Page 23 of The Last Necromancer
I saw Seth punch Gus in the shoulder out of the corner of my eye. "You can't know what his family thought of her," I said.
Seth squared his shoulders. "I can and I do. My mother moves in the same circles as the Harcourts." He sighed. "Or used to."
Gus groaned. "Seth's been dying for you to ask about him. Likes to make sure even the prisoners know he's from toff stock."
"There have been other prisoners besides me?"
"Nah. Matter of speech. You're our first."
"That explains why you're not very good jailors," I muttered.
I expected a thump on my arm for my insolence, but Gus only snorted a laugh. Seth didn't seem to have heard me. Although I was curious about his background, and why his circumstances had become so reduced that he'd wound up working as a thug for Fitzroy, I decided not to ask. It was better not to get too friendly with my captors, since I might have to hurt them.
I entered the tower room with a loud sigh, although I was pleased to see A Study In Scarlet on the dressing table near the other books. It wouldn't hurt to while away the afternoon reading it. I couldn't use the pistol and attempt an escape with both Seth and Gus in the room. The barrel was single shot. I would have to wait until there was only one of them.
"Don't think about running off this time," Gus warned. "Death ain't going to be happy when he hears of it."
I shrugged. "I don't care."
"You should. He's dangerous when he's in a rage."
"I'm sure he is, but it's not me he'll be angry with. As a prisoner, my duty is to escape. As my jailors, it's your duty to keep me in here. Which one of us failed?"
Gus swallowed. "What d'you think he'll do to us?" he said to Seth.
Seth gave him a smug smile and patted his shoulder. "He won't do anything to me. I was holding the tray and didn't have my hands free. You were the one supposedly on guard."
"That ain't fair."
"Life isn't fair. If it were, I'd be spending my evenings deflowering virgins instead of cleaning up the sick of a gutter snipe."
"Ha! You couldn't deflower a flower."
"That doesn't make sense. And I'll have you know, the ladies fell over themselves to get to me when I used to attend balls."
"You had money and a good name, then," Gus said, striding for the door. "Course they're going to throw themselves at you. Weren't nothing to do with that ugly face of yours."
Seth looked offended, and I couldn't blame him. He wasn't ugly in the least. He trailed after Gus. "I'll have you know I had an indecent encounter with a lady three nights ago. And no, I didn't pay her a penny. She gave herself freely to me."
"Gave you the French disease for free, more like." Gus's chuckles faded as he closed the door.
Finally I was alone again. I settled on the bed with the book and removed the pistol from the waistband at my back. I checked the barrel to see if it was loaded—it was—then slid it beneath the pillow beside me. I tried not to think about it and concentrated on the book instead, but it wasn't easy. I'd never shot anyone before.
Despite the apprehension curdling in the pit of my stomach, the afternoon didn't drag. The book was riveting, and I found myself reading as quickly as possible.
The clicking of the key in the lock startled me. How much time had passed? I took note of my page then closed the book and slipped my hand beneath the pillow. The metal of the pistol felt cool in my fingers. My pulse quickened.
Death walked in. His assessing gaze took in the book and my relaxed repose. "You met Lady Harcourt." He did not mention my attempted escape.
"She's very nice."
Behind him, Seth and Gus crowded in the doorway.
"I'm hungry," I said.
"I'll fetch you something from the kitchen." Seth trotted off.
"My chamber pot needs emptying," I told Gus.
