Alex laughed and blushed lightly. “That’s not what I meant.”

  

---

“Excellent,” he laughed. “No side husbands. She’s firmly out of my league.”

Along with Miss McPadraic, who would do well not to be caught alone chatting the chef up. But he wasn’t flirting, she wasn’t flirting, and as long as she vamoosed before suppertime he might even live.

He checked his watch, which he had been too distracted to prior, and then peeked in the oven to see how the bread was doing. Still had a good 30 minutes to go from the looks of it.

  

Alexandra laughed once more before returning to her tea. She remained quiet for a while, letting her mind wonder. She never understood how blind her father was to Evaine, but talking with Armel showed it wasn’t just her that saw issues with the lady. Eventually she stood and moved to wash her cup and pot.

Although she paused beside him just to see what he was doing.

  

---

It was a simple dinner night, and he chopped vegetables by hand rather than magic simply for the sake of preoccupying himself. Sure, he could have enchanted it all and gone to get 30 minutes of not potentially getting caught in a compromising position. Maybe Miss McPadraic might have even gotten bored and left.

But no. Instead he was chopping green beans by hand.

He felt her more than saw her when she stopped right beside him. His hands slowed, and his gaze lifted with an uncertain look.

“You know,” he finally managed, voice low, “your father has killed men.”

As had Ahmet’s, but so far not mosying up to the wrong daughter.

  

Alexandra watched his hands with fascination until he spoke. At that she meet his gaze, head tilting as she gave him a curious look. “What of it?” She asked, voice dropping to match his.

  

---

Was she toying with him? Was that what they taught the young roses at Pendergasts? 15 ways to get a man killed without incriminating oneself? He bespelled the knife to chop for him, and then turned his back to it. His shoulder brushed her.

Maybe he’d just learned 15 ways to get himself killed.

“Your father isn’t keen on women unattended in the kitchen.”

  

"My father isn't keen on a lot of things Monsieur" she replied with a playful smile. "Life would be very tiresome if rules weren't broken. I just keep him on his toes" she added before moving for the sink to wash the pot and cup. She tried to ignore the strange feeling on her shoulder where it had been touched. "Besides, I haven't gotten you into trouble yet have I? I know how to make sure I'm not caught."

  

---

Ahmet let out a huff of breath, crossing his arms.

“Yes, you know how to make sure you aren’t caught,” he said with a pointed nod at her. “Four knuts hardly erases the horror on that woman’s face.”

  

Alexandra stopped what she was doing and turned to face him. She knew what the money was, she had just hoped that they would never talk about it. But then again... "That woman’s face?" she asked, not sure to who he was referring.

  

---

But there was no polite opportunity. It was there, she was there, and he wasn’t going to surrender his kitchen in addition to his public dignity.

“The one you made a scene for.”

Granted, there had been two – but he’d retreated too quickly to get a look at the other.

  

Alex looked at him in confusion. "You mean the shoppers?" she finally asked, the only conclusion she could come to.

  

---

“Indeed. People I see every day.”

Some of them, anyway. He was getting to know the Hogsmeade servants there – some of them even by name. He could only hope none of them there had known his when that happened.

  

"I..." Alex sighed and rubbed her neck lightly. "I am truly sorry about that, I panicked... If it helps they probably don't know me. I'm not out and I have been mistaken for Evaine on occasion..." she looked away, letting her hand drop back down to join the other in front of her. "I know that probably isn't enough. But I am sorry."

  

---

His immediate instinct was to play it down and reassure her. But they lived by different rules, and the stakes were so much higher. He chewed the inside of his cheek and glanced away.

He had a somewhat comfortable life for himself, with money to send home – and he had a tightrope to walk to keep it that way. Kumru wrote in readable English, and Englishmen didn’t really care to hear women talk anyway. He hadn’t managed to get Baudelaire to give her a job, but perhaps...

“You could make it up to me.”

  

Alexandra looked up in surprise. He was willing to forgive her for it? "How?"

  

---

He looked away to give himself space to think, arms still crossed. Haggling his sister’s future was a little more intense than arguing a discount for blemished tomatoes. Especially with a young woman who could make so many things go awry for him.

A woman contrite, apparently.

“The local hospitals – do they consider Zauberakademie credentials?”

Her credentials were from Constantinople... but the Zauberakademie had accepted his, so maybe..?