“So?”

“I’m not allowed to get married. Until my apprenticeship is over.”

“Odd’s fish. I hadn’t thought of that. Well, you’d best hurry it up, then. Sally’s certain to attract suitors at Court, and I won’t wait forever. What about you, Thomas?”

Tom stared in horror. “Me?”

“Surely you must have some girl who’s sweet on you.”

He turned red as an apple. “Oh, no. No, no. No.”

I smiled at Tom. My turn. “He’s being modest, sire. You should have seen the way the maids in Paris fawned over him.”

The king nodded. “How well I remember. Like vultures, they are.”

“There is a girl here in London who likes him,” I said. “Dorothy, the innkeeper’s daughter, who lives across from my shop. She’s been trying to catch Tom for some time.”

“Sounds excellent. Is she pretty?”

“Very,” I said, “but maybe a bit… aggressive.”

“How so?”

“Imagine a bear trying to open a jar of honey. And Tom’s the jar.”

The king doubled over in laughter. Tom buried his face in his hands. Lord Ashcombe just sighed and shook his head.

Charles wiped away tears and patted Tom on the knee. “Ah, you two. Have no fear, Thomas, I’ll find you someone suitable.”

“Perhaps, sire,” Lord Ashcombe said, “the betrothals can wait. Until the boys are no longer fourteen, at least.”

“Odd’s fish. I keep forgetting how young you are. You’ve just served me so well.” He clapped his hands. “Which brings me to the point. I promised you gifts.”

He turned serious. “You three, Sally included, accepted great danger in traveling to Paris, with no idea whom or what you might face. You did this at my request, and yet asked for nothing in return. You saved the life of my sister, Minette, which means more to me than my own—which you have saved, even so.

“I considered giving you titles, but that wouldn’t fit my plans for you at the moment. Therefore, instead, I have decided to provide you with a pension. Six hundred pounds per annum, divided between the three.”

Tom swayed in his chair, white with shock. I went dizzy myself, a low buzzing filling my head.

A pension?

Of six hundred pounds?

That meant Tom, Sally, and I would each be given two hundred pounds, every year.

A journeyman apothecary could hope to make a shilling a day. That worked out to around fifteen pounds a year. The king would be giving us—each, giving us each—thirteen times that.

Forever.

It was well known Charles was generous with money. He’d given a similar sum to the family who’d helped him escape the country fifteen years ago, when Cromwell’s troops had been hunting for his head. And yet this… I could barely breathe.

Tom stared, slack-jawed. “But you already gave me this hat.”

Again the king doubled over with laughter. “Odd’s fish, Thomas. I must invite you to all my parties.”

Head still buzzing, I asked, “Does Sally know?”

“She was informed last night,” Charles said, “upon her arrival at Berkshire House. I would have liked to have told her myself, but circumstances didn’t permit.”