Falcon looked at Silas frowningly. "Walk with me, if you please. Ling, will you guard my horse? Don't come too near him, you understand?"
The boy nodded and knelt about ten feet from the stallion, fixing him with a stern, no-nonsense gaze.
When they were safely out of earshot, Falcon said, "I take it you're in Town now to try and find his family. I presume you've checked with Bow Street?"
"Lord luv'yer, no sir! They'd put Ling in one o' them homes. On the Parish, sir." He said in a hoarse whisper, "Better orf dead, he'd be."
"Then—what the deuce d'you mean to do with him?"
"Keep me ogles open, and me listeners stretched out, sir." He shrugged philosophically. "But, tellyer the truth, I ain't all that eager. We've got used to each other. It's company, y'know. Sorta like—family, Mr. Falcon. Yus, I reckernize yer now, on account of I heard so much about yer and yer—er, looks. No offence."
"Hum. Where d'you live? How do you support yourself?"
"We was livin' in the country, wiv a—er, friend. Now we're in London I can sometimes get work as a gardener. Knows how to trim trees, I do. And Found's old enough to be a link boy."
"I suppose," muttered Falcon, "there are hundreds of such children, poor creatures."
"Thousands, mate. Some born on the wrong side o' the blanket, as they say. Some born in the gutter wivout no blanket at all. Some gen-you-wine orphans. The Big Smoke's teemin' wiv 'em. Teemin'!"
"Yes. It's a brutal world, unfortunately."
"Oh, I dunno. I reckon the world's orl right. Trouble comes when coves won't put up with the hand they're dealt, and go about whinin' and wishin' fer what they can't have."
Amused, Falcon said, "But surely the desire for better things is what brings progress. Does not every man have the right to try and improve his lot?"
"Ah, but—do it? Them as I've seen, once they start 'improvin' they're never satisfied. Oh, I know a few, sir, wot's fulla ambition to 'better' 'emselves. Claw and scratch every hour of the day they do. And one or two done well and made a nice bit of rhino. But seems ter me like the more they get, the less fun they have and the more miserable they is."
Falcon chuckled, then reached out. "Would you do me the favour of shaking my hand, Silas?"
The big man stared in amazement, spat on his palm, and wiped his hand on his breeches. "Lumme!" he exclaimed as they exchanged a firm grip. "Thank yer, sir, I'm sure. I—
Hey!" He blinked at the coins in his palm. "Nah—it's too much, sir! I'll admit I were hopin' you might drop me a shillin' or two, but—five guineas? Lor', Mr. Falcon, I won't know how to go on!"
"Just don't spend it all in a gin parlour. Buy some shelter and food for you and the boy, and think about giving him a proper name. Good luck to you, Silas."
Riding back to Great Ormond Street at a far more circumspect pace than when he'd left it, Falcon thought about the ill-assorted pair Fate had thrown together. He could still see the wistfulness in the child's eyes when he'd shaken his hand and said his farewells. Such a solemn face for a little boy.
The philosophical Silas put him in mind of Tummet. It was remarkable that a man who had not known the benefit of college or University, who very likely couldn't even write his own name, could yet be so wise. "Trouble comes when coves won't put up with the hand they're dealt, and go about whinin' and wishin' fer what they can't have." That was precisely what he must help Katrina to see, in spite of the interference of a certain female.
The thought of Gwendolyn banished the foundling and Silas from his mind. Why he permitted the chit to so cut up his peace was past understanding. She was a thorn in his flesh; a perpetual irritant who had the power to wound him as no one had wounded him for a very long time. And who could make him laugh, and had very bravely saved his life on Wednesday morning. He found that he was smiling at Andante's ears and pulled himself up sharply. It must cease. By God, it had better cease! The Smallest Rossiter must be removed from his house and from their lives! He sighed glumly. The prospect was less than joyous. She was such a lively little thing. Falcon House would seem devilish dull without her…
Shocked by the jab of a spur, Andante curvetted.
Falcon quieted him and apologized. And riding on, he set his jaw grimly. She must go. This time he would not—
dare
not weaken! For Katrina's dear sake!
"You said," Gwendolyn reminded as she walked along the upstairs corridor, "that Mr. August would be back 'fly-and-spoon.' I think that would mean 'dry-and-soon' but I hadn't the chance to ask you yesterday."
