Page 55 of The Storybook Hero
“Alex?” A small voice cut through the darkness.
He forced his lids open. Emma had turned to regard him, her eyes wide in awestruck admiration. “That was the bravest thingI have ever seen, the way you knocked that horrible man down before he could hurt Miss Hadley.”
His jaw dropped slightly.
“And then, how you laid him out without so much as batting your eye,“ she went on, in a reverent tone. “So you could blast that other villain to the devil. Why, you are quite the best hero in the whole world.”
Octavia had reined in her horse at the crest of a small ridge so that the last of Emma’s words drifted up to her and Nicholas. The boy was quick to add his own effusive praise.
Alex found his throat was so tight he could barely draw a breath.
“Hmm, “she murmured , her voice rich with a sly humor. “Yes, I suppose we must give him the edge over Valancourt.”
A rumble of a chuckle started in his throat as he found he could suddenly breathe again.
“You were, you know,” she added softly, her voice no longer teasing.
When his brow rose in question, she went on. “Wonderful, that is. Quite wonderful.”
He swallowed hard as one bedraggled governess and two dirt streaked twelve-year-olds, leaves and pine needles clinging to their garments, regarded him with glowing smiles. Here they were, as good as lost in a vast wilderness, stuck in a foreign country with a murderous uncle on their trail and the entire French army not far behind.
So why was he feeling like the luckiest man in the world?
“But Alex?—”
He looked up up.
Octavia did her best to imitate his growl. “Don’teverdo anything as damn foolish as that again.”
He had to choke down a burble of laughter as she gave him a wink and then set her mount into a brisk trot.
Thirteen
Squid stomped his boots, trying to regain some measure of feeling in his icy feet, then slowly unwound the muffler from around his neck.
“Well?” demanded William.
The valet chafed his hands together. “Colder ‘n a witch’s tit out—er, sorry m’lord.” He swallowed hard as the marquess stopped his pacing in mid-stride to stare at him. “I’m afraid I keep forgetting my place, and that it’s not Mister Alex I’m conversing with,” he continued, taking great care to place his vowels and consonants in the correct places. The result was a very credible-sounding King’s English.
From his seat near the fire, Thomas gave a chuckle. “Don’t bother altering your speech, Squid. I find your descriptions more entertaining and informative than most. Indeed, after your colorful way of putting things, my own valet’s words will pale in comparison.” He slanted a look at the marquess and was surprised to see that his brother’s lips were also twitching. “But do tell us if you have found out anything.”
Squid grinned. “Aye, I have, sirs. Finally sussed out where Mister Alex dossed?—”
“Discovered where Alex stayed,” translated Thomas in a low voice.
The marquess took on an injured expression. “I’m not quite so featherheaded as you imagine, Thomas.” He signaled for the valet to go on.
“Er, well, he was looking shabby and such, so he’s sticking to the plan of masquerading as a poor tutor, I reckon. Mister Alex made inquiries about coach travel to the south. Sent me haring off across the city, the clerk did, but I found the place.” He paused for dramatic effect. “One thing we can be sure of is he ain’t here in St. P. anymore. He left nigh on four weeks ago.”
There was a moment of silence as the two men digested the news. “Well done, Squid,” said Thomas.
William’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “Hell’s teeth, then he could be anywhere in this cursed land.”
Thomas nodded grimly.
“‘Corse I left instructions—along with a bit of incentive—to send word here if Mister Alex reappears.”
“Good Lord, I hope Alex has had the sense to keep his wits about him—this is not one of his reckless games, like venturing into the stews of London on a wager, where a mistake might only result in a blackened eye or a broken bone.”
