“They are not otherwise occupied with the repairs at Dalkeith?”
He shook his head. I looked to Tom, whose only input was a shrug and a, “Better than the none we have now.” It was a fair assessment. I wasn’t enthused about the idea of learning to repair walls.
“Send them over?”
The man nodded and wandered off to the table. Tom turned to me. “I thought we were leaving.”
“A desperate desire to avoid further home repair lessons outweighs all other risks.”
“But you would’ve looked so pretty with plaster in your hair.”
Before I could offer a retort, the entire table of men arrived.
One was of an indeterminate age—he could be no more than twenty, with tanned skin and bleached hair weathered by sand and sun, or he could be more than fifty and remarkably well preserved.
The second was a young man, perhaps nine and ten, with ruddy everything—cheeks, nose, and hair. If his toes had been visible, I was certain they’d have been ruddy as well.
A woman dressed in dark, masculine cuts was also with them. Her hair was mousy and her face was plain—all except her eyes. Those were bright. The mischievous sparkle reminded me of Davina, in truth.
“Yer hiring?” the sun-worn one asked.
“At present, I’m hiring skilled labor for some repair work. Though I do have need of household staff once repairs are further along.”
“Murry,” he said, gesturing to himself. “I’m a plasterer by trade—though I’ve some skill as a painter too. And this here is wee Jamie. He clapped the younger man about the shoulder. “He can paint. An’ Kenna, there’s nothing she cannae do.”
“It is too far to travel every day, and the house isn’t in any fit state to… well, house you. Not yet.”
“We can sleep in the stables.”
“I’m not certain the stables are in a fit state either.”
“Xander,” Tom whispered, before turning to the folks surrounding our table. “Would you give us a moment?”
“Aye.” They wandered back off to their corner to stare with interest.
“We need laborers. They need work,” he said, catching my hand. “Why are you fussing?”
“I don’t know.”
Soft, smiling lips found my jaw. “Something is wrong. Tell me.”
“It’s too easy.” I hadn’t known the answer until the words left me, but it settled there in my chest, heavy, crushing.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never… made it a habit to associate with people like me. It has always been too big a risk. And now I stumble in here on Lock’s recommendation, of all people, and happen upon an entire staff?”
“Isn’t that why you moved here? To shake off some of the trappings of London?”
“Yes, but not this many. This is how rumors get started.”
“And then what?” he asked, working his way to the hinge of my jaw, kisses intermingled with the occasional nip.
“What?” It was so hard to focus on anything substantive when he was doingthat.
“And when the rumors get started, then what?”
“Arrested, noose, shame on both our families.”
