Page 15 of Salt Magic, Skin Magic
“That peculiar fellow? No, I haven’t.”
“Are you sure? You don’t think he might be in this room?”
Lady Amelia glanced around the room, her gaze going straight through John. “Of course not. Why? Do you think he’s one of your father’s spies?”
Thornby stared at John open-mouthed, then glanced back at his aunt and back to John. John frowned and nodded his head meaningfully at Lady Amelia. Thornby blinked at him, shaking his head in wonder, then realised he must keep up his end of the conversation.
“Uh, no,” Thornby said. “He seemed all right.”
“I think he’s peculiar,” Lady Amelia said firmly.
“You think everyone’s peculiar.” Thornby grinned at her, then gave John a delighted sideways smile.
Lady Amelia gave an unladylike snort. “Of course you’re all peculiar. Anyone who chooses to live on Porridge Island must be mad. Tcha! England! Suet puddings and rain.”
Thornby and his aunt smirked at each other. This was clearly an on-going conversation between them. For the first time, John could see a family resemblance. Thornby looked nothing like his father, but he and his aunt had the same willowy build, and her hair sprang from her brow in a similar manner.
“Now, Soren—” she began.
“A moment, Aunt Amelia, I want to stand over here.”
To John’s alarm, Thornby walked over to him, turned, and got inside the spancel with him. John had to step hastily backwards to make room, trying desperately to keep heels and elbows inside the spancel and off the sand.
“What the devil are you doing?” he hissed in Thornby’s ear. Thornby’s silk-clad buttocks were pushing lightly against his groin in a way that was very distracting.
Lady Amelia advanced. “Why do you want to stand there? Are you quite all right, Soren?”
“Yes, I’m all right, Aunt. I just wanted to apologise. For making a scene.”
“Oh, there’s no need to apologise, boy. We both know what he is; he deserves all he gets. I—I’m glad you remember your mother. I wish I’d met her. She was the most beautiful woman alive, you know, when you were a child. Everyone said so. Not thatheever wrote, but I had contacts in Cairo at the time and they told me. And I saw the society pages inThe Times.”
“Yes, I know. But I must stop rising to the bait at the dinner table, mustn’t I? Or we shall all be thin as rakes by Christmas.”
She laughed. “Come, walk me to my room. I’ve sent that silly girl to bed, so we can sit and have a nightcap.”
“All right, if you think you’re up to it.” Thornby took her arm, then half-turned, looking John in the eye. “A quick one. I’ll look for Mr Blake in his room afterwards.”
John nodded.
“If you like, dear,” Aunt Amelia said. “But what you want with such a dull fellow I don’t know. At luncheon he went on and on about foundries and glazing. I can’t thinkwhyhe thought we’d be interested. These modern types—all they care about is making money. Not that I wouldn’t like a little myself, but it’s so tedious to talk about, isn’t it?”
Thornby shot John one last look over his shoulder as they left the room. “Very dull,” he agreed, with a glint in his eye.
