“No.” A shade defensively, he added, “Other matters required my attention.”
Olivia merely raised a brow and let him make of it what he would before she tucked into her own serving of pound cake.
“I intend to speak with him later.” He took a bite of his cake, then washed it down with tea. “Did you find it awkward?”
“Conversing with him, you mean? A bit, yes. He was not so impolite as to ask me to leave him, but it is a certainty that he did not want me there. I am stubborn, though, and meant to have my way.”
“It cost you twenty-three farthings.”
She smiled, shrugged. “It is money well spent, in my opinion. He has kindly offered me an opportunity to win it back.”
“Thus the lamb is led to slaughter,” Griffin said, shaking his head. “I am all admiration.”
“Thank you. It does seem as if it may go well.” She regarded Griffin over the rim of her cup. “Did you have tin soldiers as a child?”
“Yes. A legion of them. Why?”
“There looked to be two or three score of the little men under Nat’s bed. I saw them when I was sitting at the table. Were they a present from you?”
“No. I have never seen them. It is doubtful my nephew shared his own. Did you ask him about them?”
She shook her head.
Griffin shrugged. “He had a small trunk and several cases when he arrived from Bath. I suppose he could have brought them with him.”
“Did you prize your legion?”
“Most definitely. I set up battlefields in my room, across my desk, on the bed, under it. Played at it for hours at a time. Boys do, you know.”
“No. I didn’t.”
She was a cunning strategist, he thought, in the way she could arrive at her point by any route. His acknowledgment of her aim was something less than gracious. “Oh, very well, I suppose it presents an opportunity for young Nat and me to find common ground.”
Olivia hid her smile behind her teacup. It was a beginning.
The hell was particularly crowded that night. Word of mouth in and around Putnam Lane was all that was necessary to fill the halls and gaming rooms. Patrons came as much to pay their respects to Griffin as they did to make their wagers. The betting books were opened, the faro table attracted gentlemen three deep, and the tables where cards were played had onlookers waiting for a turn in one of the chairs.
Griffin politely accepted the condolences of those regular patrons who were little more than acquaintances. Those who knew him better had already expressed their regrets in missives that arrived at Wright Hall soon after the announcement appeared in theGazette. Tonight, they simply made certain they caught his eye and conveyed their concern for him.
Griffin could have done without any particular attention being paid to the passing of his wife. He made no attempt to follow any mourning customs, knowing the effort would be regarded as hypocritical in as many circles as the lack of the same was regarded as disrespectful. Rather than try to do right by a society that could not be satisfied, he elected to please himself.
He was wending his way in the direction of the faro table when a movement on the upper stairs caught his eye. Turning quickly, he spied Nat ducking back into the hallway. Griffin decided against going after the boy and waited to see if he would reappear as soon as he thought it was safe to do so. When he judged sufficient time had elapsed for Nat to have returned to his room, Griffin waited just a bit more and was rewarded when a shock of russet-colored hair showed itself at the top of the stairs, followed by a pair of equally dark eyes.
Those eyes widened with the realization of having been neatly caught out.
Griffin held up his forefinger in a gesture that could signify a great many things but in this case meantstay. He did not expect Nat to bolt, but neither was he prepared for the fear he saw in the child’s eyes as he climbed closer. Because of that, he did not place his hand on Nat’s shoulder when he directed him to return to his room, but fell into step at the boy’s side instead.
Once they were inside the bedchamber, Griffin took up a chair so he was not towering over the child and motioned Nat toward the bed. Griffin chose not to be insulted when Nat responded rather too hastily.
Deciding to go at the matter directly, Griffin asked, “Do you think I mean to strike you?”
Nat blinked. His mouth was dry and his tongue cleaved to the roof. He tried to swallow but the lump in his throat was firmly in place and the sound that left his lips was an embarrassing gagging noise.
Regarding him warily, Griffin asked, “Are you going to be sick?” Nat’s quick shake of the head was unconvincing. “I have some experience with this. Much to my regret.” Griffin rose, went to the dressing room, and returned with the basin from the washstand. He set it on the bed beside Nat and went back to his chair.
“Perhaps it will be more productive for me to say some things rather than put questions to you.” Griffin did not wait for any sort of response, only gauged that Nat was listening, and went on. “I flatter myself that I am not strictly bound by the conventions of society. It is not always a wise choice to fly in the face of what is expected, but it ismychoice. If you do not comprehend what I’ve just said, it is of little matter. It is merely a preamble to what I will say now, and in time, I think, you will appreciate it.
“I do not hold to the notion that sparing the rod spoils the child. Whether that benefits you remains to be seen. You may be confident that I will not lift a hand against you nor take up a cane. You may also be confident that I will not permit you to show such willfulness that you endanger yourself or others. That is what you did this evening by placing yourself at the top of the stairs. I appreciate curiosity, but it is misplaced in this instance. You may ask questions about this establishment, and you will receive answers, but you may not wander from your room while there are patrons about.”
