Page 72 of The Number of Love
Red was due any minute, and Drake had hoped to send him out today to follow the bloke. But with no bloke to follow, what was he to do?
He paced the flat, which he’d been doing as much as he could manage. He had eventually made it up the stairs the other day, but he probably wouldn’t have, had Red not been helping him. And that wouldn’t do. Not for long. Who knew what he might have to do to evade Jaeger?
The doctor had told him not to push—but then, the doctor had also praised his progress when hedidpush, saying that morning, “See there? The proper amount of rest and your body heals itself.”
Ha. He’d given up on rest and had taken to walking whenever he wasn’t working. Around the flat, down the corridor outside their door, down a few stairs and then back up. Not many at a time—hewouldn’t strand himself and then have to listen to Dot berating him for it. But a few, repeated, was the same as more in the long run.
He slanted a glance at the table. Beside his stacks of newly decoded intelligence that he’d been reading through today, he had another letter he’d ask Red to post, to Margot. He’d sent a new one each day, and she had to be getting them. She’d be coming for dinner tonight. And whether she addressed the subject or not, he’d at least make sure the letter wasn’t just sitting there. That would be awkward.
At least if she wanted to pretend she didn’t know they were from him. Though she must.
A knock sounded on the door, and Drake was able to get to it in almost normal time. He opened it with a smile for Red, who was positively beaming back.
“I’ve found a position!”
“Come in.” Drake stepped back and motioned his friend in. “That’s wonderful news. Where?”
“The prosthetics factory—the one owned by Lord Whitby and his daughter, that Miss De Wilde gave me the card for. I had my interview this morning, and they’ve offered me a position. A good one. I’ll be helping develop new devices, with room to advance. I could be a manager someday, they said, if it all pans out.” He sank to a seat with a look of blissful awe on his face. “They even advanced me my first pay. Can you believe it?”
“Of course I can.” Grinning, Drake settled on the couch he’d not had to resort to lying on at all yet today. “I told you, Red. Circumstances change. You’ll be the perfect man for that job, and kudos to them for realizing it.”
And to Margot for having mentioned him to Lord Whitby. And to Red himself for following up on it when other men would have been too proud to chase a lead they hadn’t found for themselves.
He only let his gaze slide once to the window, outside of which no man in a grey overcoat was waiting to be followed.
And he wouldn’t be followed now, even if he came back. Not by Red, at least. “When do you begin work?”
“Monday. I can’t stay long—I need to find some clothes. The suit De Wilde gave me won’t work for business, I suppose. I’ll need something appropriate for daytime. Brown, perhaps, or grey. The advance will cover it. They were quite generous.”
He’d borrowed a suit from Lukas De Wilde? For Margot’s birthday dinner, Drake assumed. Which must have been her doing. And she must have done it subtly, because Dot hadn’t said anything, and it was the sort of thing she would have mentioned, solely as praise for her friend.
Praise she deserved. She hadn’t even known Red then—but she’d gone out of her way to be kind. To help him.
Did she realize she had such a soft heart under that barricade of mathematics? Or perhaps for her itwasmathematics. One man in need combined with one man with plenty equaled a fine solution.
“I can’t quite believe it.” Red scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’d almost begun to think ... but this changes everything. Everything.”
“I’m so glad for you, Red.” And more than a little relieved. He still wasn’t sure where his friend had been living, or if he managed to purchase any meals aside from the ones he shared with them here. “You’re still joining us tonight, aren’t you? You certainly should. We can celebrate.” They’d all agreed last time that they’d make it a habit—the four of them, sharing a meal of an evening. It would guarantee Red got one, that Margot didn’t have to take hers alone, and that Dot and Drake had some extra company to keep from annoying each other.
“I wouldn’t miss it. Though I’d better go and do that shopping now. I had to come by straightaway, though, to tell you. Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“Just a letter to post, if you would.” He nodded toward it and stood. “And actually, if you’re going to be dropping by a haberdasher, I could use a new hat. Fedora, size seven and a quarter.”
Red quirked a brow. “Planning another jaunt out of doors, are you?”
Drake smirked back. “Well, I’m not going to be staying inside forever. The goal’s to get out and about, after all.”
“Were it up to your physician alone, you’d still be in hospital.”
“Yes, well. Thank the Lord for Admiral Hall and his powers of persuasion.” He sidled over to the money tin and drew out two pound notes. “This ought to be enough, I’d think. Though if not—”
“If not, then I’ll cover it and you can reimburse me later.” The words were casual, but Red’s tone was elated. “Color?”
“Grey or black. Use your judgment.”
“Until this evening, then. Cheerio.”
He left with every bit as much enthusiasm as he’d entered, leaving Drake to smile and shake his head at the empty-again flat.
