The throng surrounding her grew denser. Maybe it was she should take the short cut between the buildings. Most were flush, joined with nary a sliver to be seen. Some, however, had narrow alleys, and she’d often employed their use, darting through town all the faster because she had knowledge of these lanes—
She stopped stock still in the middle of the street, unmindful of the looks she garnered. There, removing himself with a skip in his step and his fine hat and cane, was Llewellyn.
What was he doing here? Surely this part of town would be beyond his notice, too rough to support his romantic visions of the West, too poor to tempt him to dip into his pockets. Only… Something about him looked different.
She frowned. Well hell, who cared if he looked different? That was a contemplation for later, when both of their safety had been assured. She needed to be off these streets before she drew notice she didn’t need, and she would not allow the Englishman to linger where harm might come to him. It was all well and good to pretend doltishness when folk would merely smile fondly and let you be, but here, if he spoke in his crisp English voice and made some cockeyed statement, it was possible he would end with a knife in him.
Time tumbled backward, and she saw the knife in Seth’s gut, bright blood spilling from between his fingers as he gripped the wound. Her heart pounded in her ears, a scream of denial drowning out the shouts of men as they crowded around Seth’s body.
It would not happen. Not again. Not to this man, with his dark eyes and fool notions.
Hurrying to intercept him, she pasted a smile on her face, though her heart beat a frantic rhythm and her hands felt clammy with sweat. “Mr Llewellyn! I was just thinking I needed an escort through town and then you appear, as if the angels themselves are seeking to answer. Come, will you walk with me a ways?”
He whirled around and she saw his surprise before he disguised it behind his idiot’s grin. “Mrs Reynolds! I thought those were your dulcet tones, but whatever are you doing in this rough portion of Ironwood? Ah! Dare I hope you have happened to discern I would be here and sought to bisect my path? Bring joy to my heart, dear lady, and tell me it might be so.”
Why was he saying such stupid things when he could be harmed at any damn moment? “If it will get you from this part of town to the next with no argument, then believe it to be so.” She started to drag him off.
“Dear lady, I would be pleased to go with you, only what shall my companion say?”
“What?” Reality dawned, and she stood once more in a muddy street. Seth was five years dead, and Llewellyn was not in imminent danger.
Briefly, she closed her eyes. Well hell. How was that for an overreaction? How could she think this was the same? Seth had died on the floor of the Diamond, his murderer held by the patrons of the saloon as he’d breathed his last. Llewellyn stood in the middle of an Ironwood street, ostensibly in no more danger than usual and seeming as empty-headed as ever.
Exhaling, she rubbed her forehead then steeled herself to look at the companion Llewellyn had indicated. The man regarded her with frank astonishment. Heat burned in her cheeks. How could she have failed to notice him? Truth be told, he was nondescript, clothed as was every other man in this area. Rumpled garb, unshaven face, greying hair— He and the Englishman were companions?
Llewellyn beamed at them both. “Mrs Reynolds, this is my manservant. Manservant, Mrs Reynolds.”
Belatedly, she remembered tell of Llewellyn’s companion, the one he seemed so surprised she knew of.
With a scowl for Llewellyn, the man turned to tip his hat to her. “A pleasure, Missus, but I’ll have to cut short the pleasantries as you ain’t safe in this part of Ironwood.”
“Thank you for your concern, sir, but I often come this way.” Pretending ignorance, she arranged her features to a pleasant smile. “And your name, sir?”
The man’s scowl intensified. “If the boy had a lick of sense, he would’ve told you afore now. Smith, ma’am. Donald Smith.”
She held out her hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance also, Mr Smith.”
Enclosing her hand with his own, he gave her a gentle shake. “Are you sure about your safety, Missus? I’d be happy to walk back with you.”
“Thank you for your kindness, Mr Smith, but I don’t require your assistance. Much obliged, all the same.” Smith’s gaze drifted over her head, presumably to meet Llewellyn’s. His eyes widened at whatever he read in the other man’s face.
Brows drawn, he returned his gaze to her. “If you’re certain, ma’am, I’ll leave you be. My business with the boy is done, and I’ve a need to be elsewhere. I’d best be on my way. Ma’am.” He tipped his hat again before regarding Llewellyn. “Boy.” The word was decidedly colder.
“Manservant.” Llewellyn watched the other man go and, once he’d departed, turned to her with a wide grin. “Mrs Reynolds, it appears I require your escort after all.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”
She curled her hand around his forearm, and they started down the road.
From beneath her lashes, she regarded him. Now they were together, and she weren’t having no more fool notions about blades and such, she could see what was different. He was...duller. His coat was not as new, his waistcoat a decent colour, and his hair had not been oiled within an inch of its life.
However, she wasn’t to ponder these curiosities long, as Llewellyn seemed of a mind to converse. “Have you been busy in the days since last we met?” Llewellyn asked. “We certainly have. My manservant, Smith, has been looking into procuring us more permanent lodgings in the town. The boarding house is a delightful establishment, and Mrs Bartel is dear to my own heart, but I feel we would make a better showing of ourselves if our residence was one of permanence. Smith has made many inquiries, but we are yet to discover something singularly suited to our purposes.”
He barely took a breath between words, a steady stream of chatter that seemingly had no end. How on earth did he do it? If she attempted to stymie someone with such a tactic, she ran out of words not more than three minutes in. With him, it had been a good five and still he continued.
While he chattered on, she looked about their surroundings. Now she had the company of a man—even if it were a man some might think easily taken—she could risk the shortcuts. Changing their direction, she steered them to the nearest alley.
Llewellyn adjusted to her change, but not without question. “I say, where are we going? Do not say we are going down this alley?”
“We are. We’ll return to our abodes much quicker if we do.” Curling her hand further around his arm, she urged him into the alley. It was narrow, a place where two buildings didn’t join for some reason. It zigged and zagged along both, the structures being of odd shape and twisted besides.
