Content warnings can be found here

Down in the kitchens, she was handed buckets of steaming water and practiced her flirting on the serving maids. By the giggles and the swatted hands, she guessed that it needn’t be much different to the kind of banter she had used when she’d been on the game.

Long before the bath was a reasonable depth, her stockings were a soaking wreck and there was water sloshed all down her shirt. The buckets felt like they were a hundred-weight each. Service, Peaches considered, making her way up the stairs for what seemed to be the twentieth time, was much overrated. From what she understood, most valets wouldn’t even get to share the water with their masters, let alone get a fuck out of it. She turned the corner on the stairs, hoping this would be her last trip and found Hedge blocking her way, looking grave. 

Drenched with now cooling water and running with sweat, she had to admit she was really not in the mood to face him, but these things never happened at your convenience. She set down the buckets, one, two, and then bowed. “Mr Hedge,” she said, keeping her voice gruff.

“Peach.” He gave no indication that he was planning on moving, so she just stood there, damp, while the buckets filled the air with steam. 

She waited. Waited some more.

 She was considering breaking the silence herself when Hedge said, “I do hope you have not been making an exhibition of yourself.”

“T… Uh, Mr Valance required a bath, sir.”

“My Lord Forthenby.”

“What? Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

“I suppose it will take some adjusting,” said Hedge, still resolutely blocking the stair.

“Yes,” she said. “Sir. Um, so if you don’t mind. My Lord really was hoping for a hot bath now.”

“Of course, I must not keep you,” he said, and did not move. Instead, he gave that magistrate’s look, the kind that fitted you to take a leap from the leafless.

She considered barging past him, but the stair was too narrow. Peaches made a note to find somewhere to hide her stiletto in future, then remembered that she was supposed to be a boy now, and besides, that kind of thinking was not suited to respectable inns. 

“I do wonder, though,” Hedge said, “how seriously you take the honour of your master.”

“His honour?”

“When, clad as you are, you are prepared to own yourself his man.”

She pressed her teeth together. If she had to do another water run because Farmer fucking Giles felt like lecturing her on respectability, she might just scream. “My Lord was not inclined to wait for his bath, sir. I felt I did not have much in the way of choice.”

“You should have summoned a maid, who would have drawn the bath for you.”

“And let one of them bawds see him in that state, sir?”

“I would ask you to repeat that in more seemly language, Peach.”

She tried not to sigh. “Mr Hedge,” she said, more respectfully than could really be expected in the circumstances. “My garb might be unfitting, but my Lord’s is ruined. I wouldn’t have him exposed to ridicule.”

“You think very fast, Henry Peach.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

“It was not intended as praise. It’s a trait I’ve found common among tinkers, thieves and ladybirds.”

It didn’t sound much like Hedge was fond of any of those categories, which made bosom friendship a prickly proposition.

“Wasn’t my intention to offend you, sir.”

“But you do. Your presence at his side offends me,” said Hedge. He leaned forward until his grizzled cheek was near Peaches’ own face, and whispered, “I know what you are Henry Peach.”

I very much doubt that. Not even Teddy knew what she really was. Peaches had always been careful to keep her cards close, and wasn’t above rigging the deck if the odds were high enough. 

“Don’t give me that insolent look, boy. My Lord is welcome to take his pleasure where he pleases. It’s my duty to know as many details as I might about the proclivities of the family Valence, and your master has hardly been discreet in his amusements. It is not my place to judge my betters. But you hear me, Henry Peach. I will not have the honour of the estate of Forthenby called into question by the actions of some little dolly renter.”

It took some effort to stop herself laughing in his face. They were standing so close she could feel his breath, and she was hardly passing in the most effective fashion. Was it possible that the steward of Forthenby was just a little short-sighted? “You needn’t worry about that, sir.”

“Needn’t I? My Lord has a very high opinion of both your devotion and your discretion, but I know your type, Peach, and let me tell you...”

