Not because he intended to marry, no matter how much his matchmaking siblings might conspire with Cupid. But because he longed for someone to think of Mr. Jacob Wynchester as a hero, rather than a forgotten footnote lost at the bottom of a page.
In this case, dramatic heroics were unlikely to be necessary. The simplest solution was usually the correct one. Wherever Quentin was,he had meant to go there. With luck, he would return home on his own and they could return their focus to the more pressing cases. There were injuries and embezzlement and a housing crisis. The list went on.
Jacob missed lunch and grabbed a pie from a street vendor for supper. He almost skipped his Wednesday evening poetry meeting as well, but with his brain so overworked and he and his animals being pulled in so many different directions, it was a relief to sit in the shadows of the parlor’s rear wall for an hour.
At least there, he knew what was expected of him: little to nothing.
Nonetheless, after half an hour of silence, he couldn’t stand to listen to his colleagues prattle on any longer. The published ones, lording their status over the unpublished. The aspiring neophytes, convinced they would be discovered any day to possess even greater talent than the great Sir Gareth Jallow.
At this, Jacob shot to his feet and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” cried the friends who enjoyed his company. “We need your insights. We’re all learning together.”
“Where the devil do you thinkyou’regoing?” said the poets who barely tolerated his presence. “You won’t make it without us.”
“He’s jealous,” pronounced one of the worst braggarts. “We have talent, and he’ll never amount to anything.”
“No one’s jealous of you clowns,” snapped one of Jacob’s allies. “And weallenvy Jallow. One cannot compete with England’s national treasure.”
Lips pressed tight, Jacob climbed into his waiting carriage and left without looking back. Maybe he would return to the Dreamers Guild poetry group once the number of open cases lightened. And then again, maybe he wouldn’t.
For the record, he was not the least bit jealous of Sir GarethJallow.
Jacobwas the national treasure.
Jacob was Jallow.
When the carriage arrived home, Jacob headed straight to the barn rather than cross through the house and greet his siblings. There was too much work to be done to risk any distractions. And for all he knew, the house was empty anyway. He wasn’t the only one who needed to be six places at once.
As he pushed open the barn door, he nearly tripped over a large trembling ball of fur.
“Dionysus, you snuck out again?” He crouched to inspect the Highland tiger. “You know your sutures won’t heal properly if you insist upon—”
Shite. There were matted patches of blood in the feline’s fur. Bits of ruptured thread peeked out from the hairs.
“Come on,” he murmured as he scooped up the heavy cat. Jacob carried Dionysus through the barn toward the medical station at the back. He placed the growling feline on a low wooden table, cleaned the wounds, and sighed. “You’re going to need three new sutures.”
Dionysus hated sutures.
Jacob did not blame him. He kept the wildcat calm by continuing to talk in a low, soothing voice.
On the other side of the barn, the door flung open with a bang.
He recognized Miss Henry’s voice at once. “Where the devil have you been? I’ve been searching for you for hours—”
“Close the door,” Jacob commanded. “And keep yourself on the outside. I’ve many animals in this barn. The wounded wildcat on this table is unpredictable.”
Miss Henry shut the door—after stepping fully inside. “I believe I’m owed—”
“Out,” Jacob repeated. “You are trespassing on private property and liable to be the next creature requiring sutures if you do not take yourself to safety at once.”
As if to punctuate this threat, the Highland tiger gave another warning growl.
“I’m not going anywhere until you explain yourself. You promised to keep me abreast of all news, and it’s gone twenty-four hours without a peep. Either the all-powerful Wynchesters have accomplished nothing, or else you don’t respect me enough to share information—”
Jacob cursed beneath his breath. All his work calming down Dionysus was now undone, because he’d been forced to raise his voice in anger at their client.
“Almost there,” Jacob murmured to the wildcat as he snipped another thread. “You’re all right now. No need to attack our guest. She’ll be going soon.”
