Page 76 of King's Man

“No.” He tapped the half-drunk jug of ale at his elbow. “Need to stay fly tonight.”

“Let me guess,” Sam said, when Moses had left them. “Tonight’s business involves the elusive Mr. Wessex.”

“Guess what you like.” Cole grinned. “I ain’t likely to tell one of his known associates, am I?”

He snorted. “Hardly an associate. I’ve bought a few baubles from him, that’s all. Never even seen his face — he’s careful to stay hidden.” Sam lifted a teasing eyebrow. “Pretty blue eyes, though.”

“Sod off. The man’s a bleedin’ menace. The nobs are terrified of crossing the heath, even by day, for fear of being spiced by the bugger.”

Nobs like John MacLeod. “My heart bleeds for them.”

Cole flashed a grin. “Aye, well. If they want to pay me three hundred quid to nab the bloke, I ain’t complaining.”

Behind them, the door opened, letting in a draft of cold air. Sam turned, hoping to see Nate, disappointed when it was a stranger. Damn, but he wished it weren’t such a foggy night.

Cole gave an exaggerated groan. “Bleedin’ hell, look at you.” But when Sam turned back around, he saw the end of a melancholy smile fading from Cole’s lips. “Expecting your ‘dear friend’?”

“He’s been hours.”

“Must be nice to —” Cole checked himself with a shake of the head and leaned forward. “Listen. I hope you’re being careful. No mushy love letters with your name signed to ’em, alright? Nothing damning.”

“Cole…” He spread his hands. “I’ve got nothing to fear from Nate.”

“Aye, that’s what everyone says until they’re up before the beak and their ‘dear friend’ is running the other way, or claiming they was forced against their will. Just ask Hal Foxe.”

That was the last thing Sam would ask Hal, but the point was moot. “I guess you won’t understand until you meet your own…dear friend. But believe me, when you do, you’ll know why it’s worth the risk.”

“I hope I ain’t so unlucky.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Speak of the devil…”

Sam looked around again, smiling in relief at the sight of Nate weaving his way through the tables toward them holding a suspiciously book-shaped package under one arm. Standing, Sam greeted him with a brief embrace, and even that fleeting contact set him grinning. To hell with Cole’s despairing shake of the head, Sam was happy, and he didn’t care who knew.

Nate dragged a chair over, pulling off his muffler and greatcoat. His hair was fog-damp, his cheeks pink from the cold. Sam could have kissed him right there, but he could feel Moses’ eyes on them from the bar. A certain degree of decorum was required, even at the Bowl. “Sorry I’m so late,” Nate said, draping his greatcoat over the back of his chair and setting his books on the table. “I got a little, uh, distracted.”

“Don’t bother me,” Cole said with a smirk. “Hutch was panicking, though.”

“I was not.” But Nate’s fond smile, his hand squeezing Sam’s knee in apology, made him add, “It’s a filthy night.”

“Couldn’t see two yards in front of my face in Finsbury Square,” Nate agreed, “even with a link boy showing me the way. Took forever to get back.”

“A link boy?” Cole looked horrified. “Don’t trust those little buggers on a night like this, Tanner. They’ll lead you straight to a rampsman’s crew.”

Nate lifted an eyebrow. “And yet, I live.”

Beneath the table, Sam took Nate’s hand. “Next time, I’m coming with you. And no argument.”

Nate didn’t argue, he just smiled, Sam smiled back and for a moment the room was empty of everything else. Nate’s eyes were darkest brown tonight, lit by a golden flicker of candlelight. A lock of his damp hair had come loose, and Sam pushed it back from his face, unthinking.

With a noise of disgust, Cole got to his feet. “There’s only so much billing and cooing a decent cove can take.”

“Apologies,” Nate said. “Don’t go, we —”

Cole held up a hand to stop him. “I must. I’ve business of a lucrative nature to be done tonight.” He grinned. “With luck, I’ll be back tomorrow to celebrate the unmasking of a certain gent of our mutual acquaintance.”

“I wish you luck, then,” Sam said, “although Wessex has been a good client of Hal’s.”

“I dare say Hal’s empire will survive his loss.” Cole took a final swig of his ale and set the jug down. “Gentlemen, enjoy your evening of soppy poetry, or whatever it is you get up to together.” He gave Sam a smile, rather more wistful than teasing. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Nate lifted a curious eyebrow as Cole wound his way between the tables and slipped out into the fog. “Poetry?”

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