"Last night, you said nothing about me performing," Elise said as soon as they entered the wagon.

"I said that you would earn your passage, and you agreed to do so," Sterling reminded.

"But I thought - "

"Which was a mistake." He leaned close to her. "First rule in the world outside the protective care of which you are accustomed: Never assume anything."

Elise made a startling realization in that moment. Staring into Sterling's silver eyes, she saw his resentment toward her. "You don't like me," she whispered. "You judge me before even knowing who I am."

He didn't deny her accusations. Instead, he shrugged. "It is the way of the world. The way of this world anyway. Do you think any of us here are welcomed with open arms wherever we travel?

"No," he answered for her. "We are sneered at, laughed at, accused of any petty theft that occurs while our wagons are camped close by. We are judged because we are different. Why should we behave any differently than how we've been taught?"

Ready words of defense did not spring to life upon her tongue. Elise knew she had reacted to the people outside as most would, certainly most of her station. She'd been afraid and leery of them. Why should she expect more from Sterling than she was willing to give herself?

"Tell me about them."

Her response brought an unguarded look of surprise to his handsome features. A moment later he scoffed, "You don't care about them. All you care about is your own problems. Why pretend otherwise?"

"Make me care," she challenged.

He settled upon his cot and ran a hand through his long hair. "Wish that I could. Unfortunately, humanity only sees what is first visible to them. They seldom look beyond the skin of a man, or a woman, to seek what might truly lie beneath. Philip was born in Paris. Born with the mark of the devil, or so his parents believed. They took him into the city slums and left him to die."

Elise gasped.

Sterling nodded. "A poor hag found him crying at her doorstep and took him in. She was a witch, some said, dealing in potions and magic. She raised him as best she could, but she was old even when he was born. Once she died, the townspeople burned her shop. Philip was left with nothing, except a loud voice and a talent to juggle. He joined a troupe, saved his money, and formed his own traveling show."

"And the others?" Elise settled beside him.

"Philip found Iris and Nathan, they are the small couple, on display as freaks in a circus in Europe. He took pity on them and asked them to join his troupe. They tumble about and make people laugh. I suppose because being laughed at for acting silly is easier than being laughed at because they are different."

"Their daughter, Dawn, is lovely," Elise said.

Idly he plucked at the sleeve of his shirt. "Yes, and Nathan and Iris love her and try their best to do right by her. But Dawn is ashamed of them. It breaks Nathan's and Iris's hearts to have their own flesh and blood turn away from them in shame."

Elise swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. "Doesn't Dawn realize how lucky she is to have parents at all? And ones who love her so?"

His silver gaze met hers. "Few realize their blessings until they have them taken away."

She wasn't certain if he referred to the loss of both of their parents or if he meant that she would soon regret her decision to run away from her uncle and a marriage not of her choosing.

"What about the man with the... ah - "

"Hump," Sterling provided. "Taylor. Kindhearted to animals, which don't see his deformity, or don't care about it as long as he takes proper care of them. He's the only one besides myself the cats will allow close to them."

"The cats?"

"Leena and Raja. I will introduce you to them."

A shudder raced through her. "No introduction necessary."

He laughed. "See, you also judge them before knowing them."

"Tell me about the woman, Mora." She noted the distaste in her own voice.

"Mora is a strange one," he said. "Mysterious. She says she is from the East, where she once lived the pampered life of a concubine within a sultan's harem. Marguerite, the dancer who ran away with a merchant two fairs back, shared her wagon for a time. Marguerite once confided to me that she believed Mora had unleashed her snakes among the harem. A ploy to narrow her competition for the sultan's favors."

A cold hand gripped Elise's heart. "You mean, she murdered the other women?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? As I said, she is mysterious. She seldom talks about herself. If I were you, I would keep my distance from her."

"What about the other woman?"

"Sarah Dobbs, and the stinky fellow is her husband, Tom. Sarah tells fortunes, although she is not truly blessed with the sight. Her husband, Tom, fixes the wagons when they break down and has a skill with crafts. Sarah discovered some time back that if she dressed like a Gypsy and told people what they wanted to hear, she could make more than she did working in a factory."

"Oh, I see," Elise clipped. "She deceives people to earn her way."

"I prefer to believe that she entertains people to earn her way," Sterling said dryly. "But that is the difference between your thinking and mine."

