The Wedding Runaway by Katy Madison

know. "
    " No , I do not know. When will you return home , Lenny? "
    " A few months , I suppose. " Although she missed her brothers and father , she didn ' t want to go home. Here she stood on her own two feet and made her own living , albeit as a ne ' er-do-well gambler. She didn ' t depend on any man ' s support. Her choices might be limited , but they were all her own. Where to live , what to eat , when to sleep , where to go. The freedom was heady.
    A woman always had to live in the shadow of a man , her very identity tied to his talents. Pretending to be a boy gave her a glimpse of life where she was valued for herself.
    Victor wore his habitual black , which both repelled and attracted her. His determination to take her to his tailor made her shudder. " I think when you are finished with me , I will look like an undertaker. "
    " Are you in mourning , cub? "
    " No. " Lydia stared at Victor. Was he?
    " Then there is no need for you to dress in black as I do. Is that why you are kicking up such a fuss? "
    " I don ' t need you to father me. "
    " I ' m not old enough to be your father. " Then he looked thoughtful. " On second thought , I might have managed it. How old are you? "
    She didn ' t think she wanted to try and claim her real age again. She didn ' t look like a twenty-one-year-old man. Instead she searched her head for an insult. " You act older than Methuselah. I think you were never young. "
    Victor winced and Lydia wondered if she had hurt his feelings.
    " Don ' t be insulting , Lenny. If you get too carried away, I shall have to call you out. "
    Lydia blinked. Call her out? Now he was insulted? " I take it back. You have no maturity at all. Who settles disputes with fights? "
    " Gentlemen do. "
    " Do you mean duels? " A chill of disquiet slid down her throat. At times the male creature was as foreign to her as the hills of China.
    " That or we could strip down at Gentleman Jackson boxing salon and go a few rounds , but that would hardly be sporting as I have several stone on you. "
    Not to mention that stripping down together in a boxing salon would be out of the question , although it might prevent a fight. She wanted to shrivel up and die.
    " No matter how elderly I may behave now , I never was so young I didn ' t take an interest in being properly clothed. Now are you worried about the expense? I shall take care of it. "
    " No , I can afford new clothes. " With the money she had won from him.
    " Then what is the problem? "
    Lydia couldn ' t tell him the real reason she didn ' t want to visit a tailor. The carriage halted and her heart jumped into her throat. Anything to delay the inevitable exposure. " Who...who are you in mourning for? " she asked.
    " My wife. "
    " Oh God , I ' m sorry ," she blurted.
    He turned and studied her as he descended from the carriage.
    Uh-oh , bad move. She shouldn ' t have been so gushy and emotional. Boys , men , weren ' t known for emotions. Women were.
    " Don ' t be. It was a release from a living nightmare , worse than any of the levels of Dante ' s Inferno. "
    Lydia stumbled down the carriage steps and looked through the window of a tailor ' s shop. Her heart thudded in her chest and her mouth grew painfully dry.
    " Don ' t repeat that , cub. "
    " No , of course not. " She willed back her panic by focusing on him. He had been married? He ' d had such a complicated past. At once she wanted to know more , yet that he ' d likened his marriage to the pits of hell made her wary. " How long ago did she...pass? "
    " Three months. "
    He rubbed the red mark on his forehead. In the daylight she could see it was a burn scar. The inch-long welt contained smooth reddened flesh at odds with the rest of his pale skin. How had he gotten it? He seemed to rub it when distressed. She wanted to ask more about his wife , but she could tell it bothered him.
    He turned and walked quickly into the tailor ' s shop. The bell above the door knelled out a sprightly death toll for her.
    The tailor in his