Page 34 of Silence of Deceit
“Irefused his company, sour as it would have been,” she corrected.
The barmaid arrived right then with their supper: bread and what appeared to be cottage pie. Audrey’s stomach gave a ravenous grumble. Hugh’s plate had already been cleared. He watched her as she picked up her fork and knife.
“If you are finished, don’t let us keep you,” she said, unnerved by his inflexible stare.
“We still have something to discuss,” he replied.
Greer and Carrigan stood at the same time, collecting their suppers.
“I’ll go up to the room, Your Grace, to prepare it. Room three,” Greer informed her, and she and Carrigan vacated the table for a few free stools at the bar.
“That was extremely rude,” she said to Hugh as soon as her servants settled away from them. Audrey speared the cottage pie with her fork. The pastry crust was flaky and golden, and she couldn’t resist the groan of delight when she swallowed her first bite.
“I would like you to go back to London,” he said evenly, ignoring her chastisement.
She speared another forkful. “I do not take orders from you.”
“It isn’t an order. It is a sensible request.”
She swallowed her food and sipped some of her ale. While she would have preferred tea, posting inns and taverns had limited offerings. Besides, after a day of road travel, the ale might help her sleep more easily.
“As I am already going to Shadewell,” she replied, “perhapsyoushould turn around and go back to London. If I find anything of import, I’ll be sure to send a note.”
Hugh sat forward, elbows coming down upon the table. “Have you learned nothing over the last several months? This is not a game, Audrey. Two women have been killed, both connected to you. If you go sniffing around Shadewell, poking into the records, and the killer learns of your interest, the same woman who killed Mary could very well come after you next.”
The warning succeeded in slowing her next bite of cottage pie. She swallowed hard and touched her napkin to the corner of her lips. “I understand there is risk involved—”
He slammed his palm onto the table, causing the plates and bowls to jump. The chatter around them ebbed. Audrey sat paralyzed, stunned at the outburst. A few moments later, as the tavern conversation picked up again, Hugh curled his hand into a tight fist.
“I am sorry.” He unclenched his hand and raked his fingers through his dark hair. Hugh sat back again, visibly attempting to calm his temper. She noticed then the dark smudges under his eyes, the stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the hard set of his jaw. He looked utterly bedraggled. For a man such as Hugh Marsden, a day of post road travel should not have worn on him so drastically. Worry tensed his brow, but she knew it was something more than just her stubborn insistence on traveling to Northumberland.
“I am not the only one you’re angry with,” she said. “What is wrong?”
Hugh lifted his eyes to hers. “Before leaving London, my errand boy, Sir…” He paused, his eyes drifting toward the backs of their neighbors at another table. Audrey set down her fork. “He was attacked. Stabbed.”
Breath gusted from her lungs as she thought of the scrappy boy who seemed to be tied to Hugh’s shadow. “My god. Is he very badly injured?”
By Hugh’s morose expression, she gathered the answer for herself. He nodded. “Basil is with him at London Hospital. Sir was watching the boarding house where Delia lived and had said the ladies there had taken a liking to him. One of them, Winnie, brought Sir in after he was stabbed. I tried to find her to ask what happened, but by then, she had disappeared from the boarding house.”
Audrey’s hunger dwindled, and she folded her arms on top of the table. She peered at Hugh, wanting to help him in some way.
“He was hurt because of something I asked him to do, I can feel it,” he muttered, rubbing his palm against his stubbled cheek. He looked utterly lost, and her heart ached for him.
“You are not to blame.”
“I told him to stop watching the boarding house, that it wasn’t necessary any longer, but he probably hoped to find something, some nugget of information to surprise me with—” He sealed his lips and turned away from her.
On impulse, she reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. At the touch of his warm skin, she went still. An image breathed into her mind, clouding her vision, and whisking her into another room with rows of beds and men lain out upon them. A hospital ward. The closest bed held a pale boy, eyes closed, a sheet pulled back to display his undernourished chest and stomach. A bandage wrapped his torso, and bruises riddled his skin.
With a gasp, she retracted her hand. The image scattered like dust, and Hugh sat before her again. He glanced between his hand and hers, which she quickly pulled back into her lap.
“I’m…I didn’t think it would...” Audrey bit her lower lip. Skin-to-skin contact hardly ever churned up memories, but when it did, she suspected it was something the person was currently envisioning. Or perhaps a most calamitous thought. A memory that plagued them, pained them, and wouldn’t abate.
Hugh flexed his hand. “Did you see something?”
She gave a jerky nod. “The boy. Sir. In hospital.”
The wretched thing. Far too thin and bruised. And the sight of him weighed heavy on Hugh’s conscience. There was a part of London she had never known, cruel and unjust. It chewed up boys like Sir and spat them out. Life was merciless for so many.
