Page 59 of The Truth Serum
“Sorry, sir. Er, My Lord.” Nate closed his eyes and forcibly brought his attention to the present. “I was merely thinking.”
“And stomping down the pavement like an angry bull.”
Was he? “I’m not used to being up this early.” Then he frowned. “What are you doing here? And at this hour?” Benedict was usually up late with various diplomats discussing whatever those drunken diplomats had let slip.
“Haven’t been to bed yet. Went for a walk to wake up and saw you stomping down the street.”
Nate nodded, delicately trying to find a way to escape his superior. It didn’t work. The man was too perceptive.
“My carriage is just ahead. Shall we alight? I’ll give you a ride back to your bed. You can tell me all the latest gossip.”
“Gossip?” Nate frowned. “I—”
“I hear you gave a hand to poor Baron Courbis. How is the man?”
Oh. That. Was that just last night? The baron would be the center of gossip now for several days, which made Nate acause célèbrebecause he’d escorted the idiot home. That was usually a favorite situation, as Nate would ride the wave of interest to gain entry to all sorts of gatherings. It was how he stayed ontop of society and managed to be friendly with as many souls as possible. One never knew what sort of tidbits were discussed in the darkened corners of ballrooms or in the attached cardrooms.
But at the moment, that seemed like an awful amount of work. He hadn’t the heart to for it, and Lord Benedict was too perceptive to miss it.
“Come along, Nate,” he said quietly. “Let’s have a pint.”
“A bit early, isn’t it?”
“Not if you’ve been up all night.” Then he shrugged. “Have something else if you want.”
He couldn’t refuse. And honestly, he didn’t want to. He was by nature a social creature and he wanted to talk to someone who knew everything about him. Or cry into his pint with him. Either way, he nodded.
Soon they were in the back corner of a quiet tavern, one favored by Lord Benedict for good food and a discreet owner. Instead of the promised pint, Benedict ordered stew and water, claiming he needed to keep his head clear for the day’s work.
Nate felt no such restraint. He also didn’t start speaking until Benedict prompted him.
“How are the ribs?”
“Horrid. But healing.”
“Hmmm. And I assume you just had a meeting with your publisher?”
Nate’s head jerked up. “You know about that?”
“I prefer the flying machine stories to the pirate ones, but I’ve enjoyed them both.”
Oh! He flushed at the compliment. “I had no idea you enjoyed frivolous pastimes.”
His superior leaned forward. “I have a confession to make. I began reading your journals in Spain. While you slept.”
Nate jolted. “What?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I reasoned it was your duty to entertain me. And you did.” He took a bite of his stew. “Is Mr. Newman pressuring you for the next installment?”
“No. Well, yes, but I can manage that.”
“So what has you so foul a mood?”
“I think it’s time for me to travel again.” The words surprised him. He hadn’t been thinking that at all, but once voiced, he considered it seriously. He had singular focus when he was away from London. Deliver this message, bring back that information. Clearly defined goals with obvious success or failure. And no heartbreak involved.
Better yet, the long nights of travel gave him time to write his stories.
“Have your feet healed?” Benedict asked.
