tears.
And Dredmore.
After ridding myself of all the unwanted reminders of the night before (as well as a layer or two of my skin) I dried my hair and dressed, ignoring the siren song of my sympathetic bed. I’d triumphed over a tragedy of my own manufacture; my life would go on. My monthlies had just finished, so chances were that I would not become pregnant. If anything I could be grateful to Dredmore for smashing the last of my romantic notions.
Men and romance, two notions I fully intended to avoid in the future like the rats and plague they were.
When I arrived at the Davies Building, Horace Eduwin Gremley the Fourth stood hovering just outside the main entry. He rushed over as soon as he saw me turn the corner.
“Mr. Gremley.” I bobbed. “You’re in early today. Making up some hours to allow for an early day on Friday?”
“No. Yes. Ah, Miss Kittredge.” His eyes darted back before returning to gaze at me with a kind of wild distress. “I bear unhappy news this morning. Mr. Davies’s solicitor paid an early call. About you.”
“Indeed.” I looked over his shoulder at the stone-faced doorman who was decidedly not watching us. “What about me?”
“You’ve been evicted,” Fourth blurted out. “This very morning, I fear. The solicitor quite forcefully communicated Mr. Davies’s desire that you not be permitted in the building by the doorman or any of the other tenants. Unfortunately he was not at all forthcoming as to why such a grossly undeserved action is being taken.” He twisted his hands together. “I assured the man that you are the kindest and most considerate of tenants, but he refused to be swayed. I cannot fathom why Mr. Davies would do this to you.”
I could.
I looked up at my office window. “Have they closed it up, or cleared it out?”
“Both. Mr. Docket told the solicitor that he would see to your belongings.” Fourth grimaced. “As soon as he mentioned casting them into the incinerator, the solicitor happily agreed.”
“You needn’t worry,” I told him. “Docket is a mate; he won’t torch my things. If you would be so kind as to drop him a note through the tube and say that I’ll arrange for a cart to come round tonight, after the building closes.”
“Anything,” he said, nodding. “Miss Kittredge, I cannot express how sorry I am about this. I will be writing a letter of protest to Mr. Davies as soon as I return to the office.”
“You’re very kind, Mr. Gremley.” I patted his arm. “But under the circumstances, it would be wiser not to openly associate yourself with me.”
His expression changed to one of unhappy understanding, and he offered me a sad smile. “You should know that your advice to me was brilliant. I was introduced to Maritza Skolnik by her father, who also obtained her consent to be my escort on Friday night.”
Skolnik was no fool; within a fortnight he’d have Mr. Gremley engaged to his daughter. But as she was a lovely, gentle creature, I imagined Fourth could look forward to a very pleasant future. “I’m so glad. I wish you and the lady all the best, sir.”
Fourth hesitated before bending and giving me an awkward peck on the cheek. “As I hope for you, Miss Kittredge.” With his face still turning red, he hurried off.
Davies had always been a conservative man but genial landlord; he wouldn’t have thrown me out unless he’d been given ample cause.
I might have sought sanctuary with Rina or Bridget, both of whom had been completely justified in their advice to me, but I couldn’t do it, not yet. Not until I found out which man was responsible.
I walked slowly back toward my flat, but had no interest in spending the day alone sulking. I also realized that there might be other reasons I was being hounded. What was Nolan Walsh hiding? Was it as Dredmore had hinted, that I’d inadvertently stumbled onto something that threatened Walsh more than the scandal of divorcing his young wife?
And then there was Dredmore. He was a man of the world, an important man not to be trifled with. Why had he pursued me, and seduced me, and imprisoned me? I was young, healthy, and attractive, but hardly anything beyond that. Rumsen was filled with women whose beauty made me seem a veritable troll by comparison. Hundreds of posh, nubile women Dredmore could take to wife with a snap of his fingers— professional, talented women he could purchase for the night or however long he wished to use them. Lucien was not only rich and mysterious, he was virile and handsome. Virtually any female within the city would be eager and happy to oblige him.
My stomach growled, so I changed direction and went to the fruit market, where the stands were just opening for the morning’s business. There I walked along until I reached the old peach seller, who had just sliced open a red-gold beauty to release the delicious fragrance.
This was where Dredmore had claimed he had seen me the first time. Where he had . . . no, the most powerful deathmage in the country could not have looked across a market and fallen in love with me at first sight. One required a heart for such a thing to happen. But why would he wish me to believe he’d done so?
“Trying to tempt the browsers?” I said over the open crates.
“Always, miss, always.” She handed me a slice. “North country golders, sweet as honey this year, they are.”
I popped the fruit in my mouth and found it to be precisely as she claimed, as well as sun-warmed and remarkably juicy. “It’s scrumptious.”
She looked side to side before shoving a small paper sack in my hands. When I reached for my reticule, she shook her head. “A gift, dearie.” She gave me a meaningful look. “I’ll wager you could use a bit of sweetness today.”
That put me on alert. “Why’s that?”
She leaned over the crates. “Bunch of beaters came round earlier, asking after a gel who looks a bit like you. They said she lives a goldstone round the corner.” When I glanced round she added, “No one knew this gel, ’course, so they went off. I heard one of them say something daft about looking for her in some eagle’s nest.” She straightened and said in a louder voice, “Morning’s a bit chilly, don’t you think, miss? Best cover up until the air warms.”
I drew my hood over my head. “I will, thank you.”
If Inspector Doyle had sent beaters looking for me, it was either to bring me in on another phony charge or to give me protection. I wanted to believe it was the latter, and might have, if my eviction from the office hadn’t taken place. Dredmore might have filed a charge against me as well, and he had a legitimate one: I’d stolen George. Although anyone with enough coin to afford one motored about in a carri, horses remained the primary means of transport round the city. No young blue ever made a circuit of the parks in a carri, and even merchants who could afford a fleet of carris still kept horses as a show of their wealth and status. Because of this, horse thieves remained universally reviled by all the citizens of Rumsen, and when convicted were regularly sentenced to be whipped in public to serve as a warning to others.
No, he wouldn’t.
As much as I hated him and his spectacular arrogance, Lucien had employed his unsavory methods in an attempt to protect me. Whatever we had been to each other before last night, the man and I were no longer enemies. I didn’t know what we might become, but our interlude in the maze had changed everything.
I took my bag of peaches to a little children’s park three blocks north of the market. A few nannies were pushing prams along the walks, but the benches and sandboxes were empty. I sat down on a bench half-hidden from the street by a large red-and-white-striped glory bush and took out a peach.
“North country golders,” Doyle said as he sat down beside me. “I hear they’re as sweet as honey this year.”
“That they are.” I took the other peach from the sack and offered to him.
