“I’m afraid we were relieved of not only our possessions, but all our money.”
“Mrs. Fleming informed me of that fact. Mr. Norton is pleased to extend you every courtesy, sir.”
Well, that was something, at least.
Godric inclined his head. “Please extend my gratitude for his generosity. I wish I could say we’d not impose on him for long, but . . .” He gestured toward the window, and she nodded.
“I recommend you stay on for at least a few days, no matter the weather. That swelling on your right temple is a bit concerning and should be given a chance to heal. I told your . . . wife you should remain in bed and have gruel and broth for a few days. Just until you recoup your strength, which shouldn’t take a man like yourself too terribly long.” She allowed her wicked green eyes to roam his body in a way intended to get his blood all moving in one direction.
Eva was glaring at the other woman as if she were a venomous reptile that had slithered into their midst and then sunk its fangs into Godric’s thigh. He couldn’t help wondering if Mrs. Crosby understood the danger she was courting by teasing the volatile young woman. Part of him—the bigger part—believed she knew exactly what she was doing. Although why she would choose to taunt a stranger was beyond him. Perhaps it was merely the boredom of a too-attractive rural widow, provided she was a widow and not behaving like a mare in estrus even though she had a husband still in the picture.
“Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Crosby.” He gave her a warm smile to demonstrate that two could play at the same game, and her brilliant eyes widened in surprise. “But I believe I’d like some tea, toast, eggs, and ham—my wife tells me Mr. Norton is quite a hand when it comes to curing. I’d also like a basin of hot water and the loan of a razor, if that can be arranged.”
She nodded slowly, as if his words had pained her, and Godric felt a bit bad about putting her in her place, although it was better than letting Eva manage the matter.
“Will you take the draught I prepared for you, sir? It is one of my specialties and will get rid of any lingering ill effects.” Usually when a woman looked at Godric with that much heat in her expression, neither of them was clothed.
“I actually feel quite well,” he lied. “And I don’t use laudanum.” Not any longer, at least.
She bowed her head in a gesture of submission that was not entirely convincing. “Of course, sir.” She took a step toward him. “If you would let me check your banda—”
Godric raised his hand as she reached for his head, his eyes flickering to Eva, who appeared to have swelled to three times her normal size, like some lethal tropical fish. “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Crosby, but I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”
“I don’t mind,” she said, her lips twitching into a secretive little moue that said she was not easily deterred by mere wives.
How very odd—and interesting. And unwise.
“I’m sure you’ve got far better things to do than see to my minor cuts and scratches. My wife will tend to my needs. Is there any chance my clothes are—”
“I’m afraid I haven’t had the time to see to them. But Mr. Norton has offered the use of a robe.” She gestured to the clothes horse, where a plain woolen robe waited. “I know it is humble, but perhaps you might use that for the time being?”
Godric was not unaware of the work their sudden arrival would have caused her. “Thank you.”
She gave him another of her meaningful smiles and then turned slightly so she could keep both Eva and Godric in her range of vision. “Your sweet young wife has been so worried about you.”
Eva shoved past her, either carelessly—or purposely—jostling her. “Oh, please do excuse my clumsiness.”
The women faced each other like two cats with arched backs, the air between them charged.
It felt as though the silence stretched, but Godric knew it was only the intensity of the two women’s animosity.
The older woman, more wily by half, was the first to give way. “Of course, my dear,” she said with a musical laugh as beautiful as her person. “I do envy your childish exuberance—so much like a playful kitten.”
“Why, thank you for being so understanding, Mrs. Crosby. There’s nothing I value more highly than praise from my elders,” Eva whipped back.
Mrs. Crosby dropped a curtsy—a remarkably graceful one for a country cook—and took her leave.
Eva stalked after her and slammed the door, not caring that Andrew was still standing in the doorway and had to jump back to avoid having his nose mashed. She swung around, her eyes blazing.
Godric opened his eyes wide. “What?”
Her eyes and mouth screwed up. “Don’t. Just—don’t.”
Godric patted the bed where she’d been sitting before the cook interrupted. “Come sit.”
She crossed her arms. “No.”
Godric smiled, even though he knew he was playing with fire. “Are you jealous, darling?”
“Of you?” Disdain, loathing, and even a dash of amusement. She might be a kitten, but she wasn’t without her defenses.
Godric chuckled, even though it hurt his head, and crooked his finger. “It’s hurting my neck to keep it angled this way,” he said, not telling her that his neck would hurt in any position.
“That’s terrible,” she said in a voice that indicated it was exactly what he deserved. Even so, she did come a few steps closer, stopping a little way from his bed. “Perhaps I should leave before she returns so that you will be free to flirt with that—that—”
Good God, she was adorable.
“You are jealous.”
“No, merely nauseated. If you must insist on indulging in flirtation with every crone—”
He couldn’t help snorting at the inapt description.
“With every crone,” she repeated through clenched teeth, “who slithers past, I hope you do so out of my sight and hearing at least.”
Godric snatched up her hand before she could jump back. The small, cool fingers remained stiff in his grasp. For a moment he thought she might give him the slap he so roundly deserved for toying with her.
