The Queen's Librarian (17 page)

She hadn’t blamed Lucas. She, in fact, seemed to think Lucas could do no wrong. Which was a nice switch, actually. Auntie Del was a remarkable woman, and Lucas loved her dearly.

It was only that she was also a rather… boisterous woman. And a bit loud.

“You were so worried, and look!” Auntie Del threw her free hand up toward the sky. “Sun and to spare! Your Uncle Harland’s people have already got half the wheat in, and the spinach!” Her hand fluttered to her heart. “I don’t know what we’ll do with it all, though Mara over to Crossley says that theirs didn’t fare so well and she knows several markets that will be wanting some bushels, and
oh
! Have you been out to your father’s vineyard?” She didn’t give Lucas time to even shake his head. “Tarrance tells me not a lick of mildew
or
root rot. Didn’t I tell you so? And you worried like a midwife with six mothers laboring at once. It’s like the Green Warden slipped through overnight and just….” She let go of Lucas’s hand and yanked him into a hug. “Just took us to his bosom and blessed the whole of Orchard Downs.”

Lucas’s smile turned a little sick. Auntie Del would likely change her mind rather quickly when she found out what—or, rather,
whom
—Lucas had apparently accidentally traded for the good weather.

“You do such a wonderful job, Lucas dear,” Auntie Del said and shoved Lucas back and away from where his face had been smashed into her rather ample bosom. Before Lucas could straighten his spectacles, she snatched his hand again. “I don’t know how you—”

“Auntie Del, it wasn’t… I mean,
I
didn’t—”

“Pish!” Auntie Del put on a teasing glare. “‘As the Master goes, so goes the land,’ that’s what the Writ says. Are you going to argue with the Writ? And where is your ribbon, dear? Your hair is a mess.”

With a tutting cluck of her tongue, Auntie Del whipped a bright purple ribbon from the brim of her hat and manhandled Lucas until he turned around. And yeah, where
was
his ribbon? He’d had one this morning, he knew he had—Alex had come up with it from… somewhere during all the ruckus at the inn. Plucked it off of some magical ribbon tree, for all Lucas knew, and with the way things had been going lately, it was certainly possible.

Lost on too many levels to count, Lucas blinked dazedly up at Alex as Auntie Del went about taming the apparent mess that Lucas’s hair had become. Alex—whose hair was still damnably bloody
perfect
, of course—gave Lucas a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Er,” said Lucas.

“There you are, lad,” came right before Lucas was whipped around again to face Auntie Del. “Such a handsome young man Rolling Green has got for our Master.” She ignored Lucas’s blush and Alex’s grin and gave the plasters on Lucas’s cheek and temple a tight-lipped look. With narrowed eyes, she straightened Lucas’s spectacles and smoothed down his lapels, then turned to Alex. “And you, young Mister Booker.”

Alex’s back instantly straightened, and he snapped out a sharp “
Yes
, ma’am” that almost made Lucas snort, but he kept it in.

“What’s happened to his face?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Not you too.” Did
everyone
think he was a delicate flower?

“Oh, don’t look so cross, Lucas dear.” Auntie Del ran her thumb lightly over the bruise on Lucas’s temple, just below the plaster. “I know very well that you’re a grown man who can not only take care of himself but the whole of Orchard Downs.” She patted his cheek. “But that doesn’t mean your young man can’t take care of you, as I’ve no doubt you take care of him.” Her eyes turned soft and her hand on Lucas’s cheek went gentle. “So much like your father. And you look so much like him—have I ever told you that?”

She had. Lots of times. But hearing it again always made something in Lucas’s chest go soft and warm.

Auntie Del gathered herself with a deep breath and a sharp “
So
.” She turned to Alex. “What happened to my nephew?”

“I’d tell you, Mistress Sunderson,” Alex replied with a suave grin, “but you know our Lucas—doesn’t like to brag. Let’s just say that he ran across some… resistance while on the Queen’s business, and acquitted himself quite impressively.”

Well. Not
entirely
a lie, if looked at through the right lens. And at least it sounded better than
got into a fight with a bush and then brained himself on a desk, but the first one doesn’t count because the bush started it.

