Page 23 of Hazard a Guest
“Funny,” said Cresson. “I thought it looked like it wanted to pull everything down to the sea floor.”
“Ah!” came the delighted Irish lilt of Ember Donnelly, apparently come to claim her own breakfast. “Good morning, lads! I thought you’d be abed ’til noon.”
Cresson turned, that tingling appearing back in his fingers, though he’d loosened his grip on the plate some minutes prior. “Good morning, Miss Donnelly,” he said softly, watching her swish into the room with the little red-haired girl at her side. “Did you sleep well?”
“Sweet Mr. Cresson,” she said with a grin, “do you know that’s the only time I’ve ever been asked that and felt like the other person genuinely hopes I did?”
Freddy nudged him when her back was turned, giving an eye roll, and nodded toward one of the tables nearest to their view.
“I did, by the way,” she continued after piling her plate with fruit and meat, an unusual combination, Joe thought, as people oft went with one or the other and a bit of bread. Ember had no bread at all. “I slept the sleep of the dead. How did you lot do?”
“The same,” said Joe as a pair of servants appeared with steaming kettles like two very starched red angels. “Better than I expected.”
“Oh, gloat all you want,” Freddy muttered. “I kept waking up sideways.”
“Oh, poor Freddy,” cooed Ember. “You’re always sideways.”
The younger woman seemed to hesitate before sitting down, and then only doing so because Ember herself gestured to the chair beside her. Her own plate was a delicate geometry of greens and cheese with a single boiled egg in the center like the core of a labyrinth.
“Miss Lazarus, isn’t it?” Joe put in, giving what he hoped was a reassuring little smile to the girl. “I’m Joseph Cresson. This is Frederick Hightower, Lord Bentley. We are friends of Miss Donnelly’s.”
Both Ember and Freddy reacted with expressions of mocking disdain at the sound ofFrederickbut did not otherwise protest.
“Oh,” said the girl. “It is a pleasure. Miss Donnelly has been so kind since her arrival last night. I am so very relieved to see a familiar face here.”
“You can call me Ember, sweeting,” came the reply, gentle but with a clear tone of reminder.
“Yes, we at this table should be using first names,” Freddy agreed with such immediacy that Joe felt the urge to groan. “I am Freddy. This one is Joseph.”
“Oh!” said the girl. “Well, I am Hannah. I confess it would be nice to hear my name from someone other than my papa.”
Freddy turned to Joe and grinned, as though he’d been perfectly aware of his annoyance and had just won anyway.
“Hannah arrived four days ago,” Ember explained. “She is keeping the notary seal for her father and assisting him with the recordkeeping of some of the larger wagers here. He wishes forher to understand the value of a shilling, even amidst the whims of wealth.”
“It’s a little alarming, to be honest,” put in Hannah Lazarus as she lifted a tiny silver spoon and whacked the side of her egg, sending a clean crack down its middle. “I’ve never seen such casual disregard for so very much money.”
“Yes,” said Freddy with a frown, “it seems like this might teach you the very opposite of reverence for gold, doesn’t it? That’s certainly what it taught me when I was your age or roundabouts. You are what? Nineteen? Twenty?”
“I am almost twenty-one,” Hannah confirmed, and it only deepened Freddy’s frown.
“Just stick to the notary seal,” he said with more weight than Joe thought him capable. “Don’t touch the dice.”
There was a beat of silence. Ember held aloft a fork skewered with a bit of bacon and a peeled slice of orange, watching Freddy with an inscrutable little wrinkle between her brows.
“Yes,” she said finally, and took a bite. “Yes, that’s good advice, my dear.”
“Coffee, please,” said Freddy to the servant with the silver urn, apparently already recovered from his moment of gravity. “With quite a bit of cream. More than that, my friend. Oh, yes! Perfect.”
The soft tinkle of liquid hitting porcelain made a fine interlude.
When it was his turn, Joe requested significantly less interruption to his own cup of coffee. He’d gotten a taste for it as it was, fresh and sharp, still dripping into the pot. The flavor had seemed significantly stronger in Portugal, he thought, sipping athis cup. Even without garnish, this cup tasted somehow more of water than of revitalization.
“Tea for me,” Ember put in, lifting her own empty cup like she wanted alms.
“Are you the barrister who works with Mr. Cain?” Hannah asked, blinking politely. “I have heard Mrs. Cain refer to a Mr. Cresson, I believe.”
It took Joe a moment to realize she was speaking to him, and when he did, he immediately colored at his own hesitation. “Yes, I am. How do you know the Cains, Miss Lazarus?”
