Page 18 of West End Earl
“Just a cudgel. Knees to take me down. The head is the real problem. Falling off my shoulders might be a mercy. Move the light, will you?”
“For an injured man, you’re awfully opinionated,” Cal said.
“Calvin, move that bloody light out of my face. I’m alive. Now leave me alone and let me sleep.”
“You can’t mean to stay here?” His incredulous tone held so much horror, she almost laughed.
“Stay here. You mean, in my home?”
“This isn’t a home, Puppy—it’s a hovel. A single room where before now, you slept in relative safety.”
“I am not going to argue our socioeconomic differences when it’s the middle of the night and I feel like shit. Either go away or make yourself useful and stoke the fire.”
A few moments later a flare of heat testified to Cal building the fire, but his silence told her he was pouting about it.
“What am I going to do with you, Puppy?” Cal thumped the chair down next to her bed, which made Phee close her eyes for a second as the noise reverberated through her skull.
“Judging by your tone, I’m guessing that leaving me to sleep is out of the question.” The firelight made Cal’s hair glow. Lady Amesbury’s tipsy confession earlier had been an understatement. He wasn’t pretty. He was beautiful. The halo effect was rather angelic, although his dark eyes under the heavy brows made her question if Cal’s angel status was of the fallen variety.
With a sigh, Cal rested his face in his hands. “Fine. Sleep. I’m staying to make sure you wake tomorrow.” Settling into the chair, Cal loosened his cravat and crossed his arms over his chest. Phee rolled her eyes, then winced. Damn, her head hurt.
Phee turned her head toward the wall, away from the light of the fire. Within moments, sleep claimed her, providing an escape from that dark gaze.
***
Cal kept his head cradled in his hands and stared at the shiny black toes of his boots until Adam’s breath settled into the easy, heavy cadence of sleep. That he’d woken grumpy and mouthy was a relief. The thieves had beaten him but not broken that scrappy spirit.
Adam’s pale complexion matched the linen covering his pillow, gone gray from too many washings. Even his freckles seemed pasty. The shock of red hair was the only color left to him except for the flickers of gold where firelight caught the tips of his eyelashes.
The wooden chair Cal sat in was unforgivingly uncomfortable. Numbness set in almost immediately. Shifting his weight helped, so he stretched his legs to prop his feet on the bed frame. Crossing his arms, Cal prepared for a long night, because no way in hell would he leave his friend alone in this room.
The intention to sleep didn’t last. He kept replaying that moment when the scruffy boy had arrived. Higgins had answered the door as usual, but the lad’s frantic message had echoed from the hall to where Cal had been relaxing after the night out.Mr. Hardwick is hurt. Come quick!His heart had stopped. He’d swear it.
All those missions and errands where he’d sent Puppy into dangerous areas of London tallied in his mind like a stack of tarot cards depicting a series of awful outcomes. This could have happened so much sooner. For all he knew, tonight’s attack was the result of one of tonight’s fact-gathering missions for theWilhelmina.
His tailbone fell asleep, which was a new sensation. Who knew a tailbone could tingle like that? This chair was an atrocity. Shifting again, Cal hoped to find a miraculously comfortable position.
If Puppy had known Cal sat here worrying over him, he’d have had strong words to share. God knew he was chock-full of opinions. But if Ethan had lain in this bed, Cal would have worried too. Maybe not as much, because Ethan was built like a brick wall. Adam was finely built. Nearly delicate, really. In the flickering light, Cal stared at the bruises blooming over Adam’s slim shoulders and angled brow.Delicatewas the right word, and he felt protective, like he should be fighting off someone, but the attackers had already done their damage and scurried back to their hidey-holes.
Which left him with restless energy that wouldn’t let him settle in for the night. Glancing around, Cal searched for something to do.
Like most tiny spaces, if one thing was out of place, the room looked ransacked. Trousers and hose lay in a crumpled heap before the hearth. One dirty glove rested on top, what remained of the pair he’d purchased earlier on Bond Street.
Cal lumbered out of the chair and gathered the discarded clothing. The hose were filthy but not torn. With a thorough laundering, they might be salvageable. He folded them neatly, then placed them on the footstool. The shirt could be mended but might still be destined for the scrap pile. The trousers were probably a loss. A seam on the side had given way, and he wrinkled his nose at the unidentifiable filth covering them. God only knew what he’d just gotten on his hands.
If these were his clothes, he’d burn them without thinking twice. But that wasn’t his decision. Giving them a shake, he tried to dislodge the top layer of grime. A shower of dirt sprinkled onto his shoe. As he gingerly folded the trousers, a lump in the fabric shifted, then hit the floor, rolling to a stop next to his boot.
Plucking it from where it landed, he went to place the piece of scrap wood on top of the clothes but paused. Approximately four inches long and sanded smooth, the wood had been hollowed all the way through, with a wider fluted opening on one end. He cocked his head, turning it over in his hands, then checked where the object had fallen from.
The trousers revealed a pocket sewn inside the placket, with seams aligning perfectly to disguise the addition. He’d recognize Adam’s tailoring anywhere. Cal slipped it in the pocket, then slid it out again. Sure enough, the wooden…whatever it was…fit snugly into the space Adam had created for it.
It looked like a penis with a wide opening on one end. There wasn’t a better way to describe it. Despite their general filth, Cal held the trousers, slipping the carved wood into the pocket over and over, then held it up to the light from the lantern.
A choked noise from the bed made him glance over.
Adam was awake.
***