The part about “the Queen’s business” startled Lucas a little, but it seemed to sail right by Auntie Del. Clearly, the news hadn’t traveled yet from Red Bridge and she had no idea Laurie—in point of fact, her great-nephew, something something removed—was missing. Apparently no one did, about which Lucas hadn’t really thought before, but for which he was thankful now. Because he kind of liked that Auntie Del thought he could do no wrong. He didn’t look forward to the next time he saw her, by which time she’d surely have heard that Lucas had lost his cousin—and her great-nephew, something something removed—to a Daimin.

“The Queen, mm?” Auntie Del’s mouth tightened and she gave Lucas a speculative look. “You watch that girl. You’re a very clever boy, Lucas, but your heart is sometimes too generous, I fear. My niece has a way about her, you know. She’ll
say
she awarded you the position of Royal Librarian out of nepotism and because you’re brilliant and she adores you, but soon enough she’ll turn you into a spy or… or an
assassin
!”

Lucas didn’t know which part of that was more fantastical—the spy part or the assassin part. Or the part where Auntie Del genuinely seemed to believe that Lucas could be either.

Or maybe it was the part where Auntie Del had just called the Queen “that girl.”

“I don’t think you have any worries there, Auntie,” Lucas assured her. “I’ve enough on my plate without yet another job.”

“Well….” Auntie Del eyed Lucas up and down first and then turned to Alex and did the same before returning to her scrutiny of Lucas.

Lucas tried the same debonair smile Alex was sporting, but by the lift of Auntie Del’s eyebrow, he suspected it came off more as “manic.”

“If you say so, I suppose,” Auntie Del allowed. She sighed and shook her head with a quirk of her lips. “You do look happy.” With a sniff, she turned back to Alex. “Whatever you’re doing to keep my nephew smiling like that,” Auntie Del told him, “do keep on, or I shall have you beaten. I know your parents and I suspect they’d approve.” Her expression was affable and teasing, but she’d lifted her hand to shake her finger in front of Alex’s nose.

Alex was too obviously trying not to stare cross-eyed at it. “Um. Yes, ma’am.” He slid a smirky grin at Lucas. “I try, ma’am.” He looked back at Auntie Del, deftly avoiding getting jabbed in the eye by her pokey finger. “I was trying only a little while ago, in fact. To make him smile, that is. Alas, you know our Lucas—won’t let himself be distracted when there are important things to attend.”

Before Lucas could process the appalling innuendo in that—and the fact that Alex had made said innuendo to
Lucas’s aunt
—Auntie Del’s finger swung across to level with Lucas’s nose this time. He didn’t do as good a job at not going cross-eyed.

“Heed your elders, young man, Master or no,” Auntie Del scolded. “A happy Master makes for a happy people.” Her eyebrow went up. “I know all too well the ‘distractions’ of young men, and it can only do us good come the sowing season.”

Um. What?

Did she just… was that…
sowing season
?

Oh my god. Was she actually standing in a public stable yard alluding to… fertility and…
stuff
?

“Perhaps you could mention that to Mistress Tripp,” Alex grumbled, not
quite
under his breath.

Lucas shot him a betrayed look of panic as he felt his cheeks catch fire.

“She still after those redheaded grandchildren?” Parry put in.

Lucas’s mouth dropped open in horror.

They were discussing his sex life. They were discussing his
sex life
. With Auntie Del. In public. And he was standing
right here
.

“Feh!” said Auntie Del and patted Lucas’s flaming cheek in a gesture that was likely meant to be comforting but was, in fact, only adding to the sudden lightheadedness and churning of his stomach. “’Tisn’t from the Master’s loins the abundance must flourish, but the Master’s blood.” She leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. “I think your sisters are taking care of all that right enough, yes?”

Lucas couldn’t answer. He might actually be having an out-of-body experience.

… And did she just say “loins”?

“Did she just say ‘loins’?” Alex whispered.

“P’raps I’ll have a bit of a chat with my late brother’s wife next time I see her,” Auntie Del said with a nod and a disturbingly eager glint in her eye.

Lucas made his throat work enough to wheeze, “Please don’t,” but he didn’t think the sound carried.

“Oh, I’m sure that would be quite enlightening,” said Parry.

“Yes, but for whom?” Alex wanted to know.

“Well, for all, I’ve no doubt,” Parry replied. “Word does get about, here in our little village.”

