Gilbert’s got no choice other than to continue to act confused and to pray to God this has nothing to do with Cecily.
“Price remembered where he knew you from.”
Gilbert swallows. “He did?”
“Mmmmhmmm,” says Marcus. “Told Kemp you was Cecily’s uncle. Which struck Kemp as mighty strange, considering you hadn’t mentioned it, even with all the fuss about her going missing.”
“I didn’t see how it was any of his business.”
“Well, he sure does think it’s his business. Thinks this proves she’s alive and you’ve been plotting how to get her out of town.”
Gilbert forces out a laugh. “That ain’t true.”
Marcus’s head goes crooked, trying to look at him out of his one good eye. “That’s what I told him.”
“And he didn’t like it?”
Marcus nods. “Kemp thinks you and me is in cahoots.”
“And you said we wasn’t?”
“It don’t matter what I say at this point. It only matters what he thinks.”
“Marcus, I’m sorry you got pulled into all this.”
“I don’t even know whatthisis.”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
“Don’t feel like nothing.”
Gilbert doesn’t know what to say. Marcus has been a good friend, but he can’t trust anybody with Cecily’s secret.
“You should probably know,” says Marcus as he stands to go, “that I told Kemp about the pass you wrote.”
“You what?”
“I had to tell him something to get back on his good side, and that’s the something I chose. Hope you can live with it, but if you can’t, it really ain’t my problem.”
In the alley, Gilbert hears the clip-clop of horses’ hooves.
Marcus nods his head in the direction of the door. “That’s them, most likely, coming to see if you showed back up.”
Gilbert is too stunned to speak.
Marcus taps the table with his knuckles. “Good night,” he says, and makes for the stairs that lead to the loft.
Kemp is through the door within seconds, and the first thing he does is order Gilbert against the wall, where he pats him down, while Price and the other men snicker. When he finds the now-familiar leather sleeve, he waves it over his head and removes the pass. Then he reads it aloud: “The slave Gilbert Hunt has my permission to pass to and from the smithy of Cameron Kemp, so long as he remains in the city proper and does not cause a nuisance.”
Gilbert winces.
“It’s funny,” says Kemp. “If I hadn’t just ripped your pass up, I could almost be convinced I wrote this.”
Even though Gilbert knows he’s going to have hell to pay, a not-small part of him appreciates the compliment.
“Where’d you learn to write like this?” Kemp asks.
If Louisa were alive, he’d never consider giving her name to Kemp.Now that she’s dead, he’s not sure it matters. But just in case it does, in case it could somehow come back around to hurt Sara, he says, “Pete Goode taught me.”
