“I’ve no idea, but the carriage is ready for you.” I gathered my hat and great coat to ward against the winter chill before leading him out.
“Humble as always, Augie. Are you coming?”
“Of course. Someone will need to call for a surgeon after Johnson is through with you if you’re wrong.”
“If I’m wrong? You’re the one who caught it!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir. I’m just a lowly superintendent.” He added that just before settling in the carriage, leaving me to clamber in after. Lowly my arse.
“Wonderful. After Johnson is finished physically beating me within an inch of my life, I’m to dine at Grayson House tonight. Agatha can handle the emotional torture.”
“Why on earth are you dining there?”
“I received an invitation this morning. Apparently, Hugh’s new wife comes from some sort of happy family. Whatever that is. Seems to think forced proximity is sufficient to encourage familial congeniality.”
“And you’re sure she meant to invite you? Not Tom?”
“Tom will be there also.”
“At least you’ll have one ally.”
“I was hoping for two.” I drew the last word out, waiting for him to make the connection.
“No, absolutely not.”
“Augie…”
“No. Besides, if you’re dining out, someone needs to watch the play.”
“I’m given to understand that Anna has taken over as lady’s maid for the new viscountess… I’m certain her hair is still pretty, and she retains that scent of pastry you find so alluring.”
“I told you that in confidence.” His tone was sharp, reproachful, but there was always an undercurrent of fondness whenever Anna was mentioned.
“You were soused when you told me that.”
“Soused is a kind of confidence. What time?” An exasperated sigh accompanied the reply. I hid my smile; he wouldn’t appreciate it.
“Seven.” Before he could question me further about Anna’s situation, we shuddered to a stop outside Johnson’s training ground.
Once inside the training room, Augie was content to linger in the shadows forged by the roped-off ring. I left him to approach Johnson at the heavy bag alone.
The man was an intimidating three hands taller than me and nearly five stone heavier. His appearance was slightly worse for his profession; his ears resembled cruciferous vegetables, and more than a few teeth were long gone. Still, we’d enjoyed a drink and each other’s company in the past. There was every possibility that Augie’s offer for a surgeon would be unnecessary.
Unfortunately, I miscalculated how much the repeated blows had impacted Johnson’s hearing. My approach startled the man. The last thing I saw was a massive fist aimed right at my eye.
* * *
I was alive.That much was obvious. Whether it was a good thing remained to be seen.
Hot, thick, agony burned along the right side of my face and jaw. The pain radiated just below my eye, throbbing in time to my heartbeat. Nausea swept over me in waves. Indistinct muttering swirled around me, indistinguishable amid the roar of my angry blood as it rushed through my ears.
A hiss escaped me when someone pressed a wet cloth to the laceration. A sharp, astringent stinging released into the wound, running up into my eye for added insult. It was brandy judging by the smell. They could at least sit me up before burning my eye out.
I gave words a try. “What the devil are you putting that in my eye for? Drinking it’s the only thing that will help.”
My speech must have been somewhat comprehensible because I heard Augie say, “He’ll live. Help him up.”
Too many hands worried over me, sliding under my shoulder to wrench me from my place on the floor. The nausea that had dissipated in my distraction returned with a tidal wave. My innards threatened to make themselves my outtards. Outtards—probably not a word. The sour, sick taste filled my mouth, mixing with the copper tang of blood, distract from my musings.
