“I look terrible,” said Eileen. “My hair’s a mess and I can’t do anything with it.”
She had bound it beneath a single band that pulled back it from her face. “I think it looks pretty,” said Thomas. “Ready?”
“No,” said George.
“Too bad,” said Thomas. “There’s our table.”
It was one of the longer walks in Thomas’s memory. Every eye in the place wasn’t on them at once, but it was fair to say that they all passed over them. It was like stepping into a small-town tavern, Thomas mused, only far more ornate. From the cut and style of people’s clothes, Thomas identified merchants and their wives, gentlemen who looked to be high ranking members of guilds, and members of the local nobility.
And I thought being the son of a cloth merchant would never come in handy.
Rowland and Patrick greeted t
