“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Bobby cautions, pretending he hasn’t noticed the way Demeroven’s pants fit quite snugly in the rear.
“Well, I’m glad you’re getting along a little better at least,”Beth says as they head toward the shaded pavilion where spectators are hurriedly purchasing refreshments before the next heat.
“Why?” Bobby wonders.
“Well, Dashiell is adamant we all get along and work together. He’s very impressed by James’ new work ethic.”
“And neither you nor Gwen has bothered to tell him that he’s been an arse to all of us?” Bobby asks, ignoring the pang that it’s possible Uncle Dashiell now prefers Demeroven to him—especially as Demeroven hasn’t gotten him recently blackmailed, that Uncle Dashiell knows of.
“It’s made him so happy, working with Albie and James. He’s so big on family, and with Mother so close to... I couldn’t bear to take that from him,” Beth rushes out, her hand going tense in the crook of his elbow.
“Right. Of course,” Bobby says quickly. “Of course he is. He’s a happy expectant father, no reason to tarnish that. I can—I’ll get along with Demeroven.”
“You will?” Beth asks, looking up at him with such bright hope, he can’t help but nod. “Thank you.”
“Beth,” Gwen says.
Bobby blinks, surprised to find them already at the outer wall of the water closets.
Beth pats his arm and then lets Gwen pull her away into the lavatories, leaving Bobby and Demeroven loitering outside. Hardly a picturesque location, but at least it’s cool. They stand in the shade beneath the white tarps, awkward and alone.
“Blistering hot out there, isn’t it?” Demeroven offers, scuffing his good foot against the packed dirt floor.
“Damn right,” Bobby agrees, shaking his hands out to pump himself up enough to continue his and Demeroven’s charming conversation.
“Perhaps you and the girls could arrange an event, or ensure Raverson is invited to the next tea,” Demeroven says quietly.
Bobby jerks his gaze to meet Demeroven’s. “Excuse me?”
“You could use the opportunity to suss out his plan, try and understand all the angles.”
Bobby would rather fall down his own set of stairs than approach Raverson at a tea. “Why? You seem chummy enough—can’t you do the digging?”
“Lord Havenfort has my days planned out down to the hour,” Demeroven says. “You’ve the time, don’t you?”
Bobby bristles, hackles rising fast. “I have better things to do.”
Demeroven considers him and Bobby tries to keep his shoulders back, chest out. “Do you?” Demeroven asks.
He hates that Demeroven can do this—can ask questions, make statements, make note of things just as they are, no artifice, no sugarcoating.
No, he doesn’t have better things to do, but he surely doesn’t want to admit that to Demeroven, the frustrating—
“I’m absolutely parched,” Gwen announces as she and Beth emerge from the lavatories. “You boys can fetch us some refreshments, can’t you?” she prompts.
Bobby would argue, but there’s a sheen on Beth’s eyes. No matter where they go, or how busy Uncle Dashiell keeps them, nothing can truly distract from the impending birth and the danger Beth’s mother will be in when the baby comes. That worry is ever present.
“Of course,” Bobby says, even as Demeroven frowns at him. “Come along, Demeroven,” he says, taking Demeroven’s arm to turn him around and steer him toward the far side of the pavilion where the drinks and food wait for sale.
But Demeroven has other plans, veering off to the right once they’ve passed the lavatories. He haltingly marches themtoward a deserted corner where they can duck behind a tent flap, leaving them in the meter-wide gap between the tent and the side of the whitewashed pavilion.
It’s cooler still in this little hideaway, and everything’s tinged with an off-white light from the tent above them. If Bobby weren’t so uncomfortable in such close quarters with Demeroven, he might be relieved.
“We need to make a plan,” Demeroven whispers, glancing up at Bobby before running his fingers through his thick sandy-brown hair.
“Look, if you’re going to have me doing investigative work, why don’t you tell me everything you know, since your reticence is what got us into this situation,” Bobby returns, clenching his jaw the moment the words are out.
He used to be good at hiding his resentments. But it seems like lately all he can do is spew them at anyone willing to listen, whether they deserve it or not.