His grin was almost as charming as Alex’s. Lucas wanted to punch both of their smug, handsome faces. He tried to tell Parry to shut up and Alex to stop enjoying this so much; it came out his constricted throat sounding like the thin, queasy whistle of a defective kettle.

“Are you feeling well, Lucas dear?” Auntie Del was looking a little concerned now. “You’ve gone a bit….” Her eyebrows drew together. “Well, I’m not quite certain what color that is, really. Not
quite
green, but—”

“I’ve no doubt he’s merely thinking of all the matters he must attend this afternoon,” Alex cut in.

“Oh, yes, dear me, and I should let you attend them.” Auntie Del stepped in for another hug. “Do call on us soon, dear—your uncle and I don’t see nearly enough of you since you’ve taken the post at the Library. And tell that sister of yours that I won’t wait forever to meet this new young man she’s been keeping so secret.”

Which one?
Lucas didn’t ask. Tress, who was apparently being not-really-courted by Anson bloody Booker, or Clara, who had been not-really-jilted by someone who didn’t seem to exist? Lucas clamped his teeth together. Either direction could only end in tears. Or disappointed looks. Which would bring on the tears.

Auntie Del primly kissed Lucas’s cheek, and then, decidedly
un
primly, whispered, “And do let your young man
distract
you, Lucas dear. The years during which one can enjoy such things don’t last nearly long enough.
Trust
me, I
so
wish they did.”

Lucas’s too-active and very
not funny
imagination helpfully provided him with a picture of a gloomy-faced Uncle Harland and then promptly started shrieking,
Oh my god, I can’t know that about you!

Auntie Del pulled away and politely didn’t notice Lucas choking on his own tongue.

With a cheeky grin that said he’d heard every word, Alex set a hand to the small of Auntie Del’s back and began to lead her toward her carriage and the waiting Brent. Lucas only stared after them, eyes wide and mouth still hanging open. If the world was at all kind, the ground should be opening up any second now to swallow him.

“I’ll look after him, Mistress Sunderson,” Alex assured Auntie Del. “You know our Lucas, always thinking ahead and never stopping to….”

Luckily, his voice trailed off the farther away he got, so Lucas couldn’t hear Alex telling Auntie Del what Lucas never stopped to do. But he was sure it was something vaguely filthy wrapped up in subtle intimation, and he really—

No, what was he thinking? There had been nothing vague or subtle about the past five minutes. For all Lucas knew, Alex was happily telling Auntie Del all about the three new positions they’d tried at the inn last night, so that Auntie Del would have something to talk about to whomever she met along the way back to wherever she was going with that carriage, because
word does get about, here in our little village
.

God. Lucas would never be able to look Uncle Harland in the eye again.

Why
was the ground not opening up and swallowing him?

“So, how did Red Bridge work out for you?” Parry asked Lucas.

It took quite a lot of willpower for Lucas to stop staring after Alex and Auntie Del in dull horror and turn his probably somewhat dazed stare on Parry. And then it took even more willpower to not let his eyes wander down to the gap in Parry’s still—
still
!—unbuttoned shirt.

“Uhn?”

Parry smirked. “Red Bridge,” he repeated. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Looking… Red Bridge,” Lucas echoed slowly. And then the gears engaged again and he said, “Oh.”

Right. There was still a sister with a runaway groom to worry about. He cleared his throat.

“No. Or, rather, yes. I think.” Lucas shook his head and slumped. “Well, I expect it depends on what I was supposed to be looking for. But I didn’t find Slade. Or anyone who knew him.”

Strangely, Parry looked as dismayed by the news as Lucas felt. “He wasn’t
there
?”

“Uh… no?” Lucas tilted his head. “Why? Did you hear some—?”

“Are you
sure
? Maybe you just missed him somehow.”

Now Lucas frowned. “Well, anything’s possible, Parry, but I assure you that I asked about quite thoroughly and no one’s ever heard of him.” And Lucas had no doubt that anyone he might’ve missed, the local constables and whomever Dorset had left behind wouldn’t. And speaking of Dorset—“Parry, did Cráwa come to see you a little while ago?”

Parry didn’t answer the question, but he paused for quite a while, his expression… well, he looked worried, but Lucas couldn’t imagine why something like this would have such an effect on someone not involved even a little in the periphery.

“Huh.” Parry finally said. “Imagine that.” He took a small step closer. “And have you thought at all about what I said?”