"Which brings us around to the reason I wanted a private word with you." Elise rose from the cot and stretched her legs. "I did not agree to perform, and certainly not to do anything indecent, to earn my passage."

Sterling rose as well. "I knew Philip would not allow you to stay unless he saw some gain to be had by doing so." He stared down at her. "We all pitch in to do our share of the work. You are unnecessary unless you have a talent. Can you sing? Perhaps play a musical instrument?"

Singing was not her strong suit. She could pound out a tune or two upon the piano, but certainly that wasn't an instrument she either was in possession of or could easily cart around with her.

"No," she admitted.

"Then the way I see it, you have no choice." He reached out and tugged a lock of her hair. "Now might be a good time to come to your senses and return to London. We'll reach a coach inn soon. You can use your money to hire a hackney to return you to your uncle."

Sterling's forward action had momentarily startled her, but Elise quickly regained her composure. She would under no circumstances return to her uncle. She'd wanted to be an adventurer. Now was her chance.

"All right," she said.

He sighed. "Good. You'll do better back where you belong."

When he started for the door, she realized he had mistaken her answer.

"I meant I will perform."

Sterling thought he knew how far he could push a proper English miss before she turned tail and ran, but he'd obviously been mistaken. He glanced back at Elise. She stood straight, her chin held high. He might have misjudged this particular young woman. He thought he knew a way to convince her further.

"Wait here," he said. "I'll be back shortly."

The troupe members had abandoned the fire, leaving Sarah to clean up. "Where is Mora?" he called.

"Stormed away to her wagon," Sarah answered. "Had the look of the devil in her eyes. Don't want to make that one jealous."

He dismissed Sarah's concerns with a wave of his hand and headed toward Mora's wagon. Raja growled at him from inside of his cage as Sterling passed. Sterling growled back. He needed to exercise the cats, but first he would make certain Elise knew exactly what type of a performer she had agreed to become.

At his soft rap, Mora opened her door. Her brow lifted. "You tire of the pasty-faced girl already?"

It took effort to keep from rolling his eyes. "I have come for Marguerite's costumes."

The snake charmer motioned him inside of her wagon. "Her basket uses valuable space. Take her things."

Sterling had never been inside of Mora's wagon and felt hesitant to enter now. Did she allow her snakes to roam about freely? Most of Mora's "pets" were harmless, but she had a king cobra that could kill a man with one strike of its deadly fangs.

"Are you afraid?" she goaded. "Is the big, strong Beast Tamer only a kitten in disguise?"

He stepped up into her wagon.

"I did not believe so," she purred, then trailed her fingers across his chest. "I sense something wild beneath your skin. Something dangerous. I could bring him forth, this beast that lives inside of you."

Sterling snatched her hand. His heart speeded a measure over her prophetic words. Maybe Mora had the sight that Lady Fortune did not. Could she see the beast slumbering within him? "I don't think you really want to see him," he said. "In my country we have a saying: Do not play with fire unless you wish to be burned."

She smiled, her lips turning up seductively. "I charm snakes. I enjoy the danger. I will charm you in time as well."

"The basket," he reminded. "I have other duties to attend to this morning."

Her smile faded and her dark eyes narrowed, then she pointed to a basket stacked on top of several others. "The top one. It holds Marguerite's costumes."

Sterling was forced to brush up against Mora in order to retrieve the basket She smelled of garlic and body odor. He should have known that she wasn't the sweet-smelling, soft woman in his bed last night. After grabbing the light basket, he squeezed past her and hurriedly exited the wagon. Mora laughed softly at his back.

When he entered his own wagon, Elise wheeled around. Her face flushed and he imagined he'd caught her snooping. He set the basket on the floor. "Here are your costumes."

She frowned. "The basket is rather small to hold clothing."

He held back a smile. When she bent to remove the lid, a thought occurred to him. "Stop!"

She froze.

"Stand back," he ordered. "I will remove the lid." The basket might not hold clothing at all. With Mora, one couldn't be too careful. Once Elise stepped back, he eased the lid from the basket. "It's all right. The costumes are indeed inside of the basket."

Elise stepped forward, glanced down into the basket, and gasped.

Sterling tensed, afraid he'd missed seeing a snake hidden within the basket's skimpy confines.

"These can't be costumes," Elise said. "There's nothing here but a pile of sheer scarves."

He relaxed, allowing the smile to surface that had threatened his mouth earlier.