"I do bad things. But you already know that."
~ Thomas Shelby
A tragic misunderstanding. A murder. A secret. An unlikely partnership.
When the disappearance of a Russian refugee brings Lady Rose MacClare to the doorstep of Thomas Shelby, neither par...
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Rose awoke the next morning with puffy eyes and an ache in her body the likes of which she hadn't felt since the death of Atticus.
She longed to curl into the fetal position, pull the duvet over her head, and ignore the rising sun, but the need to escape the house before seeing Thomas was too great. On top of that, she couldn't be tardy for her second day of work. Mr. Gallagher may sack her, or worse, become suspicious.
Cold water splashed onto her face made some improvement to the puffiness, and the application of mascara and rouge graduated her visage to something akin to attractive. However, the sadness in her eyes remained.
Forcing a smile onto her lips, Rose finished tidying up, selected a lavender dress from her wardrobe, and tiptoed down the stairs to find Thomas' driver.
Once in town, Rose had the driver drop her off a block from the factory rather than near her cousin's flat. She had about as much desire to see or converse with Daphne as she had to see or converse with Thomas. Rose didn't know what Thomas had said to her cousin to make her betray one of Rose's deepest, most damning secrets, but it must have been something that shook the very foundation of her world.
At the present moment, however, as callous as it may seem, Rose didn't care. Juvenile, perhaps, but her anger and pain had not subsided nearly enough to pursue a conversation or explanation. She would seek Daphne out when she could once again bear to look at her.
It was far too early to go directly to the factory, so Rose took a detour to the Cavendish Kettle for some breakfast. Much as her stomach continued to rebel against her, she knew she would need sustenance to make it through the day ahead.
"Miss Aldridge! 'Morning!" Mr. Cavendish greeted her as she entered the tea shop. He was wiping down his counter with a rag, but paused to give her a smile. "Turnin' into one o' me best customers, ya are. What can I get ya?"
Rose cast him with a weary smile of her own. "Good morning, Mr. Cavendish. Eggs, over easy. And the strongest coffee you have, please."
【♤】
Energy renewed, Rose made her way through the main entrance of the factory at five minutes to nine. On her way up the stairs to the offices, Rose graced every worker she passed with a smile and a greeting. Allies were imperative if she was to survive the trials to come.
She took a seat at her desk just as her new boss bustled through the room, a harried expression on his stern face.
"Good morning, Mr. Gallagher," Rose said.
"Eh? Oh, yes, 'morning," Mr. Gallagher replied, distracted. He was sifting through a pile of papers and motioned absently to her. "Come with me, Miss Aldridge. Got a job for ya."
Intrigued, she rose from her desk and followed him into his office.
"Yes, sir?" she prompted.
Mr. Gallagher lowered himself onto the chair behind his desk and pulled a couple sheets of paper free from the stack. "Supplier I'm tryin' to partner with wants comprehensive numbers to review," he told her. "A productivity report, in simplest terms. I want you to write it up. Just make it sound as cordial and professional as ya can. A couple o' paragraphs regardin' recent increases productivity and their projections. Here." He handed Rose the loose papers he'd pulled aside. "You'll find all the information, numbers, cost analysis, and whatnot on these."
