Daniel quit hiding his mouth and tossed the towel to an empty spot on the bench. He nodded once. Tried not to look intimidating. Wasn’t sure whether either of them could accomplish that feat—they both sported the beginnings of bruises—and where Everson had landed that last hit, Daniel felt the skin below his right eye pulling tight as it swelled; the rest of him felt like he’d been dragged over rocks.
Despite his surprise, Everson grinned. “Certainly you can, Lord Tremayne. The household comes alive early, so anytime after nine?”
As always, Daniel felt the stiff formality that surrounded him. He wanted to ask the man to dispense with his title, to call him by his first name. Or skip the honorary and use “Tremayne”. But habit kept him silent. His name was the absolute worst. Couldn’t pronounce it once without mangling the bloody hell out of it. So he settled for, “Eleven?”
“Fine. Fine.” Everson shrugged into his shirt, only wincing once before emerging from the neckline. “You’re, ah, not planning on having another go at me for that last punisher?”
That brought a smile. “Hardly.”
Unwilling to linger now that he’d accomplished the first step of the objective that had been weighing on him, Daniel quickly drew on his street clothes and pulled on his boots. Before parting ways with Everson, he glanced across the bench. Waiting until the man glanced up, he said deliberately, “Have your…boy…Tom there.”
“Thomas?” Everson reared back as though struck, his eyebrows soaring. “I didn’t know you’d met my youngest…”
But by now, Everson was talking to air.
It was sheer luck that brought Thea into safety and the comfort of Sarah’s carriage. Well, luck and Thea’s lack of a cloak.
“I still cannot believe I saw you!” Sarah exclaimed, using her warming blanket to blot water from Thea’s head.
Moments earlier (as Sarah explained the second she hauled Thea inside), she’d spotted a woman who had taken refuge from the rain, hunched and shivering in the doorway of a closed haberdashery. Recognizing her friend, she’d screeched at her driver to halt and had the carriage door open before the wheels stopped turning. “For once you can thank that dress of yours. Even wet that atrocious color is unmistakable.”
“Unmistakably ugly?” The words came out near frozen, but inside, the chill of fear that had gripped Thea the last two hours was rapidly giving way to peace. It would be all right now. “Th-thank heavens for friends who love to shop!”
Sarah tried to frown but it came out upside down. “How you can jest when your hands feel like blocks of ice, I’ll never know.” Sarah transferred her attention to chafing Thea’s palms. “Gloves, child! How you could go off without those too is beyond me!”
She hadn’t. Thea had (stupidly, she realized after the fact) traded them to a street urchin who swore she knew the way to Hatchards, only to lead Thea a merry chase down several streets—ones without a bookstore in sight—before disappearing.
Thea opened her mouth to apologize, for she truly regretted the loss of the beautiful gloves her friend had given her, but snapped it shut when Sarah started up again.
“Why you won’t take the cloak and dresses I’ve offered…” Now that Thea’s fingers were flushed a nice tomato color—and stinging like the devil—Sarah took to bundling her in another blanket. “Offered time and again!”
A few months into their friendship, Sarah had positively insisted Thea take a couple of her dresses once she’d realized how sparse Thea’s wardrobe. Thea promptly insisted Sarah take them back. When one eked out an existence in the dingy slums of London, one did not arrive home wearing fine quality silk and fur. Not and live to wear the wares.
“’Tis of no matter. Truly, I’m fine. Thanks to your timely rescue,” she said and her teeth hardly clattered at all. “Just so relieved to see you.”
“You can thank a carriage mishap two streets over. I was heading home but we had to detour through here—what ever are you doing?”
Thea had emerged from the blanket and pushed open a window to view the soggy sight of decent homes rolling by. Shielding the stray but determined raindrops with one arm, she kept her gaze on the houses while explaining, “Looking for my home. Have you any notion where I live—the townhouse I mean? The one Lord Tremayne secured?”
When no answer was forthcoming, she glanced back at Sarah.
For a moment, her friend gaped like a caught carp. “You mean you don’t?”
Wet hair streamed in front of her left eye. Thea blinked and hooked the soggy strands behind her ear. “Not the address, precisely. I’ve been there since the night of your party. I just left today for the first time but failed to note the street and number. Reckless of me, I know…”
Laughter at her own folly, and because she couldn’t help but smile as she recounted the last two days, Thea shared much about her time since leaving with Lord Tremayne (but certainly not everything; some intimate memories—and mirrored reflections—were best kept to oneself).
She also shared the last few bites of George and Charlotte’s cheese.
“I cannot believe you meant to waste this quality Stilton on two rodents,” Sarah said, a true grin on her features. “Especially after how hard you worked to rid yourself of them.”
“Not them, specifically, just their offspring and aunts and uncles—”
“Enough!” Sarah held out a hand, choking a bit as the last laugh—and piece of cheese—went down the wrong pipe. “Shall I be practical? It seems as though one of us must and due to your mouse mania, the task turns to me. I could bring you home with me, see you dry and warm in a trice, but based on how you’ve practically fallen through the window twice—”
“I have not!”
“Searching for a landmark, I think I’d serve you best by helping you find your street. Come, tell me what you remember.
