“Greenwich, then, or Richmond,” Clemency forged onward. Richard lifted one shoulder noncommittally, and she gave a happy chirp of delight. “Gerhard, do find an estate agent.”
“I will do it today,” he promised her. Richard gave him a sour look and Gerhard only grinned back, like an idiot. If Gerhard had to choose between pleasing Clemency and anything else, he’d please Clemency no matter the cost.
“Verräter,” he said.
“Ja, natürlich,” agreed Gerhard. Richard could call him any bad name under the sun, not just a traitor, and Clemency’s smile would wash it all away for Gerhard.
“Don’t do that, Richard, you know I don’t remember my German,” Clemency reproached him. “What did you say to him?”
“I urged him not to delay.” He leaned forward and set down his coffee cup. “Since we’ve clearly exhausted your hospitality here and you are eager for us to be gone from your home.” Gerhard had come along to England as a matter of course—it was difficult to dissuade him from anything involving Clemency, let alone a widowed Clemency—and the two of them had been here ever since, in her house in Clarges Street.
“What?” She blinked at him. “Oh no! I’m so glad to have you here—donotthink I long to be rid of you, Gerhard,” she added, reaching to not just touch, but clasp his hand this time. “Never. You will always be welcome in my home.”
Gerhard melted under her imploring gaze like butter on a stove. “I would never do anything that displeases you, Mrs. Murray.”
She gave him a wide, grateful smile. Richard idly thought that if he stabbed his table knife into Gerhard’s thigh under the table, his friend would neither notice nor care. He might even be pleased, for then Clemency would fuss over him and hold his hand and stroke his face.
The door opened and two boys burst in, chasing each other with wooden swords in hand and shouting at the top of theirlungs. Clemency shot to her feet. “Gabriel! Rafael! Stop that at once!”
“He destroyed my fort!” cried Rafael, swiping at his brother.
“I did not! You kicked it over, because you’re a clumsy ox!” Gabriel ducked and twisted around his mother’s chair, evading her reach.
“Liar!”
“Idiot!”
Richard watched his sister’s face turn red, then pale, and her mouth began to quiver. He put out one arm and caught his nephew as Rafael ran by him. Gerhard snared Gabriel on his side of the table, and both boys went quiet, breathing hard and glaring at each other.
“Who built the fort?” Richard asked.
“I did, sir.” Rafael seemed to wilt in his hold. “Of blocks. It was this high.” He held out one hand at his waist.
“That is excellent building,” Richard told him. He turned to his other nephew, now sitting on Gerhard’s lap. Gabriel was two years younger than Rafael, but was just as tall and bigger, with his father’s fair hair and energetic nature. Rafael was the cleverer of the two, dark like his mother and more sensitive than his boisterous brother. “Gabriel, what did you do?”
“Nothing, sir,” muttered the boy.
“Really?” asked Gerhard mildly, and Gabriel flushed.
“I only tried to add a turret. But Rafe got angry and charged at me, and the whole side of it collapsed. It was not my fault!”
“It wasn’t your building to change!” cried Rafael. “Build your own!”
“You used all the blocks!”
“Stop,” said Richard firmly, and the boys fell silent. “Gabriel, would you like Rafael to interfere with your activities?”
The boy’s lower lip came out. “No, sir.”
“Rafael, was it worth destroying your entire building merely to stop him from adding something?”
The boy in his arm blinked away tears. “No, sir.”
“Gabriel, you will put away all the blocks by yourself, and you may not use them for three days. Rafael, you will compose a letter to your mother apologizing for such disruptive behavior. Do you not see she is upset by this fighting, which has not solved anything?”
“Yes, sir,” they mumbled.
He released Rafael. “Go.”