Balancing several snowy cravats on one large palm, Tummet said, "No, Miss Gwen, but you didn't oughta come up the back stairs 'long o' me. Bad fer the consequence of ladies like you, it is."
"Fiddle! Now tell me, is it 'dry-and-soon'?"
"Nah, mate. You almost got it right, though. 'Fly-and-spoon' means 'spry-and-soon.' Which is what the guv—" His jaw dropped and he stared with starting eyes as Falcon strode around the corner to come face-to-face with the very lady he'd hoped to avoid. "—Ain't!" finished Tummet feebly.
"Confound it!" thought Falcon, instinctively running a hand through his rumpled hair.
"Goodness!" exclaimed Gwendolyn. "Andante threw you?"
"Either that, or I threw him! You may take your pick, ma'am."
The ice in his eyes, the heavy brows drawn into the black bar above his nose, were all too familiar harbingers of his mood. Her heart sank, but she said calmly, "Thank you. I shall retreat and consider my choices."
"As soon as I have got rid of my dirt, I'll come down and we will consider them together," he said with grim emphasis. Watching her as she nodded and limped away, he called, "Where may I expect to find you?"
She turned back and said with a mischievous dimple, "But in the book room, of course, Mr. Falcon."
"Of course," he muttered, and followed Tummet into his parlour. "Well, what the devil are you smirking about? Did
you
never before hear of a man going heels over arse?"
" 'Course," said Tummet, proceeding into the bedchamber and tenderly disposing of the lacy cravats. "Just never knowed
you
ter take a flyer. Brung some o' the park wiv yer, eh Guv?"
Falcon caught sight of himself in the cheval glass, and shuddered.
"Didn't do that arm no good, did yer?" Tummet began to ease him out of his muddy coat. "Wot they call a not very protepinqshious journey?"
"By—Jupiter," said Falcon, eyeing him in awe.
"Proper jaw-breaker, ain't it?" Tummet grinned proudly. "Thought I'd never get me tongue 'round it, but I done, din't I? I'll be tossing him orf like you nobs 'fore you knows it!"
"God forbid! Where did you find that one? In your home away from home, I fancy."
"If you is referring to the Rose and Crown," said Tummet with a grand air, "no, Guv. A passable establishyment, but— not a word foundry, if y' take me meaning. Though a cove can pick up orl kindsa int'resting bits and pieces if—Cor! If Doc Sir Jim was to see this, he'd—"
"Oh, have done, man! Get some hot water and you can likely mend matters as well as that over-paid leech! And be quick, if you please! Miss Rossiter is waiting."
"Ar, but not wiv joyous antecedation," thought Tummet. He went into the corridor and sent a lackey running for hot water and some medical supplies. "And don't let Mrs. V. see yer get him," he warned, "else she'll come clucking and Mr. August'll raise a proper riot!" Returning to pull off Falcon's riding boots, he said, "That there Andy Dan's a ugly brute, and—"
"Andante."
"Orl right. That, then. But I wouldn't a thought he could send you—"
"Well, he did. Lord, but I'm all mud! Small wonder Miss Rossiter stared! I'll wear the purple coat and lilac breeches. And—you may put down that pomatum! My hair needs to be brushed, not turned into glue!"
Tummet groaned and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. For the next quarter-hour he was busily occupied. He was watching the careful placement of a large diamond amidst the lacy cravat when Falcon asked absently, "What did you mean about picking up interesting bits and pieces? Are rumours slithering about again?"
"Thick and fast, Guv." Tummet glanced at the door and lowered his voice dramatically. "Word is—he's come back!"
"Attila the Hun, no doubt."
"Don't know 'bout him, mate. I meant the Young Pretender!" Gratified by Falcon's astonished stare, Tummet nodded. "Ar. Charlie Stuart's come back to put Butcher Cumberland to the test again, so—"
"You're mad! Stuart had as lief present his head to German George on a platter, as to take such a chance! You should pay no heed to such rubbishing stuff!"
Annoyed, Tummet shrugged and said loftily, "You arst! I toldya wot they're saying."
Falcon scowled at him and stood for the white satin waistcoat to be slipped on. "And by 'they' you refer to your rum touches in the Rose and Crown? Much they know of international intrigues!"
"Yus, but that's just it, Guv! They
does
know. Word goes 'round the taverns like a house on fire! Why d'you 'spose that there friend o' yourn's allus hanging about? The stout lit'ry cove."
