Chapter ONE - Weebly

change at all. “It’s no’ my place t’ ask. But he did.”
Now that he thought about it, Ethan realized that this
should have been his first question. He usually worked
for men of middling means—merchants like Corbett,
craftsmen like Henry, for whom he had recovered a
valuable set of tools before taking the room above his
cooperage. Men as wealthy as Berson didn’t come to
him. They went to Sephira Pryce. Pryce was better
known; she was as wealthy and influential as they were.
If word got around Boston that Berson had come to
Ethan instead of going to the Empress of the South End,
as many called Pryce, both Ethan and the merchant
could expect visits from her and her toughs—never an
appealing prospect.
Kannice would have told Ethan that this was all the
more reason to send the silver-haired stranger away, to
follow through on his plan to avoid the streets for a
time. But that had never been his way.
“Have you approached Sephira Pryce about this?”
he asked.
For the first time, Berson’s man seemed unnerved.
His face paled, and the corner of his mouth twitched.