He pulled free. “I have no wish to rehash our relationship, Louisa.”
“Is that why you haven’t answered my letters?”
“I’ve been away.” He sounded as though he was going to leave it there, but added, “Even so, I wasn’t going to respond. It’s over between us. It has been for some time. We’ve both moved on. You’re married, so I hear.”
She winced and folded her arms across her stomach. “We rushed into it. I should never…” She shook her head.
“You should never have chosen a husband purely because he’s a magician?” Oscar gave a hollow laugh. “We all warned you, Louisa.”
“He’s a good husband. At least, he tries to be. But I don’t love him. I still have feelings for you.” She suddenly reached for his hands again. “My affection for you is stronger than ever.”
He removed his hands and stepped back. “I’m sorry, but any lingering feelings I harbored for you have now completely vanished. Go back to your husband, or don’t. I don’t care. Goodbye, Louisa. Don’t try to contact me again.”
“Is there someone else?” she called out as he walked away.
She couldn’t see his smile, but I could. “Yes.”
“Who?”
He didn’t answer. He joined me and we continued walking. I glanced back to see Louisa climbing into the cab. “That encounter helped prepare me for our next port of call,” Oscar said. “How about you?”
I wasn’t ready to visit Lady Coyle, but I never would be. She was as hospitable as a rainy day at the park. This visit was even worse than the last one, thanks to the noise and activity. The noise came from her son, Valentine, crying somewhere in the house. The activity came from men removing her furniture.
“Selling a few more things?” Oscar asked, casually.
“It’s none of your business.” She stood in the middle of the empty entrance hall, chewing on a thumbnail as two men struggled to carry a large armoire across the tiles.
“It’s not a voluntary sale, then.”
Her icy glare slid to him. “What do you want?”
“We want to tell you what a low act it was to notify Defoe about the book in Kinloch’s possession. You knew we’d try to purchase it from him after reading his letter to your husband.”
“You’ve said your piece, now leave.” She strode to the door, a signal for us to exit.
Upstairs, Valentine’s crying got louder. Lady Coyle didn’t react. Surely, she heard him. I had a mind to find the child myself. He was clearly in need of comforting. From the angry look on his mother’s face, he wasn’t going to get any comfort from her.
“We should go,” I said quietly to Oscar.
He nodded but didn’t move. “I hope Defoe paid you well for your betrayal,” he said to Lady Coyle.
“Betrayal?” Lady Coyle scoffed. “I owe you nothing. You and your vile, perverted friend got what you wanted?—”
“My what?” Oscar bellowed.
“He’s one of those men who likes other men. It’s obvious to everyone. Are you and he special friends?”
I pushed Oscar through the door before he could inflame the situation. He surprised me, however, by offering no resistance.
“Bloody awful woman,” he said. “Ignore her, Gavin.”
My strides lengthened in my eagerness to get away from Lady Coyle. And from Oscar, too. I couldn’t face him, not with my cheeks flaming. I felt hot all over, my collar too tight for my neck. I loathed that my body couldn’t control its visceral reactions. Life would be so much easier if my emotions weren’t on full display for everyone to witness.
Oscar came up alongside me, as calm as could be. He probably didn’t even realize I was rushing. “It doesn’t bother me that she thinks you and I are more than friends. Nobody else thinks that. Anyway, she was probably just lashing out because she was angry at her furniture being taken away. Seems she really is struggling financially.”
I stayed silent, despite the jumble of responses vying for space in my head.
“It’s all right, though.” Oscar sounded hesitant. He was rarely hesitant. “It doesn’t affect our friendship, nor will it stop us traveling together. Your interest in men doesn’t?—”
