Page 60 of Hazard a Guest
“Of course he’s all right,” Ember said first. “He’s built like a combination of any three of the men in attendance.”
“Not so much his victim,” said Freddy, nudging Ember with his elbow and nodding toward the mustachioed man.
“Ohhh,” said Hannah, her eyes widening to nearly the full breadth of her face.
Ember’s attention snapped to the other girl. “Oh?” she repeated, much sharper, and when Hannah met her gaze, she announced she would be right back and stormed off toward the bruised gentleman.
“Look at that,” said Freddy fondly, “he’s about to get punchedagain.”
“Whoisthat?” Joe demanded, only to receive shrugs from the other two as Ember rounded on the poor sod like a she-wolf about to pounce.
Sadly, the theater of the thing was interrupted by Lord Penrose, who chugged up to them, holding a glass of wine in each handand seeming robbed of breath by the effort. “Lord Bentley!” he said with an edge of cheer that he only ever seemed to have for Freddy, specifically. “Will you have some wine?”
“Oh,” said Freddy, blanching, “I …”
“Yes,” said Joe, taking the wine for him. “I’ll hold it for you, Freddy.”
“Oh,” Freddy said again, with significantly more ease, “thank you, Joe.”
In an endeavor to intercept any confusion from their host, Joe immediately leapt into a new turn of conversation. “Lord Penrose, our friend Lord Bentley was just telling me about the excursions you’ve offered in previous years. Is it true there is a smuggler’s cove attached to the property?”
Penrose brightened, immediately and effectively distracted. “Well, of course there is, my boy! How else would the house have gotten its name? Have you a taste for seeing it?”
“Oh, I do!” said Hannah, which clearly startled Penrose.
“You do?” he said, staring at her like he’d never seen her before as he released a delighted chuckle. “Do you really, my girl? I can’t promise any dashing privateers are still hiding within.”
“Why, Lord Penrose.” The girl blinked with far more guile than Joe would have believed she contained. “You’re the only dashing privateer we’ll need.”
“Oh!” said Penrose, chortling. “Oh ho ho.”
Joe endeavored not to roll his eyes, looking over his shoulder in search of Ember. Sadly, he had missed whatever interaction had just occurred between the lady and the bruised man, but helooked green on his unbruised half and she looked very pleased with herself, marching back toward them, curls trembling, her blue skirts swinging like a tolling church bell.
“Ah!” she said as she reached them, taking the glass of wine from Joe’s hand. “You’ve brought me wine. Thank you, Lord Penrose.”
And Joe fell in love all over again.
Later,once the tables were thrumming in earnest, Joe made a point of passing near the bruised man. He still didn’t know exactly what the gent had done, but the fact that Ember seemed supportive of his injury was enough for Joe to feel a twinge of satisfaction that the man also appeared to be freshly divested of one of his back teeth.
He didn’t support violence, of course.
Of course not.
All the same, perhaps the tooth was better off now.
He stopped for a time to observe Ember winning a large pot, applauding with the rest of the gathered audience when she clapped her hands together in delight.
“What’s her club called?” a man was asking another. “Bridget’s?”
“Brigid’s Forge,” Joe corrected. “St. James Wood.”
When she joined him after leaving the table, she did so with exuberance, taking his arm and bouncing on her toes with a littlefit of elation at her recent performance. “Did you see that?” she asked excitedly. “He thought he had me.”
“They always do,” said Joe, looking down at her with a little grin, “don’t they?”
“Indeed,” she agreed, tittering.
They walked toward the refreshment table together, her hands threaded through his elbow. Joe felt as though everyone in the room was watching, though he supposed it was unlikely they had any audience at all. Still, it felt conspicuous. It felt so extremely visible.
