Read The Wicked and the Just for Free Online Page B

cloud of sweaty dust.
    At supper, we celebrate with a haunch of mutton with sage. The trestle is set properly with linens and pewterware. I sleep like a babe in arms in my own bed.
    God is indeed merciful to sinners.
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    Nicholas is here two whole days ere he works up the courage to lay out the terrible news. My thieving uncle Roger has posted banns. He will marry a girl half his age at midsummer. Which means there could be an heir to Edgeley Hall by next Easter.
    I could be stuck here forever. And there’d be naught to do for it.
    I wonder just how much penance I would have to do for praying her barren.
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    My father is taking his burgess oath ere the month is out. I have nothing to wear.
    There’s the green kirtle that was small on me last year, which hovers around my calves as though I’m a ratty little waif. I may as well brand UNMARRIAGEABLE on my brow. The yellow surcote has a gravy stain in the lap that no amount of fuller’s earth can remove, and the alkanet kirtle is barely fit for rags.
    My father cannot think I’ll stand before the whole town wearing one of these excuses for a garment.
    As soon as I’ve finished supervising Mistress Tipley doing the marketing, I go down the road to the common stable just within the walls. My cousin is there, brushing his palfrey.
    â€œNicholas.” I lean prettily on the stall. “You love me, do you not?”
    â€œI do, Cesspit. You’re my favorite cousin.”
    I’m also his only cousin, but that’s a tired jest. “How much do you love me?”
    Nicholas combs the horse’s flank with long, chuffing strokes. “Not enough to do whatever it is you want of me.”
    â€œI only need someone big and strong to escort me around this filthy place.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd . . .” I make my voice small and sweet. “And lend me the price of a new gown.”
    Nicholas pops up over the horse’s rump. “Hellfire, Cesspool, do I look like a man with the price of a gown?”
    â€œAll right,” I grumble. “Be mean and pinch your pennies. But come with me. Please? You’re going to miss me sorely.”
    He groans and tosses the comb onto a ledge, mumbling something unflattering about women. I let his remark fall, though. Doubtless he secretly likes ferrying me around. I must look fair upon his arm, and if Fortune favors him, people will mistake me for his sweetheart.
    We head up High Street and turn on Castle, where I spot a swinging sign bearing a faded ship. At the counter is a falcon-faced graybeard measuring cloth nose to fingertips. He looks up as we approach.
    â€œG’morn, my lord. Have you come for wool?”
    â€œSomething suitable for a gown,” I jump in, ere Nicholas can ruin things. “For a special occasion.”
    The merchant glances at Nicholas, who nods. Then the merchant turns to me and holds out the wool he’s been measuring. “There’s this, just back from the fuller. A good tight weave.”
    It’s just minnet. I frown. “What else have you?”
    â€œThis ochre is fair.” The merchant brings out a scrap.
    I pet it and it’s like sand. “Surely you’ve something better.”
    The merchant glances again at Nicholas. My cousin shrugs. Then the merchant holds up a finger and disappears into the shop. In a moment he’s back with the most beautiful bolt of finespun I’ve ever seen. It’s the color of fresh blood and as soft to the touch as a lapdog. I pet it and pet it. I cannot take my hands off it.
    â€œHow much?” I ask.
    â€œFifteen shillings a yard.”
    I blink. Even Nicholas looks a little stunned. Horses can cost less. “W-well, I’ll take it. My father will come with me on the morrow to settle up.”
    â€œBeg pardon, demoiselle, but without some kind of surety, I cannot hold the wool for you. I could sell it to half a dozen buyers by the morrow. It’s right off