“Yes, it was closest.” Ah, not good for my apartment. Or the office.
“Have ’im wait outside?”
“Of course,” she rose carefully, then found the chamber pot and handed it to me. She slipped out the door, peering around the corner as she closed it.
I managed well enough without assistance, then called out to Kit. He popped his head in, slightly hesitant.
It was good to know where the boundaries of friendship were drawn.
Once I confirmed I was decent, he came in and made himself comfortable in Celine’s long-abandoned chair. “How are you feeling?”
“Less like death than earlier.”
“That’s good. Do you remember anything?”
“Remember everything, I think.”
Suddenly a two-toned squawk sounded from the other side of me by the window. I turned, and to my astonishment, horror, and amusement, there was the damn bird. It had one wingbandaged to its side and its feathers were mangled and rumpled. But it still glared at me in irritation with its beady eyes. That explained the pinch earlier. Blasted bird.
“The bird… Celine insisted on bringing it. Said it saved her. I think she might be in a bit of shock.” Kit was tentative, trying to warn me without offending most likely. It was the same tone he used when we had bankrupt lords in our office who still spent like kings.
“She’s not addled. She and the damn thing have some sort of… friendship? It visits her every morning. And… I think it saved me too?”
“What?”
“Tapped on the window—let me know they were outside.”
“So the bird saved you too…”
“I’m not addled either.”
“You were hit on the head, quite hard.”
I tried a deep breath for courage, forgetting my ribs for a moment. I was punished severely for my forgetfulness with a sharp, stabbing pain.
Forging on, I asked, “Speaking of… my eye?”
“It’s not pretty. He hit you in the brow and you’ve swollen shut. The doc stitched you up while you were out. It’ll scar to be sure.”
“But ’ll be able to see?”
“Oh, yes. He wasn’t worried about your vision, mostly your memory, understanding, that sort of thing.” That might have been the single most beautiful sentence Kit had ever uttered. “Lucky for us, it seems your head is solid as granite.”
The door slid open with a perfunctory knock. Celine. Most likely she had been standing there eavesdropping for a considerable time. I didn’t have the energy to tease her about it though. “William?”
She was carrying a tray of something that smelled delectable, chicken soup perhaps? Until that moment, I hadn’t noticed how hungry I was. Now that I did, I was ravenous. If I had ever been this hungry before in my life, I didn’t remember it.
Kit helped sit me up while Celine fussed at the tray on my lap with more care than it deserved. Kit stepped away, leaving me to her ministrations.
She pulled the chair up closer to the head of the bed, then ran her fingers through my surely disgusting hair.
Eating proved to be a bit more challenging than anticipated. My hand was unsteady with the spoon, but Celine knew me well enough to let me manage without comment.
It had to be the best soup I’d ever tasted, flavorful, filling, and comforting. I let out an appreciative hum.
“I know, Mrs. Ainsley sent her mother over with it.” That explained it then, Mrs. Hudson’s cooking was legendary. Far too quickly, I reached the end of the bowl, and she lifted the tray away and set it on the floor beside her.
“Feeling any better?” she asked.
