Page 30 of Thief Taker

Cole cleared his throat, shifted his feet and blew out a cloudy breath into the cold night.

The streets were quieter now, but Kit could still hear the low rumble of coaches and the distant cries of hawkers plying their night-time trades. A hackney coach trundled past, the jarvey driving carefully as the mud began to freeze into ruts. Kit took a breath and decided to offer Cole a truth of his own. “My father,” he said, “was an honourable man, too. In his way. He would have thought so, at least. But he is in his dotage now and since my return from New York he hasn’t recognised me. He lives in…in a twilight world that we cannot reach. He’s lost all his dignity, and can’t even—” He breathed out, leaden with the memory of it and the risk he was taking by telling Cole. “He is no longer master of himself, or his estates.”

Cole watched him, his expression guarded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That ain’t fair in anyone’s book.”

“No. My sister nurses him at Ashbourne. Nobody…” He thought again of Hartwell’s warning, but it was too late now; he’d already made his choice. “Aside from my brother and sister, and those caring for him at Ashbourne, nobody else knows the extent of my father’s deterioration but you.”

And the bloody solicitor, he added silently.

Cole tipped his head, curious. “Why are you telling me this?”

It was a pertinent question, and the same question Hartwell would have asked. To him, Kit would have said it was because he needed Cole to trust him. He needed Cole to believe he was a good man. Too good to be Wessex.

To Cole, he said, “A man is known by the company he keeps. Mr. Salter, by all accounts, keeps very unpleasant company. So does my brother. I, on the other hand, would…” He swallowed, because surely this was going too far? But survival sometimes meant taking a risk. “I would be honoured to call you a friend, Mr. Cole.”

Startled, Cole said, “That’s not—We can’t be friends, sir.”

“Says who?”

He laughed. “Says the world.”

“I don’t much care for the world’s opinion when it comes to my friends.” And that was no lie; the world would see him hang for some of his friendships.

Cole cast him a wary look. “It takes a deal of courage to defy the whole world.”

“To tell the world it does. But to defy it in your heart is simple; that only takes honesty.”

Cole was thoughtful, frowning down at the ground. “It’s dangerous, though, that kind of honesty.”

And, God, but they were tiptoeing around something now. Kit stood on the lip of the precipice. If he did this, if he trusted Cole with this—if he gave Cole another rod to beat him with—he would be crossing the Rubicon. But his back was to the wall and what choice did he have? If he was right about Cole, this shared truth would bind them together irrevocably, giving each a power of destruction over the other. It could ruin him, yes, but maybe it could save him.

Carefully, he said, “It’s worth the risk when it’s warranted.”

A beat of silence, then: “And what makes you think it’s warranted now?”

“Because you and I are… alike.” Cole didn’t reply, nor did he deny it. Kit added, “We both have our secrets and know how to keep them from the world, but I believe you’re a good and honest man, Cole. And I hope you can think the same of me.”

There, he’d set out his stall; would Cole buy what he was offering?

Cole hesitated, no doubt making a calculation of his own. Then, after studying him for a long moment, he gave a curt nod and, to Kit’s relief, offered his hand. “Friends, then.”

Could it be that easy to win his trust? He examined Cole’s face but could see no deception there. Cautiously, he took Cole’s proffered hand, his work-roughened grip strong and warm. “Friends.”

A wordless look lingered between them, their grip holding. A secret that could not be spoken, shared and acknowledged. The dice had been rolled.

Cole turned sharply away, dropping Kit’s hand, as the front door to Marlborough’s house opened. “Look,” he said. “Your brother.”

Sure enough, James was leaving the house. Marlborough loomed at his shoulder and behind them followed a half dozen other men—Kit recognised Osborne, Cavendish, and Salter among them. And then they were lost behind the carriages being brought around to the front.

“We’ll have to follow on foot,” Cole said. “If you’re game for a chase.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

He flashed a boyish grin. “That it is, sir.”

When Kit smiled, something unfurled in the centre of his chest. Something surprisingly warm and bright in the middle of this cold, grey winter.

Something unspeakably risky.