I'll be staying?"
Still watching her closely, Grey shook his head. "No."
Berkeley looked down at the floor to conceal her disappointment. Why had he brought her here if he didn't mean to give her shelter?
"You'll have a room down the hall."
Her head bobbed up. Her eyes were mirrors for her gratitude and her relief. "Do you mean it?"
To be on the receiving end of so much appreciation was a bit daunting. Grey's answer was clipped. "I just said so, didn't I?" He regretted his tone when he saw Berkeley flinch, but he didn't apologize. She didn't seem to be able to understand the enormous responsibility that she presented and that he didn't necessarily welcome it. Until this morning at the wharf, he'd made a point to avoid commitments that weren't totally related to business.
The tabby chose that moment to sprint into the bedroom. Her attention was immediately caught by the shaft of sunlight coming in through the window. She pawed at a dust mote that appeared to be suspended in the beam. Shaking his head, Grey watched the cat's antics for a moment. This was the Sydney Ducks' real revenge, he decided. His brief encounter with them had left him in charge of a lunatic cat and a singularly curious young woman. The Ducks could be very pleased with their morning's work. Without much effort they had managed to disrupt his life completely.
Berkeley reached for
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