Page 49 of The King's Man
Kit looked out of the smoky window. ‘Would you care for a walk? It is a surprisingly fine day. One could almost think spring was imminent.’
Thamsine considered for a moment. He might be living with his mistress, but an hour or so of his company would be preferable to her present occupation. She nodded.
Kit looked her up and down as she returned with her cloak and hat. ‘Might I say your new gown becomes you well?’
She could not resist a small smile of pleasure at the compliment and dipped a curtsey. ‘Why thank you, kind sir. ’Tis a long time since someone paid me such a compliment and it’s good to be clean, well-fed and have some coin in my pocket, all for doing what I do best.’
‘Amen to that sentiment,’ he said, returning the curtsey with a studied, courtly bow. He raised an eyebrow and crooked his arm. Thamsine tucked her hand into his elbow. They ambled at a gentle pace, in perfect step with each other.
‘Do you intend to stay at the Ship?’ Kit asked.
‘It suits me. I have nowhere else to stay. Where are we going?’ Thamsine asked.
‘I thought we might stroll to the New Exchange,’ Kit said. ‘I heard that a coffee house has opened there. Have you ever sampled coffee?’
‘No. What is it?’
‘It is a brew made from a bean they discovered in the New World. It is becoming quite fashionable, particularly among those who abhor strong drink.’
‘What does it taste like?’
Kit shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. I’ve not sampled it myself. Does a bit of adventure suit you?’
‘It sounds a mild adventure compared to my recent experience.’
Kit grimaced and stopped, rubbing his right leg.
‘Are you all right?’ Thamsine asked.
‘An old wound that did not take kindly to the conditions in the Tower. Pay me no heed.’
He took her hand in his arm and they started walking again, but Kit’s limp had become noticeably more pronounced than she remembered it being before.
‘Does it bother you much?’ she asked needlessly.
‘Only when it gets cold and damp, or I ride for too long. In other words, most of the winter,’ Kit grumbled. ‘But I’ve learned to live with it.’
‘How did you get it?’
‘Worcester,’ he said shortly.
‘My brother died at Worcester,’ Thamsine said. ‘He wanted his chance of glory.’
The muscles beneath her hand tensed and his lips tightened. Without looking at her he said, ‘He was not the only hot-headed young fool who thought to avenge his family’s honour.’
She bit back the questions that rose to her mind but decided instead to change the subject. ‘So, Kit Lovell, are you done with conspiracies?’
He looked down at her, and the twinkle of humour returned to his eyes. ‘I can make no promises. Don’t look like that, Mistress Granville. It’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime.’
‘Why not give it all away and settle for a quiet life?’
‘What’s a quiet life?’
‘Have you no home at all here in England?’
His face shadowed. ‘There is the pathetic remnant of the family estates in Cheshire, but my welcome there would hardly be warm. Anyway, even if I wished to settle to what you call a quiet life, it wouldn’t be in England.’
‘Then where?’