"Mr. Ramsey Talbot?" His attention arrested, Falcon looked up and said sharply, "
He
patronizes the Rose and Crown? Are you sure?"
"Once a week, at least, mate—whoops! Guv, I mean. And it ain't no gents club. Makes yer think, don't it?"
Falcon was thinking of it when he strolled down the stairs a few minutes later. There were any number of reasons why Ramsey Talbot might be lurking about the Rose and Crown, and certainly it would be worth making a push to learn what those reasons might be. But as for Bonnie Prince Charlie venturing onto British soil again… Nonsense! The Prince was brave and daring, but he was no fool, and it would be foolish in the extreme both to leave Paris, and to attempt to drum up support for another Uprising.
With an impatient shrug, he dismissed the matter from his mind, and strode with less than his customary briskness across the hall, only to pull up and stand frowning at the closed book room door, reluctant to attempt a task that should be so easy but had somehow assumed gigantic proportions.
"All you have to do, fool," he told himself, "is speak one brief sentence. 'Madam, be so good as to leave my house!' That's simple enough, surely? Vulgar, but simple." But this was not the first time he had nerved himself to utter those rude words, and on each occasion they stuck in his throat and he'd got no further than "Madam" before the Smallest Rossiter had started an argument, or made him laugh—or both—and he'd wound up like a silly idiot, postponing her ouster, and with the threat to Katrina looming ever larger. He set his jaw. Well, today he would not fail! He would be coldly detached and in complete control. She would not divert him from his One Brief Sentence. He would even practice that famous "li" business and be calm and dignified, neither raising his voice nor losing his temper.
He took a deep breath, clenched his hands and lost a good deal of his "li" when he saw that a lackey hovered nearby, watching him curiously. How long had he been standing here? The man must think him properly demented which would be a prime topic of conversation in the servants' hall! He stepped forward, the lackey pounced to fling the door open, and he stalked inside.
He had half hoped she would not be here but would have either sought Katrina's protection, or, better yet, have gone home to Rossiter Court rather than face what she must know would be an unpleasant interview with him. But there she was; sitting quietly in the window seat, engrossed in a book, and managing to appear small and fragile. "Another tome about my unhappy heritage," he thought, and sent such a glare at the lackey that the man fairly leaped back and shut the door with a loud click.
Gwendolyn closed the book and set it aside. Folding her hands in her lap, she looked at Falcon in her candid way, and waited.
He bowed. "At least you play fair, ma'am. You could have run."
"But I could not deny you your chance to scold me," she said meekly. "I am very sorry that you fell, August. I trust you did not further injure your arm."
She had scored at once, with that subtle reminder that she had saved his life when he was attacked. And it was truth, heaven knows, for how many females would have had the gumption to— He caught himself up and dragged back his resentment, saying with one of his more impressive scowls, "Had I not been obliged to be concerned for your safety, I'd not have taken the injury."
Gwendolyn shook her head and looked reproving. It had, he knew, been a mean remark, and he improved upon it. "You are expecting that I should thank you for shooting Green so deedily." He bowed again. "Very well, be advised that I am duly thankful, Miss Rossiter."
She said gently, "You did thank me, Mr. Falcon. At the time."
Gad, but the woman was cunning! The memory of sweeping her up and whirling her about, and of how slender and light she had been in his arms rushed upon him. He bit his lip and with an effort retaliated, "It was an inadequate return for the service you rendered. I shall have to find some more tangible way to—reward you."
She caught her breath, then said, "There. Now you have properly set me down and you will feel better."
He did not feel better. He felt utterly miserable, and he had barely begun! Drifting closer to her he drawled, "Shall I, indeed? I might do so were you able to explain to me by what right you persist in interfering in what don't concern you!"
"I had no right," she admitted repentantly, "and I am truly sorry for what happened with Lady Mount-Durward. Had I known—"
"And thereby hangs a tale, for there is such a great deal of our
personal business
you do not know, ma'am. And that is— I'll not wrap it up in clean linen—is none of
your
business! But ignorance doesn't stop you, any more than delicacy. You had the unmitigated impertinence to deliberately goad that dreadful—er, to goad Lady Hester into humiliating Katrina and me last evening, and—"
"No!" Distressed, she came to her feet and stretched out a hand pleadingly. "You cannot think that, August! I was upset because you were so spiteful toward Trina, but—"