Page 33 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
“I sincerely doubt it. Most peers and their spouses think me dangerous and unstable. Not to mention, they care not at all for the lower classes.”
“I could have told you that.”
“I suppose so.” He chuckled a bit, and the conversation trailed into a stale point of silence.
“So, you are going to London tomorrow?” Leah broke the silence finally after glancing out the window at the slowly-descending sun.
“I am, yes, to attend to some business.”
“When will you return?”
“I cannot say for certain, but surely after only a day or two. I do prefer the climate of the country to that of the city.”
“I've never known the country.” Leah looked again through the window, glancing wistfully at the tree branches dancing in the breeze. “Not until now at least.”
“Well you must come to learn more of it.” he said, standing up to leave.
“I would like that, I think.” Leah said gently, slipping for a moment out from her chitinous exterior.
“Very well, after I return, we shall assess your condition. If it is much improved, we may begin exploration, eh?”
“Very well, doctor.” Leah jested. “Have a good trip then. Don't get knocked off!”
“I shall endeavor not to.” Kenneth smiled, and left the room.
* * *
Kenneth was incredibly flustered. She had seen right through him, unearthed his own emotional deception, and he was in shock because of it.
He greatly enjoyed her candor and found great value in the honest conversation that she offered, as opposed to the majority of his interactions with those inside his social bracket.
Yet, in her absolute honesty she had cut to his core, routed out the adventurous, selfish spirit that he guarded so well. He was exposed, and he was caught in the moment of it.
One part of him felt tremendous relief that he could feel so at ease when speaking with her; this was a new kind of honest relationship in which he could afford to be straightforward. There were no consequences he could think of that could come of honest conversation with a commoner. Especially a commoner in the safety of his own home, far from the babbling balls of London.
Another, equally large piece of him was utterly distraught. Hiding his true, aloof nature, was something that he took very seriously. He had built up as best he could the image of an upstanding veteran of the Napoleonic wars. Perhaps he behaved foolishly at times, but nobody in society knew him for what he truly was: an adrenaline-chasing, slightly-depressed, deeply-lonely duke with no clear vision of how his life should proceed.
“She's bloody got you.” Kenneth muttered to himself, and retired to his chambers. He did not want to leave Leah here; he did not want to leave her at all. Yet, he wanted to be rid of her entirely, and he let that feeling overwhelm the prior while he imagined the adventures he would have in London the coming days.Just what sort of trouble could I get myself into?
Chapter 10
Nash warmed his bony knuckles over a twinkling fire. The smoke drifted up and bounced off the rounded ceilings of the old Roman cistern, slithering up the dome to its release, up into London's night air.
Over the fire, Nash roasted a small hen. It was the last of many that he had cooked that day; one of his lads had come across a poultry cart, unattended, and so the whole pack of them feasted on roast hen from the early afternoon until late in the night.
If one suffers extreme hunger on a daily basis, or even on a single occasion, they are more susceptible to a food's subtle flavors, and essences when finally exposed.
Now, the dripping, sizzling fat that oozed from the hens, brought the orphans and crooks into a state of euphoria. The salty twinge to the meat sent shivers through their spines as their bodies struggled to cope with the delicacy before them.
Each bite was better than the last, filling up their souls to the very brim with joyful satiation. Nash smiled to see his gang so happy; it had been a long time since any of them had eaten poultry of any kind.
“Boss,” Digby called from the cistern's tunnel. “got a runner for you.”
“Send him over,” Nash replied, giving his knuckles one more glance over the fire. Then he brushed his hands together, passed roasting duty onto another, and went to receive his runner.
“Whatchu got for me then?” Nash looked down at the child.
“From the fountain, boss.” the child held out a crinkled piece of paper.
