“No, but that is easily rectified.” Griffin might have imagined the smile that tugged at the boy’s pinched mouth, but he was quite certain he did not mistake the wistfulness in his eyes. Satisfied, Griffin finished the last of his coffee. “Did I tell you, Miss Cole, that Nat left his room last evening?”
He had told her all about it, but she feigned ignorance. “You did not, my lord. What was that in aid of, Nat?”
Nat fought mightily to refrain from squirming. Beneath the table, he gently swung his legs. “The noise,” he said. “It woke me.”
A slightly different version, Griffin thought, than he’d heard the night before. He’d thought Nat hadn’t been able to fall asleep. He said nothing, allowing Olivia the opportunity to learn what he had not been able.
“The voices from below rumble through the house,” Olivia said. “Sometimes you can feel it when you’re lying abed. Did you?”
Nat nodded.
“You probably didn’t notice when you stayed before. I’ve been told you were very attentive to your mother.” She regretted causing the flash of pain she saw in his eyes. “When I slept there, I could sometimes hear shouting from the street. It is hard to imagine anyone could be so loud, but there you have it. The hours on Putnam Lane are rather different than what you’re accustomed to, I expect.” She watched him closely, trying to divine what it was that she saw in him. There was a reserve in his demeanor, a sense that he was holding something tightly to his chest. She imagined herself lying in that bed again, alone, hearing and feeling every strange sound, and then she imagined herself at his age.
At not yet quite six.
“I was afraid,” she said. “Deeply so. And I am ever so much older than you.”
“You are a girl.”
“True, though I am not certain that alone accounts for it. I know I didn’t show your courage, because I stayed in bed with the covers pulled up around my head, while you went off on your own.”
Nat’s eyes dropped to his plate, and he bit his lip. He thrust out his chin, but it still wobbled.
Olivia felt very much like weeping herself. She didn’t dare look at Griffin. If he was in any way sympathetic, she would most certainly cry, and if he wasn’t, she would be provoked to stabbing him again.
“Tell us about the noise you heard,” Griffin said. His tone was quiet and firm and did not invite refusal. He put his hand over Olivia’s when she would have answered on Nat’s behalf. “I think Miss Cole and I have mistaken the matter. You must set us right.”
Nat nodded ever so slightly. His feet stopped swinging under the table.
Griffin and Olivia found themselves actually holding their breath.
“The window,” he said.
Now Griffin and Olivia exchanged glances. They realized as one that Nat had not gone to find the source of the noise that had disturbed him, but fled from it.
“What sort of noise was it at the window?” asked Olivia. “Tapping? Scratching? Rattling?”
He nodded again.
“All of that?” asked Griffin.
“Yes, sir.” Nat finally looked up, his features set as stoically as a Spartan’s. “It was my mother come for me. She said she would come for me.” The remains of his muffin crumbled between his fingers. “I do not want to go with her, sir.”
Griffin stared at Nat. Throwing a few coins to the urchins every morning, sending Wick on an errand, exchanging words with Beetle as he handed over his boots, none of that prepared him for dealing with this child, or this child’s fears. “It was the wind,” he said. “Or a tree branch. Many things can cause noises such as you heard. It was not your mother.”
Rather than mollifying the boy, Griffin saw Nat’s large, dark eyes well with tears. Before he could speak and make right whatever he’d made wrong, he felt Olivia trod hard upon his toes. Relief far surpassed the pain.
“Of course you will not go with her,” Olivia said. She gently removed the mangled muffin from between Nat’s hands and used her serviette to briskly dust off his palms. “Lord Breckenridge will not allow it. It is his wish that you will remain here, and no one, not even your mother, can gainsay him. He will also not allow her to disturb your sleep, so you can be certain that when you hear a noise at your window, it is naught but one of nature’s moody tricks.”
Nat regarded her uncertainly.
“Look to his lordship, Nat, and see for yourself that what I’m telling you is true.”
Nat’s attention swung to Griffin. “Is it so, sir?”
The cast of Griffin’s features was solemn. “It is.” Griffin expected his word to be the end of it, but he watched Nat’s eyes dart to Olivia again, this time settling on her hands, both of which were resting lightly on the tabletop. “You are perhaps looking to see if she has a fork in my side?”
Nat offered a guilty, watery smile.
