“They are,” Adrian assured him.“Thank you.Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of our scullery maid.The fire claimed her life.”
“Fires are always a ghastly business.I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“I’m sure the blame lies with Finn O’Leary,” Adrian said.
Murdoch’s lips parted.“He was there?”
“Yes.Unfortunately, I was in no position to stop him, but I mean to resolve that later today.If you have some writing supplies I can use, I’ll pen a missive to the rest of the…” He glanced at Edward, cleared his throat, and chose to amend what he’d been about to say to, “…our friends.”
“Certainly.”Murdoch swept his hand toward the nearest door on the right.“Let’s have a seat in the parlor.I’ll fetch the writing supplies and ask the servants to prepare some refreshments.Which do you prefer?Tea or coffee?”
The question was mostly directed at Edward, whose preference Murdoch was not familiar with.
“Tea would be welcome,” Edward replied.
He followed Adrian into the parlor while Murdoch went to inform the servants and gather the writing supplies.When he came to join them a few moments later he brought a lap-desk containing all the necessary items.
Adrian prepared several pieces of parchment, then selected a quill and dipped it in the available inkwell.Meet me at the usual spot.Three o’clock.Don’t be late.One message, re-written seven times.Each one sealed with a blob of red wax and stamped with his signet ring.
He handed the pile to Murdoch who went to make sure they were dispatched by one of his errand boys.
“As I’m sure you can imagine,” Adrian told him when he returned, “I’m in need of a place to live.”
“It’s no rush,” Edward said, leaning forward slightly in his seat.“The Crofts are welcome to remain with me and my wife for as long as they need.”
“There are also my servants to consider,” Adrian said.“I’d like to get them out of their temporary lodgings and into something more permanent.So they can be together and help each other recover.So things can return to whatever state of normalcy is possible after something like this.”
“Of course,” Murdoch said.“I’m happy to provide you with a list of available properties for sale in the Mayfair area.”
“I’d rather rent,” Adrian said.“Even though it will probably take a few years to build a new house at Number 5, that is what I intend to do.Wherever I live until then will be temporary.”
“Understood.”Murdoch wove his fingers together in his lap.“I’ll find a few options and deliver them to you tonight.”
Adrian and Edward finished their teas, then set off to meet with The Globe.
26
James Murry held Lady Edwina’s hair while she vomited into the bucket he’d requested for exactly this purpose.Neither of them had slept much last night, only managing to catch an hour or less of rest before another feverish fit swept through her.
She gasped for air and he gently rubbed her shoulder, a calming motion intended to offer comfort.Tears filled her eyes and stained her pale cheeks.The stomach cramps the vomiting caused were painful because her stomach had very little to work with.She’d barely eaten anything while she’d been in his care, the nausea so bad she recoiled at the sight of the two meagre slices of buttered toast he’d suggested she try.
Tea seemed to be the only thing that soothed her a little.
“Please don’t go,” she muttered, her hand catching his when he started moving away from her.
Stunned by the over-familiar gesture, he froze, barely able to take his next breath.Her skin was so incredibly soft, cool to the touch, her hand so much smaller than his own.Delicate.
A warm sensation pierced his heart.Awareness settled deep in his chest.This felt good.More to the point, it felt right.
Worried about his response, he withdrew his hand from hers and instantly regretted the loss of contact.
He swallowed, retreated a step, taking the bucket with him and holding it between them, like some sort of shield.“I’d like to empty this and rinse it out.”
Her answering nod was so slight it was barely noticeable.She collapsed back onto her pillow, eyes closed, a groan of discomfort upon her lips.
James considered the sheets and blankets that had slid to her waist when she’d leaned over the bucket.A decent person would make sure they were properly arranged — pulled up over the soft curves of her…
He dropped his gaze, his fingers tightening around the bucket’s handle.There was nothing decent about him.In fact, if he didn’t end up in hell because of the people he’d killed, he’d surely do so for ogling an innocent lady’s attributes after she placed her trust in him.
