Page 14 of A Duke in Disguise
That got her a wry smile. “I can bring you hot water, Plum.”
He was right, though. She did feel better after she washed, using the kettle of hot water he left outside her door. A quarter of an hour later she was sitting in bed, wrapped in a warm dressing gown, when Ash knocked at the door of her room carrying meat pie and a cup of tea.
Ash, she realized, was the sort of man who could procure pork pie at a moment’s notice. A man who would make one a cup of tea without being asked, and do it without acting like it was a grand favor. He placed both cup and plate on the table beside her bed, and was half out the door before she had even managed to thank him.
“No, wait,” she said. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Plum.”
“Stay? If you don’t have anywhere else you need to be?” She hated asking. Asking for help was one step removed from requiring it, and in Verity’s experience a woman who couldn’t take care of herself was a sitting duck. Far better to practice self-sufficiency at every step.
A look passed over Ash’s face, something she couldn’t quite define. A sort of gentle, fond frustration. “There’s nowhere I need to be,” he said, making for the chair in the corner of the room. But the chair was covered with a stack of books, a cloak, and a few shifts that needed mending. He turned towards the bed and made a gesture for Verity to move over. She slid to the side, tucking her legs under the quilt and holding the plate of pork pie in her lap. The mattress dipped as Ash sat beside her, on top of the covers. She could feel the heat coming from his body, could smell the rosin and asphaltum that got under his nails while he worked and never quite came clean. When she swallowed the next mouthful of pie, she let herself sink against his side.
He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as if it were the simplest thing, as if this closeness were not unprecedented throughout the entirety of their long friendship. But her body fit against his with a familiarity that could have deceived her into believing that she could have Ash like this, that their friendship could exist between their bodies as it always had between their minds.
“When you want to talk about Nate, I’m here.” His voice was low, and she felt the rumble of it against her cheek.
She burrowed into his side, hiding her face in his shirt. “I don’t want to. I don’t know what else there is to say.”
“He’s like a brother to me, and I don’t want him to be hurt.” He stroked her hair and she leaned into the touch. “But he isn’t my brother. He’s yours. While I think something has to be done to keep him safe until this blows over, it’s not my place to act, at least not without your say-so.”
He was doing her a favor by broaching the topic first, by acknowledging that there were things Verity could do to keep Nate out of prison. Unpleasant things, things she didn’t want to think about. But nestled in the crook of Ash’s arm, she thought she could almost face this problem. With his heart beating under her cheek, she felt less alone, almost like she had a partner, an ally. “He has to leave the country,” she whispered. The thought had been creeping in at the edges of her consciousness for days, weeks, but saying it aloud felt like a betrayal. “But he would never agree to it.”
“He might when he learns you had redcoats threatening you.”
“They weren’t threatening me.”
“What they did to the shop was a threat. They’re showing you how easily they can do harm and how unafraid they are of any consequences.” His voice was strained, his arm stiff around her. “He also might if he has enough money to set up as a printer in Boston or New York.”
This was too much for Verity’s nerves. She let out a high-pitched laugh. “I can hardly pay Charlie’s wages, let alone such a great sum of money as it would take to set up a new establishment.”
“I can help with that. I do have money saved.”
“No,” she said automatically. “I manage on my own.”
“I know you do. But it would be my pleasure to help keep Nate safe.”
She was wondering how long she had to wait before repeating her rejection of his aid, when he spoke again. “If Roger had been unable to pay for his trip to Italy, I would have helped. And you would have too, I think.”
“True,” she said tentatively. “But Roger was your dearest friend.”
With a single finger, he tilted her chin up so she faced him. She held her breath. “Do you really need me to explain this?” He let out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Of course you do. You’re important to me. You and Nate both.” His words were straightforward and innocuous, but his voice was soft, his gaze intent on her. “You’re dear to me, Plum.”
Verity never knew what to say to expressions of fondness, beyond the absurd urge to protest. But hearing those words from Ash made her realize how much they were true for her as well. She mumbled something that she hoped he’d interpret as a return of the sentiment and then tucked her head under his chin to avoid looking him in the eye.
“Even with the money, I don’t think he’d agree to go,” she said. “He believes he’s fighting for a worthy cause. Hell, heisfighting for a worthy cause.”
“You could go with him. He might agree in that case.”
The words hung there in the silent room. “I couldn’t,” she said. “And—no, Ash, I won’t. My life is here.”You are here,she wanted to say. She knew, as she formulated the thought, that Ash being in a place was reason enough for her to want to be there too. But that was terrifying, too much like letting another person dictate the terms of her life, so she pulled hard on the reins of her mind and thought about another reason she could not leave: if Verity and Nate both left, Ash would be alone. She knew him well enough to understand that his early life had been marked by a series of losses. And even if she could have asked Ash to go with them, which she would never do, because all his clients and connections were in London, he couldn’t undertake an ocean voyage of three months. She shuddered at the memory of how laid up he had been after crossing the channel with Roger some years ago. Ash had suffered a seizure on board, recovered somewhat in Calais, and then suffered another seizure on the way home. “A ship is not a convenient place to have an episode, Plum,” he had said with his characteristic dryness, but the haunted look in his mentor’s eyes had told her of the true danger.
But it wasn’t only concern for Ash that made her resist leaving. She didn’t want to be parted from him. Those months he had spent in Bath had been hard enough, even though she had tried not to admit it to herself. She had missed seeing him, missed their easy conversations, but it had been more than that: when she was with him she felt warm and whole in a way she didn’t otherwise. She didn’t want to give that up.
She would, though. She would leave Ash, she would do whatever it took to keep Nate safe and sane, and she’d do it with the full knowledge that she was giving away even more of herself, that she was complicit in her own self-effacement.
Chapter Five
This was the third time Ash had visited the house on Cavendish Square, andwhile his sense of creeping familiarity in the foyer had not diminished, he had grown accustomed to it. What he found more disturbing was the hush that seemed to blanket the house in a fog of nervous silence. The servants moved on cats’ feet, quick and silent. Each of his prior visits had concluded with Lady Caroline hustling him out the garden door when a man arrived home, and each time he had been relieved to be out of that house, almost gasping for air once he stepped outside.
