Moronities of a Victorian Lover

Chapter Four

Twenty minutes later I was in a carriage, Ezekiel’s carriage.

He was staring at his boots.

“Do you usually do this?” I asked.

“Do what, stare at my boots?” he smiled. “All the time. I’m a rare person.”

I smiled back. “I was referring to me. I mean,” I cleared my throat. “Do you usually rescue women?”

“Not really,” he replied still staring at his boots. "Can you imagine if I did? I’d be a…hero. Yes, a hero. I’d be famous. Not that I need more fame. But – ” he stopped himself. “I’m sorry, I have a wild imagination.”

I think it’s adorable.

He looked at me.

“I think you are adorable,” he grinned.

“Did I say that…”

“Aye, you did Miss Ellie,” he chuckled.

I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks. I quickly looked away.

Change the topic, Ellie, change the topic.

“Are you,” I cleared my throat, “married?”

Brilliant. You are such a moron, Ellie!

“I was.”

“You were? What happened?”

“I killed her,” he drew imaginary circles in the window. “Then I got hungry, so I ate her. She tasted like chicken.”

Remember when I said I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks, yes? Well now I felt the blood drain from my face.

I tried to form some coherent words but nothing came out.

He started laughing.

“Oh Ellie, the look on your face was hilarious. I am just playing with you.”

“It was not hilarious!” I protested.

He kept laughing.

“I might start to loathe you,” I threatened.

He gasped mockingly.

“How dare you say such a thing? I’m your hero, mi lady.”

I snorted.

“Where are we going?” I asked changing the topic.

“My house,” he replied. “When I left you this afternoon I was decided that I was going to rescue you from my brother. I told the maids to prepare you a room," looked thoughtful. "I hope they did.”

“That’s very kind, Ezekiel, you –”

“Zeke, call me Zeke,” he interrupted me.

“Well, Zeke, thank you for rescuing me. May I ask a question?”

“You already did,” he smiled as I rolled my eyes. “But yes, you may.”

“My mother,” I started, “called you a bastard and a thief, why?”

He chuckled.

“Well, like Timothy said earlier, I’m adopted,” he stretched on his seat. “Twelve years ago, Lord Calvin Gladstone found me moribund on the streets. I used to live on there. I peregrinated from city to city looking for food, ate whatever I could find. Sometimes I didn’t eat for days…I was too skinny for my own good. One day I bumped into this group of kids that were stealing from a bakery. They were poor, I could tell by their clothes, but they weren't skinny like me…they were fatter and looked healthy. That’s when I knew I had to become a thief to survive. So I did. I became one of the best thieves among the poor but I made a mistake, I entered the wrong territory. It belonged to dangerous gang, and – am I boring you?” he smiled.