“Mr Hedge,” she said in the roughest voice she could manage, leaning forward and knowing she should have brought the shiv to add verisimilitude. “Let me make one thing crystal. The honour the estate of Forthenby don’t mean a tinker’s fart to me, right? I care about precisely one thing in this world, and that is the wellbeing of one Edward Valance. Which means, Mr Hedge, that at the current moment we’re on the same side, ain’t we?”

Hedge said nothing.

“To that end, I am quite willing to learn to bow and scrape and whatever else you types get up to in your pigshit village, but,” and fast, fast as she had saved her own life more than once, she grabbed Hedge’s necktie and pulled it towards her with the kind of strength people always assumed she didn’t have. “Let me give you a warning, now.” 

Hedge was not struggling. Struggling would have upset the buckets, and he was too good a servant for that. The look on his face made it clear he thought receiving threats was just another part of his job. 

“Teddy Valance, swell though he might be, was the best man in London. And I won’t have a bunch of moon-raking yokels trying to tell him how to run his affairs, or otherwise giving him gyp. That clear?” 

Hedge looked grim. 

She tugged on the necktie a little harder. “And listen, mush. Dolly renter I might be, but Teddy’s dear to me in a way you lot can’t hope to understand. You try and turn him against me, you fucking spoil that fine nature of his? Well, you do that, and you got me to reckon with. Right?” And she gave his stock another tug.

“You don’t frighten me, Henry Peach.”

She nodded and pursed her mouth in the way she only did when she meant every word she said, “I weren’t trying to frighten you. I want to make sure we understand each other. You look after your estate’s honour, but you leave me to look after Teddy Valance.”

“You mean Lord Forthenby.” 

“No,” said Peaches. “I mean Teddy Valance. Because I get the impression they ain’t quite the same thing. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll get this water to my Lord before it’s stone cold.”

She let go, and Hedge stepped to one side, but as she passed him he grabbed her arm, sending another slosh of water down her side. His fingers dug in, bruising. “I have my eye on you, boy.”

“Mutual, Mr Hedge.” She dragged her hand free, feeling skin tear, “Quite mutual.”

Up in their room, Teddy was sitting on the bed with the parcel John had left and a look of boyish delight on his face. “There you are! Peaches, my sweet Peaches, what kept you?”

She kicked the door closed, “Flirting with the kitchen maids.”

“Lord, you’re a worse rake than I am. I approve heartily. But look at this! That Hedge has quite a nice idea of the ‘proper accoutrements of a gentleman’. Have a feel of this cloth.”

“My hands are sopping. I’ll whack this in the bath.”

“Yes. Should I help you?”

“You enjoy yourself.”

“You’re too good to me, Peaches. Here,” he called after her, as she poured the buckets into the tub, “But come on. Take a look at this.”

Arms aching, she turned around. Teddy was flexing a riding crop in his hands, black with a silver handle. Peaches whistled. The silver looked to be the real stuff, too, not something else shined up nice. “Just what we were after. I’ll have fun with that.”

“You’ll keep you rag-tag hands off it, Peaches,” he said, and swished it through the air with a teasing smile. “And look. Pistols.” He’d crossed them over his chest with an expression of perfect bliss.

Peaches nodded, “So I see.”

Teddy shrugged, clearly unimpressed by her lack of enthusiasm, “Flintlocks, alas. Old Hedge seems to be a traditionalist. Yet far better than my old Doxies, eh?” He set them down on the bed with everything else, his touch lingering on them just a moment too long. “John even managed to rustle up a livery for you, you know? I don’t know how they do it, these fellows.”

“I suspect money has something to do with it, Teddy.”

“Most likely. Now, how about this bath, eh, Peach?”

“Very good, my Lord.” She winked. “Would you like assistance undressing?”

He smiled, “If you would, Peach.” He rose from the bed with an expression that left her with no doubt at all as to his intentions.