Page 32 of Indecently Employed
“So what was on, then, in the city?” the younger man asked, his forced nonchalance painfully obvious as he fiddled needlessly with the heavy tools.
Ajax sighed. “Devil if I know. I didn’t go to the theater once.”
“Not once?” Gideon didn’t look up as he took the spades from Ajax and loaded them as well. He walked around to the front of the cart and hauled himself up onto the bench with ease, not spilling even a drop of what Ajax assumed to be coffee.
Ajax smoothed out his tweed coat and followed him again.
“I saw an advertisement for the Kendals inThe Palace of Truth,” he offered, knowing full well it wasn’t what his companion was after.
Gideon scoffed good-naturedly. “That old thing.”
“Exactly.”
Gideon flicked the reins and the horse moved out, along the north road that stretched behind the castle. They rode for a few minutes, with only the sound of the cart rattling over the deep ruts in the packed dirt to fill the silence, until Ajax couldn’t bear the sorrow coming off the younger man any longer.
“He’s a bastard, Faine. They’d have to pay me to sit through any drivel with his name attached. Besides, there’s far more diverting drivel out there, you know as well as I.” He glanced to his side, where his estate manager sat with a loose hold on the reins.
Gideon sighed. “Yes. I suppose you’re right.”
They made it to the drainage ditch with no more words passing between them. The morning fog had not yet burnt off, and the air smelled of wet leaves and rain. They set to work, digging out the earth and assorted detritus that had filled the ditch after the storms of the previous weeks. Before long the overwhelming moisture all around would freeze, and the mud beneath their boots would harden as well. Despite the chill that lingered in the castle, winter was Ajax’s favorite season here. He loved the feeling of hibernating, of rest and languor. Conserving one’s energy and stores, doing little more than reading by the fire. Or remaining in bed, drinking tea and toddies.
The thought of his bed called to mind Miss Abbotts, and his hopeless fantasy of her warming it as snow fell silently outside. The vision was hauntingly beautiful.
After a spell of excavating in the heavy morning air, Ajax shucked off his coat, then removed his tie and rolled up his sleeves.
Gideon paused to do the same.
“So, Miss Toombs. What’s the next story, eh?”
“As if I bloody well know.”
“Truly?” Gideon squinted at him, hands on his hips.
“I haven’t the foggiest.”
“I thought you had an idea about a highwayman’s ghost or something?”
Ajax snorted, then went for the cart and the jug of water in it.
Gideon let out a low whistle. “Your publisher’s been writing up here, you know.”
“I saw. Neat stack of three letters.” Ajax frowned, scrubbing the back of his hand across his forehead, slick with sweat.
Gideon nodded. “One a day for the last few days.” He hopped back into the ditch and picked up his spade.
“I had always thought Rokeby a friend,” Ajax sighed.
“Well, you still have me, I suppose.” Gideon grinned and stabbed the rocky mud. They were nearly finished with the job. “And your daughter. How’s that been, anyhow? Hard to think of you as a father.” He grunted as he lifted the spadeful of soil and dumped it aside.
“You know, I wrote her uncle once more.” Ajax leaned back on the cart, smarting at the memory of Samuel Jutton’s curt reply.
“Did you now?” Gideon asked, one eyebrow raised even as he focused on his feet, steadily clearing out another bucket.
“Waste of ink, waste of paper, waste of time.” Ajax bluffed indifference even as the pang spread through his chest, tempered slightly by the recollection of watching the man’s return letter burn. He’d sooner cut off his arm than have Charlotte find something like that.
“Well,” Gideon said, his words interspersed with grunts as he worked, “I reckon they’re churchy types. His sister probably couldn’t get away fast enough.”
Ajax ran his thumb over his mustache, searching his scattered memories for any mention Nancy might have made of her family. But before he could recall any, Gideon spoke again.
