Page 74 of Hazard a Guest
He watched her go with the kind of stunned numbness that made Freddy roll his eyes, grab Joe by the sleeve, and pull him off to their own duties for the morning.
“You’re lost, you know,” Freddy told him. “Completely lost.”
“Yes,” said Joe. “I know.”
Freddy grinned at that, perhaps approving, perhaps just recognizing it with fond memory, and rather than gloat or tease, he’d just said, “I’m glad we’ll be going back to London early. I hate it here, I think.”
It reminded Joe, with a start, that Freddy still lived in his flat. They hadn’t talked about that at all, and honestly, he’d find it odd imagining the other man going elsewhere in any nearing timeline.
He followed Freddy into his room, a little den of carefully curated clutter with half-read books stacked on the windowsill next to a pile of what looked like seashells and clothes arranged by color in a wardrobe that still hung open from his choices that morning.
It was not the firm tidiness that Joe had found in his own flat or the homey disarray that had defined the townhouse Freddy had once shared with Abe Murphy. It was transient, yes, a borrowed room, but perhaps this combination of states of being was more true to how Freddy would navigate a space that was truly and permanently his.
“When is your mother’s wedding?” Joe asked him, leaning against the window and picking up one of the funny little shells sitting there, atop a Byron tome. “Soon?”
“Not too soon,” Freddy said absently, digging around in his things. “Summer at the soonest. Months away.”
Joe nodded, his mind tucking away the information for examination later. “Where did these shells come from? Have you been leaving the house?”
“What? Oh, those,” said Freddy, emerging from his wardrobe with his hair askew. “Yes, I walk down every afternoon. I like the sounds, but those aren’t from the coast here.”
“No?” Joe lifted his hand, examining the little stony cone in his palm. “What are they?”
“Devil’s toenails,” Freddy answered as though that were a normal answer and not an alarming clash of words. “Oysters. Very old oysters. They’re from home, in the Cotswolds. Just paperweights, Joe, nothing important.”
“Oysters,” Joe repeated, squinting at the fossil skeptically. “Not like any oyster I’ve ever seen.”
“Spend a lot of time with oysters, do you?” Freddy replied with a grin, returning to his task. “There aren’t good shells on the Cornish coast, anyhow. Lots of little things broken into shards or still alive, but nothing you’d want to collect.”
“Is that so?” Joe replied, looking back up with surprise. “I don’t collect things, I guess.”
“Just books?” Freddy mumbled, finally finding his empty knapsack and hauling it free with a victorious grunt. “You have a lot of books.”
“I have more than I did when I went to Portugal, in fact,” Joe replied with a little chuckle, pushing himself up and crossing the room to assist. “You bought a fair few, I think.”
“Yes, well,” said Freddy, tossing the sack to Joe and turning with his hands on his hips. “You needed variety.”
“I did,” Joe agreed. “And now I have it.”
CHAPTER 26
Ember wore the gown she’d packed specifically with Beck’s downfall in mind.
It was a dull, crushed silver, like worn steel, the bodice structured with lines of cobalt thread. It made her feel like a warrior. She often saved it for those days where she needed to feel strong and stronger still.
Oddly, when she finished dressing, gathered her folio, and looked in the mirror, it didn’t look like platemail anymore. It just looked pretty, like delicate filigree, like the hoarfrost on the windows. Even the blue bits looked softer, daintier, somehow.
Wasn’t that just perfect?
She supposed pretty was just as powerful as armed, in any event, and sighed, letting Merryn catch her hair up in a spill of curls over her shoulder, clipped into loose array with a lapis-studded clip as a finishing touch.
“Is that all, ma’am?” the girl asked, looking anxious enough that Ember wondered if she hadn’t read the letters when Ember’s back was turned.
“For the moment,” Ember replied with a sigh. “But, Merryn, I will be leaving very soon. If you decide not to join me, my invitation will remain open. You need only to write me in London to have a place there.”
“I …” Merryn looked a little frozen with it, her brown eyes wide and blinking. “I understand, ma’am.”
“Merryn,” she said, placing her hands over her ribs, bracing for exiting the room. “Please call me Ember.”
