There was only one way to know if he’d created another illusion while locked up or if she was, in fact, the woman he believed she might be.
He rubbed his beard, longer than he’d ever worn it, and then stared at his fingertips. And most suddenly, he was desperate to rid himself of all of it.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” he called.
The lodging’s manservant took one look at Hunt’s clothing and then made a face at the stench—Cologne de Newgate—but the young man quickly twisted his expression back into passivity. “My apologies,” he said.
“No, it’s alright. You’re Smithy, right?” Hunt vaguely remembered the man.
“Yes, my lord.”
“I can hardly stand myself.” Hunt gestured to the copper tub behind a decorative red and gold silk screen. “Which is why...”
“Of course, my lord.”
Three others followed, carrying buckets of hot water. And as they shuffled in and out of the room, Hunt removed his coat and then his shirt. No boots to wrestle with.
“Can we bring you anything else, my lord?”
Hunt’s stomach was hollow. Eighteen days with but one meal a day consisting of intolerable mush, and he’d become accustomed to feeling empty.
“Something to eat. Eggs if possible, some cheese, bread. And ale.” And then he added, “Strawberries.”
He stepped behind the screen and removed his trousers.
“Of course,” Smithy said, then closed the door behind him.
Hunt climbed into the tub with a groan, bending his knees and lowering himself until the water was just below his chin.
He’d make himself human again.
And then he would go to her.
While contemplating what he’d say when he did finally see her, the sound of the door opening again had him shooting up, ready to bolt for a towel.
“There you are, Cousin!” Damien’s voice carried over the screen.
“We’ve just been to Newgate. Went there expected you to declare your undying love when you heard the news. Nearly shite my trousers when they told us you’d been released.” His cousin was not alone. Edgeworth was with him.
“Have a seat. I’ve ordered some food.” Hunt relaxed back into the tub. “And why would you expect my undying love?”
Edgeworth’s face appeared from around the privacy screen. “It’s about those investments….”
“He’s not coming.” Priscilla glanced out the window for the twentieth time. A full day had passed since her brother had returned from Newgate. Priscilla had not counted on Emerson rushing to her side, but she had hoped…
If only so she could apologize properly.
And to see him.
She needed to know he wasn’t ill from the three weeks he’d spent in prison. A cold shiver ran through her.
She’d barely endured his being locked up, how on earth had he?
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Gabriel advised from where he sat. “Give the man a minute. He’s due some sleep and food, no doubt. I’d sleep for days if it was me.”
But she knew in her heart of hearts that her brother would find Olivia first.
Priscilla paced back to the hearth and held her hands out to feel the warmth. “You’re sure he was all right? He wasn’t ill?”
