“Every year I post a letter,” Sabina offered Roland. He looked up and pushed his empty plate away, his attention on her. “I can be declared dead after ten years of silence so I post a letter every year to prove that I am alive. That way my stepfather cannot take control of my father’s affairs, which includes my inheritance.”

Roland motioned to a boy and two coffees appeared in front of them.

“I can help you, Sabina,” Roland said quietly.

“You have already saved me so many times, Roland,” she replied softly. “My stepfather is dangerous.”

“So am I,” Roland said, and he looked very affronted when she snorted. His expression caused her to chuckle, belatedly remembering to keep her guffaw to a manly chuff.

“You are, I know you are, I’ve seen you fight, but the look on your face, Roland,” she chortled. “You have my gratitude, but this is my responsibility. I have borne it for ten years, there are only a few months left before I am twenty-five. Then I will contact my lawyers and finish this.”

She observed the mulish look on his face and was undeterred.

“You will call on me if you need assistance,” Roland finally insisted.

“Naturally,” she assured him. She would do no such thing but offered the lie while looking straight into his eyes. They finished their coffee just as the tavern became louder and drunker.

“Time to go,” Roland said, pushing back. “This would have been an excellent night for your fake spectacles. How on earth did you think anyone would look at your face and think you were a man, I don’t know.”

“It’s London. No one looks up at people’s faces here,” she replied and followed him out into the streets of Cheapside. Even with the smell and odd piles she needed to step around and the possibility of being robbed, this was a stolen moment of pleasure.

Sabina didn’t want to go back to the duke’s house. Even in her mind, she didn’t call it home, for she had lost her home to a fire in Hornsea. Now, though, this moment in time, she was free. Everyone at the duke’s house thought her abed. For one night, she was let loose from her burdens. She trusted Roland to bring her home safely and on time.

Neither of them rushed to seek a cab, enjoying the brisk walk through an oddly snowless December night. Abruptly, Sabina stopped, her head cocked.

“Oh, listen to that,” Sabina said.

****

Roland smiled down at her bright face. He heard the music too, buskers being common in this part of Cheapside.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in some second-rate musician presenting a third-rate opera?” Roland asked.

“It’s not a third-rate opera, it’s your opera,” Sabina smiled. “Rinaldo.” Roland groaned.

“God save me from French epics. A few minutes and then we must be off. I think I smell snow in the air. Mustn’t get caught in bad weather,” Roland warned.

“Music is never a waste of time,” Sabina said. “And you actually smell horse droppings but I’ll allow you your delusions.” They moved closer to the soulful violin just as a surprisingly good soprano launched into, “Lascia ch’io pianga.”

“That violinist is quite good,” Sabina whispered to Roland. “The soprano is drowning him out. If only they had a whole symphony. Once I heard the Chevalier De St. George conduct in Paris and I was never the same.”

Roland assessed her closely. The privilege of hearing an orchestra in Paris was not a cheap delight. Again he wondered who she was, and again he was certain she had never been a whore.

“Come with me,” Sabina said abruptly and grabbed Roland’s hand.

Only slightly alarmed, Roland let himself be led through some foul alleys and up some slippery steps, then through a building. He was almost certain Sabina had never been here before but she took the turns and stairs with a determination he dare not forestall.

Then, they exited a door onto a roof. Roland picked up the thread of the music again, clear and sweet.

Roland followed his lady to the edge of the roof and watched her take in the song as the notes floated upward into the fetid night air.

“Why up here?” Roland asked her.

“The music rises and up here, you can feel like you’re alone above the clouds, carried away by waves of heaven.” Sabina tilted her head to the notes. The woman was not intent on seduction, Roland knew that in his bones. Nonetheless, she was doing a damn fine job of it.

“Have you been to the theater since you’ve been in town?” he asked.

“Oh, no, the duke is not a music lover, so we do not attend, which is a shame. A good orchestra raging into a symphony is my weakness,” Sabina said.

Suddenly, he wished to see her face at the opera. He wanted her gowned in velvet, only to be concerned with the spectacle in front of her, and not inheritances or her own safety. This is not the life she was meant to lead.

****

She blamed the music. The music made her foolish

Sabina could not understand the words but she felt the music. It did things to her, made her feel things that were unwise.

But it was after dark in London and no one could tell her what to do. Sabina turned and looked up at Roland’s face. He was not a handsome man but he had always been so attractive to her, from that stubborn jaw to the thoughtful eyes that looked at her searchingly.

“Would you be terribly affronted if I kissed you?” she asked.

“You didn’t ask the time before.” He grinned, reaching for her.

“Are you going to make me apologize?” Sabina responded, enjoying his hands on her. She loved his hands. He could repair her windows, handle a gun, guide a horse, hold her steady.

“No, I beg you to do it again.”

“I’m not very good at it,” Sabina warned, placing her hands on his chest.

“Well, then I think you should get some practice.”  Roland bent his head down to her lips. “I humbly offer myself as a test subject.” 

Sabina went up on her toes to meet his lips and smiled as they kissed. This was so right, possibly the only thing in her life that was good and hers. She opened her lips and touched her tongue to his lips, letting herself into his mouth with a delight that bordered on joy.

She heard his breathing and remembered to breathe herself as she explored the ways they could kiss. Her arms found their way around his neck and he had backed her to a stone block that she had not seen before on the roof.

It wasn’t enough. Sabina couldn’t help the frustrated noise that came from her and she slid a hand down to cup the erection bulging the front of his breeches.

“Lord, Sabina, have mercy, woman.” Roland broke away from her to gasp.

“I need you,” she breathed heavily. “I need this.”

“I’m not going to take you on a bloody roof,” Roland said, then pulled her in for another drugging kiss.

“Then I’ll take you.”