Page 35 of House of Thorns
She was grateful for the wind, rattling the shutters and driving the rain against the slats. It was loud, sounding like the pattering of thousands of tiny feet. She waited for the rain to subside, and then composure regained, squeezed her father’s hand.
“Good night, Father.”
“Good night, my child.”
He was asleep before she left his room.
She paused to inspect the kitchen shutters. She’d have to replace them soon. The hinges had nearly rusted through.
Olivia expelled a long breath. The townhouse was falling down around her. She scowled. Why did everything require so much money to repair?
Shoving the worries of the day aside, she tiredly padded up the stairs to her tiny room and with a sigh, quickly undressed and slipped into bed.
Ten minutes passed before she finally noticed.
The rain still drummed against the windows, rattling the shutters and pinging on the cobblestones, but the pots in her room were oddly silent.
Curious, she rose from bed and held out her palms.
Nothing.
Her roof had been repaired.
* * *
“Paid,” the roofer, Mr. Tisdale, said.
“Paid?” Olivia asked for the third time, still unable to believe her ears.
“His lordship paid for the entire roof. Now, if you’ve opinions, you’ll have to speak with Lord Blair, Miss Mackenzie. I’ve got work to do.” The wizened man nodded firmly, his patience at an end. He always reminded Olivia of an elvish sprite, slight, spry and with twinkling blue eyes, yet the fingers he lifted to the corners of his mouth were calloused from years of hard work. He let out a shrill whistle.
Three heads poked over the rim of the roof above.
“Aye?” three voices chorused.
“Step down, lads. The tiles have arrived.” Mr. Tisdale nodded his pointed chin toward the front of the townhouse before turning back to Olivia. “Now, if you’ll kindly stay out of the way, lass? I’m not one to have womenfolk underfoot. These stone tiles can be dangerous. Wouldn’t do to have you hurt, now.”
Olivia suppressed a snort from her perch on the back stoop. She could hardly harass the man simply because Nicholas had decided to barge into her affairs.
“Very well, then,” she muttered as she retreated, closing the door behind her with a bang.
“What a surprise, aye?” Mrs. Lambert looked up from the kitchen stove. “And a nice one, after…”
Olivia scowled, hardly needing a reminder of the theft. Would the problems never end? Nicholas had no business paying for her roof—especially an entirely new one. Of course, a man of his wealth wouldn’t understand the hardship she’d incur in repaying him. Lord knew, she couldn’t afford even a handful of tiles, after losing the contents of her box.
“Are you sucking on a lemon, lass?” Mrs. Lambert chuckled.
Olivia shot her a sour look and reached for her gloves draped on the back of a kitchen chair. “I can’t accept such charity, but I’ve Lady Winthrop’s event to attend. Perhaps, Lord Blair will be there.”
“Best of luck to you then, lass. I’ll mind the shop while you’re gone.”
Olivia smiled her thanks and swept down the narrow hall.
She could only spare Nicholas so much thought. If hewasat Lady Winthrop’s, she’d take up the roof matter, at once. If he wasn’t…well…even though she hadn’t a clue where he was staying, no doubt, he’d show up soon enough as Deborah’s plight was, as yet, still unresolved.
Right now, she had far more pressing matters. She had to find Louisa. Desperately. The aspiring young soprano, Elena Goodman, had contracted to singSoftly, My Heartat Lady Winthrop’s charity event. Perhaps she knew of Louisa’s whereabouts. They were, after all, the closest of friends.
After collecting her hat from the shop counter, Olivia quickly left the shop.
