“I’ll be ready,” Gabriel said dismissively.
A few scratches weren’t going to stop him from personally taking down the Spectre.
After the investigators departed, Gabriel went to find his son. Before he and Thea had parted last night, she’d suggested that he speak to Freddy about what was going on—in general, if not the specifics. Initially, he’d balked at the idea of causing his son distress by talking of villains and murder. He didn’t want Freddy to be afraid, to risk triggering another spell.
“There’s nothing like the lack of information to foster fear,” Thea had countered. “Freddy is a sensitive and intelligent boy. He was almost kidnapped, and you were nearly killed. If you don’t give him some reasonable explanation for all that has been happening, his imagination will surely run wild. A child’s imagination can be far worse than the truth.”
To Gabriel, open communication was a foreign concept. His own parents had not been in the same room often enough to share conversations of any length (he didn’t count the occasional shouting matches he’d heard between them). As a spy, he’d learned to hold his cards close for obvious reasons. During his marriage, the times he’d tried to share his inner workings had only annoyed his wife and made him feel stupid and awkward.
Intimacy was not his forte. To his mind, it was preferable to avoid conversations that involved emotions in general.Let us never speak of unpleasant things,Sylvia’s voice echoed.
But what if Thea was right and silence only led to worsening fears? The idea of Freddy being afraid did not sit well with Gabriel. Moments later, he found himself entering his son’s room. Sunshine poured through the open curtains, and Freddy was reading in bed.
“Good afternoon, Papa,” he said, politely setting aside his book.
Captain Gulliver again, Gabriel saw with wry amusement. Leave it to Thea to give his son a book about small people who could topple a giant.
He sat in the chair by the bed, searching for the best opening. “How are you feeling today?”
“Much better. I haven’t had a headache or a spell,” Freddy said tremulously.
“That is good news.”
Silence stretched. Gabriel’s gaze roamed around the bright chamber, dust motes sparkling in the air when the sun caught them. He cleared his throat. “You are comfortable?”
“Yes, sir. Very.”
“Good.” Gabriel smoothed an invisible crease on his trousers, cursing his own ineptness. What if he said something wrong, caused the boy to have a fit?Get on with it, man.“Frederick, I’ve come to say a few words. About what has happened in the last fortnight—namely, your attempted kidnapping and my carriage accident.”
Freddy’s eyes turned as big as dinner plates. “Yes, sir?”
“It has come to my attention that the two events are not unrelated. I assure you, however, that there’s no need to worry. I have everything under control and—”
“Are you going to die, Papa?”
To Gabriel’s consternation, his son’s eyes filled with tears.
“No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “What gave you that idea?”
“I heard the maids gossiping. They said the fire was so big you almost didn’t escape. They said it wasn’t an accident, and someone is trying to kill you.” A rivulet trickled down Freddy’s freckled cheek, and the boy gave a sudden sob. “I—I don’t want you to die.”
“You mustn’t get overwrought, Freddy. It isn’t good for you…”
Appalled, Gabriel watched as Freddy began to cry in earnest. He fumbled in his jacket for a handkerchief. Held it out. But Freddy didn’t even notice, his thin shoulders shaking, tears dripping onto the coverlet. Gingerly, Gabriel sat on the bed and put a tentative hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“It’s all right,” he said gruffly. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“B-but people die all the time. M-mama died. And if you d-die too, I’ll be left alone.”
Sudden clarity struck Gabriel. This was the first time Freddy had brought up the subject of Sylvia’s death. Gabriel had feared that the topic would cause the boy more distress and worsen the seizures, so he’d never spoken about it. Since over four years had passed, he’d assumed Freddy had recovered from the loss, and no discussion was required. Clearly, he’d been wrong; he had to say something now.
“I don’t know why your mama had to die,” he said haltingly, “but I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep both you and me safe. I am a man of my word, Freddy. I would not lie to you. Do you believe me?”
His chest constricted at the trust he saw in his son’s tear-stained eyes.
“Y-yes, Papa,” Freddy said, sniffling.
“There’s a good lad.” Carefully, Gabriel blotted away the tears with his handkerchief. “In several days, I will be going with Mr. Kent and the others to track down the villain. We hope to capture him and end this for good.”
