Chairs scraped back. The dockhand's friends leapt to their feet, fists raised, and the room thickened with anger.
"Keep your hands off of what's mine," Magnus warned in a low menacing voice.
"He's a fucking Brit!" one of the men shouted.
The tension caught like a spark of dry tinder.
Tom and Bess's tavern was, as I'd come to understand, a neutral space. The British might have won the war, but that didn't mean there weren’t still tensions, especially in a big port city like Cape Town.
But even if the tavern was neutral, that didn't mean that things couldn't change at the drop of a hat. Especially if alcohol and hurt prides were involved.
Luckily, tonight was not the night.
"Enough!" Tom's roar silenced half the room. He shoved his way between Magnus and the dockhand clutching his jaw. "You two want to fight, take it to the street. Not under my roof!"
He turned on me next, his eyes sharp, his jaw clenched. "What happened?"
My throat felt tight. Was this going to be the thing that forced him to get rid of me and send me on my way? I needed this job, now more than ever, now that Leighton and Magnus had found me. I needed the money to prove my independence.
But something in Tom's gaze forced me to answer. "He... he touched me," I admitted, nodding to the dockhand. "He," that time I indicated toward a glowering Magnus who looked ready to commit murder, "stopped him."
Tom's face darkened. He pivoted on his heel, pointing toward the group of dockhands. "Out. All of you. I won't have scum like you laying hands on my girls."
The men protested, voices raised, but one look at Magnus and Tom's murderous glares, and they were shuffled out into the street, cursing all the way.
When the door slammed shut, the tavern seemed to exhale as one, but Tom wasn't done. He grabbed my elbow, steering me away from the floor. "Kitchen. Now."
Bess was waiting there, arms crossed, her expression fierce with worry.
Tom pointed at me. "Who the fuck are those British bastards staring at you, and why do they act like they've a claim on you?"
Before I could shape a word, a low, deliberate throat-clear cut through the air.
Magnus filled the doorway, broad shoulders blotting out the light behind him. Leighton was a step behind, composed as ever, though his eyes flicked toward me with a softness that only made my stomach twist harder.
"Because we do," Magnus said, his voice even, but sharp enough to slice through bone. "She was to wed my friend here." He inclined his head toward Leighton. "And opted to run away from us a few weeks ago."
The words hit the room like a musket shot.
Bess's brows rose to her hairline. Tom's mouth opened, then snapped shut, his face unreadable. My cheeks burned hotter than the oven fire at my back, and shame wrestled with fury until I could barely breathe.
"That true, girl?" Tom demanded, his tone less sharp than Magnus's but every bit as pressing.
My lips parted, but the weight of Magnus's presence stole my words so I nodded instead.
"Why did you run, lovely?" Bess asked, concern laced through her tone.
I couldn't look at her. At them.
How could I tell Bess why I ran without outing their secret? No matter their station or money, if something like that got out, they would be ruined.
And I might have been beyond mad at them for keeping all the secrets from me, but I certainly didn'twantthem to have any trouble because of me.
That's when Leighton stepped forward. "Because we lied to her," he said, his voice soft, careful, more controlled than I've ever heard him be. "We lied, and kept secrets and didn't trust her."
My gaze jumped up from the scuffed floor to him, to find him staring at me, almost imploringly.
"What's all this 'we' business?" Tom grumbled.
