sardonic
eyebrow. So he was attached to the big mongrel. Why Max should find
it so funny, Jace didn’t know. Probably because he didn’t seem
the kind of man who’d be devoted to his pet. “No. Too
conspicuous.”
Max burst out laughing.
“Can’t imagine why you’d think that!”
Jace grinned back. “But
I have to make sure he’s taken care of while I’m here. Also, I
want to bring something to eat and drink.”
“You think we’re
going to be here awhile?”
Jace continued walking
past Reed’s house, his hands in his pockets, looking like he was
merely out for a stroll. “We’ll give him a day or two, but if he
hasn’t delivered those documents by then, we have to find a way to
get into that house. We can’t just sit around waiting for the
Vanisher to find him first!”
* * *
Was he ever going to
wake up again? Standing in front of her easel in the studio, Tally
dipped her brush into the paint on her palette and placed a dot of
cerulean at the inner corner of the eye. What
if she had given him too much laudanum and killed him?
She hated to pester
Foster to verify that their uninvited guest was still breathing, but
it didn’t seem normal that he’d sleep so soundly all day long.
And she didn’t dare go see him again. She’d already been several
times and Foster was not pleased about it. He was certain the man had
been breaking in to kill her and didn’t want her giving him a
second chance!
Not content with
shooting the man, she might now have finished him off with the
laudanum!
On the other hand, if
he awoke and had his memory back, he should be thankful she hadn’t
let Foster throw him in the coal cellar or out in the street.
What was she going to
do if he never recovered his memory? She hadn’t a clue how to go
about finding out who he was. Surely, when he didn’t come home,
someone would be looking for him?
Hearing St.
Marylebone’s bells chiming for evensong, she put down her brush.
Her hands ached from holding her palette and brush for too long. Her
light was fading and she was having trouble concentrating on her
painting. She moved to her work table and spent some time cleaning
her brushes and then draped a cover over the canvas and made her way
downstairs.
Her stomach growled,
reminding her that she hadn’t eaten much since breakfast. Her
cramped hands were the price she was paying for spending the entire
day up in the studio. She knew it wasn’t smart, but once started,
she became so engrossed she couldn’t stop until she had more than
just an outline. And it had been the only way to distract herself
from fretting over their uninvited guest!
“It’s about time.
You’ve had nothing to eat all day.”
She gave a startled cry
and almost missed a stair. “Do you think frightening me to death is
going to resolve our problems?”
“Hmmm… never
thought of that,” Foster mused in his mordant fashion. “Mebbe
I’ll save that for another time.”
“Oh you…” She
rubbed her sore hands as they walked toward the kitchen. “Something
smells good.”
“Even a rotten turnip
would smell good when yer stomach is as empty as yours must be.”
She stuck her tongue
out at him, then went to see what was in the pot on the stove. “Ugh!”
She grimaced at him and he shrugged his shoulders. She was heartily
sick of broth. Bread, broth and cheese. These were their main staples
since arriving in London, a fortnight ago.
Nevertheless, she ate
them without dwelling too much on what she was eating. Her childhood
had prepared her for this. “Anything new?” she said.
“If you’re asking
if our captive has awakened again, the answer is no.”
“I think we should
try to wake him.” She finished her bread. “Surely he has slept
long enough?” She swallowed. “What if…?”
“Ye didn’t give him
too much. He’s just sleeping to fix his brain, like the doctor
said.”
Foster always seemed to
know what was worrying her.
“That was one hell of
a knock he got on his head,”
eyebrow. So he was attached to the big mongrel. Why Max should find
it so funny, Jace didn’t know. Probably because he didn’t seem
the kind of man who’d be devoted to his pet. “No. Too
conspicuous.”
Max burst out laughing.
“Can’t imagine why you’d think that!”
Jace grinned back. “But
I have to make sure he’s taken care of while I’m here. Also, I
want to bring something to eat and drink.”
“You think we’re
going to be here awhile?”
Jace continued walking
past Reed’s house, his hands in his pockets, looking like he was
merely out for a stroll. “We’ll give him a day or two, but if he
hasn’t delivered those documents by then, we have to find a way to
get into that house. We can’t just sit around waiting for the
Vanisher to find him first!”
* * *
Was he ever going to
wake up again? Standing in front of her easel in the studio, Tally
dipped her brush into the paint on her palette and placed a dot of
cerulean at the inner corner of the eye. What
if she had given him too much laudanum and killed him?
She hated to pester
Foster to verify that their uninvited guest was still breathing, but
it didn’t seem normal that he’d sleep so soundly all day long.
And she didn’t dare go see him again. She’d already been several
times and Foster was not pleased about it. He was certain the man had
been breaking in to kill her and didn’t want her giving him a
second chance!
Not content with
shooting the man, she might now have finished him off with the
laudanum!
On the other hand, if
he awoke and had his memory back, he should be thankful she hadn’t
let Foster throw him in the coal cellar or out in the street.
What was she going to
do if he never recovered his memory? She hadn’t a clue how to go
about finding out who he was. Surely, when he didn’t come home,
someone would be looking for him?
Hearing St.
Marylebone’s bells chiming for evensong, she put down her brush.
Her hands ached from holding her palette and brush for too long. Her
light was fading and she was having trouble concentrating on her
painting. She moved to her work table and spent some time cleaning
her brushes and then draped a cover over the canvas and made her way
downstairs.
Her stomach growled,
reminding her that she hadn’t eaten much since breakfast. Her
cramped hands were the price she was paying for spending the entire
day up in the studio. She knew it wasn’t smart, but once started,
she became so engrossed she couldn’t stop until she had more than
just an outline. And it had been the only way to distract herself
from fretting over their uninvited guest!
“It’s about time.
You’ve had nothing to eat all day.”
She gave a startled cry
and almost missed a stair. “Do you think frightening me to death is
going to resolve our problems?”
“Hmmm… never
thought of that,” Foster mused in his mordant fashion. “Mebbe
I’ll save that for another time.”
“Oh you…” She
rubbed her sore hands as they walked toward the kitchen. “Something
smells good.”
“Even a rotten turnip
would smell good when yer stomach is as empty as yours must be.”
She stuck her tongue
out at him, then went to see what was in the pot on the stove. “Ugh!”
She grimaced at him and he shrugged his shoulders. She was heartily
sick of broth. Bread, broth and cheese. These were their main staples
since arriving in London, a fortnight ago.
Nevertheless, she ate
them without dwelling too much on what she was eating. Her childhood
had prepared her for this. “Anything new?” she said.
“If you’re asking
if our captive has awakened again, the answer is no.”
“I think we should
try to wake him.” She finished her bread. “Surely he has slept
long enough?” She swallowed. “What if…?”
“Ye didn’t give him
too much. He’s just sleeping to fix his brain, like the doctor
said.”
Foster always seemed to
know what was worrying her.
“That was one hell of
a knock he got on his head,”
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