Page 61 of The Storybook Hero
“It has been a long and difficult journey,” she answered after some consideration. “And one that is still far from over. What you see in him is not anger, but worry. No doubt his nerves are much frayed from the constant concern for your safety. H-He cares very much for both of you.” A slight tremor had crept into her voice. ”Does that answer your question?”
They nodded, but a certain doubt remained etched on their faces.
“Come, let us start the stove and put on a kettle for hot water. I am sure Alex will be ready for a hot cup of tea when he returns.”
But when the door flung open sometime later, it appeared that tea was not what Alex had in mind to chase the chill from his bones. As he stomped the snow from his boots and headed for the small table, his unsteady steps revealed that he had already had more than a glass of spirits. Quite a few more. And to Octavia’s dismay, she spotted a bottle sticking out from his coat pocket.
“Alex! I’ve kept the water hot for you.” Emma was out of her chair and half way to the stove. “Shall I fix you some tea?”
He let the packages in his arms fall to the table in a heap. “Don’t want any tea,” he growled. “Just want to be left alone for a bit, without a pack of plaguey women and children pulling at my coattails.”
It was the first time he had ever spoken harshly to the children. Emma recoiled as if struck and her lower lip began to quiver.
Oblivious to her wounded feelings, Alex took up one of the blankets from the neatly folded pile on the floor and stalked toward the near bedchamber. “I’m devilishly tired. Perhaps I shall be allowed some peace and quiet.” With that, the door was kicked closed.
Octavia was too shocked to do anything but stare, mouth agape, at the roughhewn pine boards.
It was Nicholas who slid down from his seat and went to put an arm around Emma’s quaking shoulders. “Don’t be upset. Sometimes men act very badly,” he counseled, his adolescent voice so grave that Octavia nearly smiled in spite of her . “Alex isn’t … quite himself at the moment. In the morning, I am sure everything will be fine and he will make a very handsome apology to you.”
A watery sniff was the only response.
“Come on, let’s finish the end of the chapter. We can’t leave off with Emily in such a perilous position.”
Emma allowed him to guide her back to the table, where he took the book onto his lap and began to read with a forced cheerfulness. After a moment, Octavia sat down as well. Rummaging her in valise, she extracted a needle and thread and began mending a small tear in her cloak.
The parcels of food lay untouched. No one seemed to be the least hungry.
“We may be in luck, sirs!”In his haste to convey the news, Squid burst into the sitting room of the elegant rented quarters without so much as a knock.
William dropped the papers he had been reading, while his uncle nearly sloshed half of his tea over his waistcoat. Thomas, who had been searching for an atlas among his belongings, stuck his head out from one of the bedchambers.
“A lad just appeared downstairs with word that a man answering to Mister Alex’s description has taken a room near the waterfront, in the same place as he stayed before.” The valet’s eyes were alight with excitement. “And there’s a nipper with him. I shall go at once?—”
Chittenden shot to his feet. “We all shall go.”
“Indeed we shall.” The marquess held up a note from the embassy. “As luck would have it, there is a convoy leaving for London on the ebb tide this evening. If it is really Alex, perhaps …” He looked expectantly at his uncle and then his brother. “I, for one, would not be adverse to quitting this land of snow and ice as soon as possible. Surely Alex will be just as eager to be on his way back to England.”
His uncle stroked his chin. “Hmm. I suppose it would do no harm to have the trunks taken around to the docks and the naval attaché ready to make room for us on one of the ships.”
Thomas had already gathered up their overcoats and hats. “Let’s be off, then.”
Squid flagged down a passing hackney and managed to convey to the driver where they wished to be taken. The man’s shaggy brows waggled in surprise as he eyed the elegant dressof the three gentlemen standing behind the valet, but he merely shrugged and gestured for them to climb inside.
A few coins pressed into the landlady’s gnarled hand convinced her to divulge exactly which room the tall stranger had been given. Unable to contain his impatience, Squid took the narrow stairs two at a time and was already rapping on the door as the three gentlemen reached the landing.
“Ssssh. Not a sound,”cautioned Octavia in a low whisper. Another flurry of knocks shook the door, with even more urgency than before. “Both of you—go into the bedchamber and close the door.” Nicholas began to mouth a protest, but Emma tugged on his sleeve and led him away.
Tossing her mending aside, she groped for one of the pistols hidden among the folded blankets. There was no time to rouse Alex—if indeed, he was in any state to be roused. Given the fact that the bottle in his coat pocket had been quite full, she decided her aim would be better than his at this point.
The flint and priming looked to be in order, so she moved to the door. “Who is there,” she demanded in a low, raspy growl she hoped would pass for a man’s voice.
“A-Alex? Is that you?”
The question had been spoken in English, but she hesitated, thinking it might only be a ruse.
“It’s me, Squid!”
Squid?It was quite unlikely any Russian would come up with such a name. Tightening her grip on the weapon, Octavia opened the door a crack. A slightly build young man with a thatch of golden curls peeking out from under his fur hat stood only inches from her, his fist poised to deliver yet another knock.
