Page 11 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the bright green hair ribbon. His lips twitched in a near smile at the memory of his little painter standing on that ladder, painting forest imagery. He’d had the urge to climb up behind her on the ladder and cage her in from behind as he watched her paint. He wanted... He wanted to feel close to her, to get lost in her and her talent.
“So that’s where you went. To see a woman...” Darius plucked the ribbon from Kit’s hand and studied it in the sunlight that streamed in from the bay windows. “Who is she?”
“No one.” In truth, he really didn’t know who she was. He didn’t even know her name.
“I saw you leave your house last night,” Darius said. “I was afraid you might not return, so I waited up to make sure you came back.”
“I considered it... not coming back,” Kit admitted quietly. “Then I went to the theater, to see Townsend’s daughter, but was distracted when I rescued a young woman from some drunken fools who intended her harm.” He wasn’t sure why he told Darius any of this. He wasn’t used to talking this much.
Darius handed him back the ribbon and clasped a hand on Kit’s shoulder.
“There’s nothing wrong with taking a fancy to a woman. It’s a good sign that you may wish to stay in London.”
“I haven’t taken a fancy to her.”
His friend smirked. “Your ribbon collecting says otherwise, old boy. Make yourself presentable and meet me downstairs for a quick lunch. Then we’ll be off.”
Darius left him alone in his bedchamber, and Kit tidied up his appearance as best he could. The tailors on Lark Street would be thoroughly scandalized by his shabby clothing, but Kit didn’t care. His money was as good as anyone else’s.
When he entered the dining room a quarter of an hour later, Darius was eating kippers and toast with poached eggs. His eyes widened as if he’d expected Kit to be wearing something more befitting an earl than what he currently wore.
“I see we have a lot of work to do. Well, we shall make some chins wag today, won’t we?” Darius recovered with a chuckle.
“This is all I have,” Kit said.
He faced the sideboard full of warm chafing dishes. The smells coming from the covered dishes were divine. The footman in the corner of the drawing room watched Kit with wide eyes as he loaded up a plate with enough food for three men.
“You, lad, what’s your name?” Kit asked the young footman.
“Er—Nolan, sir. Timothy Nolan.”
“You are hereby assigned as my valet. Inform Mr. Palmer of your new duties, and he will see to a raise. You’ll have to dress in something more befitting a valet than your livery, just as I shall have to dress in something more befitting a lord.”
The young man smiled hesitantly. “You mean it, my lord?” His face reddened as he seemed to realize he had just questioned Kit.
“Yes, lad. Now, off you go. Tell Palmer and send my compliments to Mrs. Swanson on the breakfast.”
“Yes, your lordship.” The footman bolted from the room.
“Well, I guess that solves our valet problem,” Darius chuckled. “Though now you’ll need a new footman to replace him.”
Kit merely grunted and sat down. His stomach felt hollow from nearly a full day and a half of being without food. He reached for his meal with one hand and halted, reminding himself to pick up his silverware first. He retrieved a spoon and broke the shell of a poached egg.
“Tell me one thing, Kit,” Darius said while Kit quickly ate his food. He was not used to having any time to enjoy meals. “Just one thing,”
“What do you wish to know?” Kit asked warily.
“Anything about your life from the last seven years. Just one thing.Please.” Darius leaned against the table, resting his elbows on the spotless white cloth, pinning Kit to his chair with his bright blue eyes. “I know you don’t wish to discuss it, but please, for the sake of the boys we used to be, tell meonething.”
Kit ate more slowly and considered all the things that he had endured, all the hardships and all the endless drudgery of his life as a convict. Mrs. Swanson’s food turned to ash upon his tongue at the memories.
“I was an animal,” he finally said. “A beast to be burdened, to be worked, to be silent, to be beaten, to be misused in every way possible. It was a life that turns a man wild.”
Darius didn’t look away, not the way men and women would when faced with uncomfortable truths about the poor treatment of their fellow humans.
“We’ll make them pay for this, Kit.”
“And what of you? Tell me one thing aboutyourlife since I’ve been gone,” Kit found himself asking as he finished his plate of kippers and eggs.
