“That can’t be comfortable.”
“Better ’n what I had, sir.” Even in the dark, a shudder could be seen rippling the thin fabric on his shoulders.
Unbidden, Colin’s hands curled into fists. What he wouldn’t pay for just a moment with the boy’s Master Monster to teach the man what fear really felt like.
Taking a few steadying breaths, he forced calmness into his voice instead of the rage that crawled like so many ants beneath his skin. “What do you eat, boy?”
“Whatever I find, sir.”
“Is that so? Well. No more, I think.”Tentatively, he reached out and patted the boy on the head, and when that small act was accepted, he pushed his advantage even further by saying, “As my new errand boy, you shall have proper meals and a proper bed.”
The boy ducked away. “No.”
“No what?”
“No, sir.”
Were all children this hard to decipher? Did the lad not wish for meals? For a bed? Or did he think the errand running to be too much work? He shifted his weight, the strain of sitting on so small a seat for so long shooting pains through his backside. “What are you talking about, lad?”
“Can’t be yer errand boy, sir. Can’t no one know I’m here. Not even the pretty lady.” Tears thickened his voice. “Master Monster might find me.”
Anger flared white-hot. Of course. Though the boy had fled such cruelty, it made sense he’d not risk a return to it. “This master of yours, he is here? In Bristol?”
“Aye, sir. Mostly. Sometimes he be gone when he gets more boys.”
Colin rubbed his leg, working out a kink, thinking hard, thinking fast. “All right, then what say you to London? Should you like to be my errand boy there?”
“Really, sir?”The boy straightened like a soldier called to attention. “That be a dream! I seen how kind ye be. Yer not like my other master.”
He rose, glad for the child’s agreement and the means to be able to whisk him away from such a wicked existence. “Very good, then I suppose for now you can go onbeing, as you call it, beneath my roof, though I insist on providing you a blanket and cushion, and that you promise you’ll not stay outside in the rain.”
“Oh, aye, sir!” The boy bounced on his toes. “God bless ye, sir.”
“May God bless us both.” He reached for the door, then on second thought, turned back. “Oh, and one more thing. About your name… For now, you shall be Nemo.”
“Nemo.” The boy tasted the name like a savory bite of meat pie. “I like it, sir.”
“Good. Thenno oneyou shall be, as am I, until the day we are both set free.”
Once again he reached for the door, but the boy tugged on his trouser leg, his small voice asking, “When will that be, sir?”
“Soon, Nemo. Very soon.” He yanked open the door and added under his breath, “Hopefully.”
NINETEEN
“But I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers, or enter into their feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest….”
As if riding unchaperoned in a dark carriage with a man weren’t improper enough, now this. A lone woman dining amongst a room full of suits.Onlysuits. Amelia kept her gaze pinned on her dish of blancmange. Granted, most of the gentlemen in attendance were white of hair and paunchy at the waist, but that didn’t make it any less inappropriate. What were they to think other than she was some sort of trollop?
The only thing getting her through the awful dinner was the constant conversation from Mr. Lambert on her left, which saved her from the wandering eye of the philanderer on her right.
“…not to your liking?”
She blinked up at Mr. Lambert. “Pardon?”
“I asked if your pudding is not to your liking.” He pointed his spoon at her plate. “You’ve not touched a bite.”
“I—”