“If it bothers you, sweetheart, all you need do is ask me to stop. Nicely.” He kissed the tips of her fingers and cut her a sly look from beneath lowered lashes.
Her jaw tightened, her lovely face flushed darkly, and she stared at him with eyes that blazed a hot blue-violet. “Oh, no, darling. I wouldn’t interfere with your amusement for all the money in the world—I know the simple pleasures are all that remain once a man reaches your advanced age.”
Godric threw back his head and roared. And then immediately regretted it. “Dammit!” he howled as a pain more brutal than the blade of a hatchet struck him through the temple.
“Oh dear,” she cooed with mock concern. “Did you hurt yourself, sweetheart?”
His lips twitched with a pained smile. “You little shrew.”
There was a sharp rap on the door and it opened without warning.
Mrs. Crosby stood in the opening, a large tray between her hands, her eyes as sharp as awls.
Good God, the woman must have sprinted downstairs and back.
Eva pulled away her hand and stepped back, her full lips tightened into a scowl.
“Here you are, sir.” Mrs. Crosby set the footed tray over his lap, her hand accidentally brushing the most sensitive part of his body and causing him to jerk. “I beg your pardon,” she said quietly, her eyes demurely cast down, her lips curled into a tiny smile.
Godric knew he was handsome, but he certainly wasn’t that handsome. Just what the devil was the woman up to? Was she hoping to get him murdered in his sleep?
“I’m most grateful for your sedulous care,” he murmured.
Her magnificent eyes flashed. “Is there anything else—” She left the question hanging, the implication clear.
“This is lovely, Mrs. . . . er, Crosby. Thank you.”
She nodded. “I shall send your water and razor up when you’ve rung fo
r me to clear your tray.”
Godric frowned. “Are you the only one working?”
“We weren’t expecting any guests in this weather, so Mr. Norton gave the girls leave to go home before the water rose so high they couldn’t go.”
“Ah, I see. I’m terribly sorry to be putting you to such inconvenience.”
Her lids turned heavy—really, the woman was laying it on a bit thick. “You could never be an inconvenience.”
Behind her, Eva made an unsubtle retching sound.
Godric’s face heated, but before he could formulate an answer, the cook curtsied and left the room with a seductive sway of her hips, brushing close enough to touch Andrew—who wore a fatuous smile—on her way out the door.
“Get in or get out. Either way, shut the door,” Eva snapped when Andrew continued to stare in the other woman’s direction.
Andrew flushed but stepped inside and closed the door.
“Why did you bring her with you?” Eva demanded.
“I didn’t bring her, she brought herself. I could hardly stop her, short of wrestling her to the ground.”
Godric doubted the slender, gentle-looking boy could have stopped the hellcat who’d just left, no matter how hard he wrestled.
Eva swung back to Godric. “I don’t like her.”
Andrew snorted. “Really? Because I never would have guessed.”
Eva whirled on him, and Godric sighed. “Children.”
They turned toward him, four pale cheeks flushed, two mouths compressed, four willful eyes flashing. Godric had the most powerful urge to pull the covers over his head and sleep until the rain stopped.
Instead he held his hand toward Eva. “Come here.”
She flushed and chewed at the side of her mouth.
“Please? I apologize for being a wretch. Sit with me while I eat.” He could see by her deepening flush, his invitation pleased her. It occurred to him, with no small alarm, that she was halfway infatuated with him and that teasing and playing with her would accelerate the process if he wasn’t careful.
It won’t matter a whit what you do, the snide voice said. She is a young, impressionable girl who is eager to fall in love.
Godric was not so sure that was true. Eva might be young, but her mind was as sharp as a razor, and he’d seen no indication during the Season that she was hanging out for a husband. Indeed, he believed her when she said she didn’t want to marry. He was fairly certain her only problem with Mrs. Crosby’s flirtation was that the woman would be so disrespectful in front of Eva.
Love and marriage are two different matters, my dear, deluded Godric.
“Did you see the way she rubbed against Andrew?” Eva asked.
You see, it’s not me she loves, but Mrs. Crosby she despises, Godric told his smug inner voice.
“Did you?” she demanded.
Godric paused in the act of raising his loaded fork. “Er—”
“He immediately fell into her nasty snare and is madly in love with her.” She tossed the fuming young man a look designed to annoy even the calmest of men, whose number young Andrew was certainly not among.
Her words acted like spurs. “That’s not—”
Eva cut Godric a conspiring look. “You know she’d never even notice such a green sprig unless she was up to something devious.”
“Green. Sprig.” Andrew made a strangled noise of fury. “I most certainly am not in love with her.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She snapped her fingers. “I forgot, you’re in love with your blunderbuss.”
“It’s a—”
“Eva, Andrew.” Godric used the tone he’d always employed on fractious soldiers, and it worked just as well on the two young people. Well, that was something, at least. Not much, but something.
“Can you refrain from bickering every five minutes? How about every five hours?”
The boy glared at Eva, his authority—such as it was—considerably diminished by his ludicrous eyewear and mismatched, borrowed clothing, which was not much better than his tattered dress. “It’s she who always begins these things with one of her smart comments.”
