My back gave a rude twinge as I reached Oss’s front stoop. With careful balance, I climbed the three steps, then rapped the shiny brass knocker against its plate. Only the slow measured movement of Affie’s stomach against my shoulder prevented me from panicking over his stillness.
Brenson, Hawthorne’s butler, answered the door. I’m not ashamed to say that Brenson’s outfit was finer than anything to my name. He must be having an affair with the maid to get his undershirt that white.
“What do you want?” He sneered at me as if I was interrupting his day with my filthy presence.
It wasn’t the first time I received that look and wouldn’t be the last. Dating a duke or not, I’ve met enough high-class people to know their views of people like me.
And I still couldn’t be bothered to care.
I yanked my attention away from the intricate folds of Brenson’s cravat to answer. “Oss invited me to tea.”
“And do you usually bring along street trash when you come calling?” He sneered.
“I thought he’d appreciate a host gift.” I blinked innocently back at the asshole.
Brenson was an excellent example of giving a family retainer too much power. A bit like the magistrate with his attitude toward those he thought were beneath him, with an extra helping of pettiness. He opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to further deride me, but I interrupted, not willing to test the strength of my back any longer.
“Are you going to let us in? I don’t want to keep Oss waiting.” I used my haughtiest tone that I will deny copying from my former lover.
He moved aside to give me more space than necessary. I ignored the whispered “duke’s whore.” A word dropped in Oss’s ear will be good enough to make him pay for that remark, especially when it cut to the bone that I wasn’t Justin’s anything anymore.
Spinning sharply, he marched down the hall.
An impish urge had me shouting. “Oss!”
“In here, Marbrey!” Oss yelled back. There was a reason we were such good friends.
I followed his voice to an open doorway. Oss stood in front of a small table laden with a beautiful tea service. When he caught sight of me, he groaned. “Why do you have Affie?”
“He stopped me on the street.” I didn’t mention the vision, not with Brenson’s big ears hoping to hear gossip to use against us.
“Brenson, go fetch a blanket to lay across the settee. Thorne will be cross with me if we get dirt on the furniture.”
I blinked at that blatant falsehood. Oss could set the furniture on fire and get a congratulatory kiss on the forehead for not burning down the entire townhouse. Oss had Thorne firmly wrapped around his finger and begging for a tighter twist.
Brenson returned before we could say another word between us. No doubt his fastidious nature didn’t appreciate a street person polluting the parlor.
As soon as the sheet covered the entire couch, I laid Affie down.
“Have the maid bring us some cold water and a bowl of broth,” Oss ordered.
Brenson vanished from the doorway without another word. His glare could fill a library of spite.
“You’re getting quite good at ordering him around,” I commended.
Oss’s mouth tilted into a smug smile. “It is quite enjoyable.”
I laughed. “I can imagine.”
“Now, what happened?” Oss waved a hand toward our unconscious friend.
“I was on my way here when Affie stopped me. He had a vision, then fainted.” I recounted our entire conversation, still confused on the meaning.
“Huh, well that is more than a little ominous.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Tea?” Oss waved a hand toward one of the fanciest tea sets I’d ever seen.