“Better than your stupid comments.”
Godric cleared his throat before they could go at it again and said, “Please, take a seat, Andrew.” Once he’d seated himself—as far from Eva as the small room allowed—Godric said, “I’d like to eat my meal without listening to an argument. Why don’t you tell me, Andrew” —he cut a severe look at Eva, who assumed a martyred expression—“how you came to be on that stretch of road with an, er, arquebus.” Dressed in a blue gown.
The boy pushed his glasses up his nose, momentarily distracted by the fact they were missing an arm and lens on one side.
“The short story is that my cousins beat me up, dressed me in one of my dead mother’s gowns, and then dumped me off at the side of the road with the gun.”
Godric paused with a forkful of—indeed delicious—ham halfway to his mouth. He set the fork down, food untouched. “Is this some sort of rite of passage in your family?”
Eva guffawed but quickly stifled it when he gave her a stern look.
Andrew squirmed, his slender body shifting beneath the borrowed clothing that Godric suspected must have come from the aforementioned son of Mr. Norton, a man whose nightshirt was big on Godric, who was not a small man. Andrew, not a great deal taller than Eva, swam in the huge, rustic trousers, which had been cinched around his narrow waist with twine, rather than a belt.
“My father—Stephen Lowell—died three months ago,” he said, looking oddly dignified for all that he was dressed like a clown. “He was a scholar on the subject of ancient weaponry and had always lived modestly until this past year. It appears that he put money on the ’Change right after Boney got caught. Er, the first time. I did not discover the state of his affairs until after his death. I’m afraid his debts are quite onerous.”
Godric didn’t need to be a genius to see where this was going.
“So you went to your uncle for help?” he said, hopefully moving the story past the painful discovery that Andrew was destitute.
Andrew nodded, every emotion he was experiencing flitting across his sensitive features. “My uncle is an ironmonger—a very successful one—and wanted me to work for him.” He must have seen Godric’s amazement because he gave a weary smile. “No, not working forges or blast furnaces or anything dreadful like that. He wanted me to be his bookkeeper. But, er, well, I discovered some inconsistencies and when I went to ask him about them, he called me a liar and a thief and kicked me out.” He cut Godric a nervous look. “He had two partners, you see.”
“Ahh, and his partners weren’t aware of the inconsistencies?”
Andrew nodded. “I know now I was naïve to go to him. But then?” He shrugged. “I didn’t tell anyone anything—although I suppose I should have.” Twin spots of embarrassment colored his narrow cheeks.
“Sometimes it is best to retreat and leave the fight for another day,” Godric said kindly.
Andrew gave him a grateful look, his Adam’s apple bobbing a few times before he continued. “I was packing my trunk when my three cousins—all ironworkers themselves—came to my room.” His mouth twisted with self-disgust. “I think their immediate plan was just to thrash me. But when they opened my trunk, they found the dress—and of course they’d seen the gun when I arrived. I suppose the urge was impossible to resist.” He cut Godric a remarkably dignified look. “The dress and gun are all I have left of my parents.”
Godric was grateful for the distraction of shoveling food into his mouth. Eva, on the other hand, was staring at the boy with her jaw hanging.
Godric gritted his teeth, dreading what might come out of her mouth.
But then, to his stunned amazement, she leapt from her chair and flung her arms around Andrew, her shoulder knocking his already damaged spectacles off his nose. “That is a horrid story. Why didn’t you tell me this before? I’m so sorry I was odious to you.”
Andrew’s
horrified eyes met Godric’s over her shaking shoulders.
Godric mimed patting her on the back and nodded and smiled his encouragement when the boy hastily complied. He sagged back against the pillow; well, perhaps they might have a bit of peace, after all.
* * *
Eva felt like the lowest form of snake as she watched Andrew carry Godric’s empty tray from the room. Godric had asked him to do it so that Mrs. Crosby didn’t need to put herself out—at least that was what he’d told Andrew. As soon as the door closed, she went back to Godric’s bed but stopped when she realized how brazen that looked.
Godric yawned and then patted the bedding with one of his lovely hands, which now had swollen, torn, bloody knuckles. To her pleasant surprise he reached for her hand again when she sat.
“That was a nice thing you did for Andrew, offering him a place at your father’s house.”
She grimaced, holding his hand in her lap and studying it rather than look at his too-knowing eyes. “It was the least I could do after being so dreadful to him. I had no idea he’d had such a horrid time.” Her lower lip quivered. “If I’d known all that—”
“Shh,” he soothed, being so lovely to her it was making her feel even more anxious than when he was taunting and tormenting her. She risked a quick glance up, to find him regarding her with a strange, thoughtful look. She cocked her head. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
She thought it was something, but he was not the sort of man to be forced into making confidences—or forced into anything, really. And the way he’d responded to the few personal questions she had asked made her leery of asking any others. Especially of asking the question that was now branded into her brain: Godric had been married?
“Why do you look so pensive?” he asked.
Eva wanted to ask him why he had the right to pose such questions when she didn’t, but she simply didn’t have the energy for it right now. Instead she said, “I hate to admit it, but I now think that Mrs. Crosby was probably right.”
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