Page 61 of The King's Man
A muscle twitched in Kit’s cheek. ‘Sit down!’
She lowered herself back onto the seat.
He closed his eyes. ‘Sorry, Thamsine. I didn’t mean that to sound like an order. I meant only to thank you for your work tonight.’
‘I do what I’m required to do.’
‘No, tonight you were prepared to go a little further and for that I thank you.’ He ran a hand across his eyes. ‘I am tired and short of temper. I didn’t mean to snap at you.’
She shrugged. ‘You’re playing a dangerous game, Captain Lovell. I hope the stakes are worth it.’
‘I play for a life, Thamsine. The stakes cannot be raised any higher.’
‘Whose life? Yours?’
He shook his head. ‘Not me. My life doesn’t matter.’
She watched him in silence. He looked tired. The shadows around his eyes seemed to have sunk deeper and the lilt of laughter had gone from his mouth.
‘Lucy will be waiting for you,’ she said, her tone softening.
‘Lucy can wait. I am not her lapdog, to come and go at her bidding. The reason I lodge with her is one of convenience,’ he snapped.
Thamsine shrugged. ‘You could find lodging elsewhere.’
‘You’re right, I could, but Lucy is an escape from this mess … ’ He ran his hand through his hair, a gesture she’d noticed before when he felt under any pressure. ‘Do you hate me, Thamsine?’
She shook her head. ‘No, but I won’t forget what you did to me.’
‘If I had let you be caught on the day you tried to kill our beloved Lord Protector, what do you think would have happened to you? Newgate or the Fleet, the gallows even. You wouldn’t have stood a chance.’
‘You didn’t have to turn me in.’
‘And if I hadn’t, would you be sitting there in a new gown, considering retiring to a comfortable bed upstairs? We’re all governed by fate, Thamsine.’
‘Do you believe we have no say in how our lives go, Lovell? Is life pre-ordained by God?’
‘God and I have not been on speaking terms for some years now, Thamsine, so don’t talk to me of God.’
‘What did God do to you?’
‘Wasn’t there when I needed him … ’ He looked up at her and smiled. ‘Go to your bed, Thamsine. You look tired.’
She rose to her feet. ‘Good night, Kit.’
It was the first time she had called him by his first name in a long time. He looked up at her and smiled. ‘Good night, Thamsine.’
As he turned to go, he said, ‘Thamsine?’
She turned back towards him. He frowned, and his lips parted as if he intended to ask her a difficult question. Then he shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
Chapter 16
On Friday, promptly at two in the afternoon, Thamsine presented herself at the door to Lucy Talbot’s home in High Holborn. A large woman with a sour expression on her face showed Thamsine to a bright, airy parlour on the first floor of the prosperous house. If the late Martin Talbot had shown any interest in the interior decoration of his house, it was not in evidence. A woman’s hand had decorated this room. The walls were hung with brightly painted hangings depicting a biblical scene and the solid oak furnishings were alleviated with bright cushions and carpets from the East.
A lute sat on the well-polished table and Thamsine picked it up, allowing herself the luxury of playing a favourite air for the pure pleasure of it. She closed her eyes and let the music fill her soul.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw Kit lounging in the doorway. He had the look of someone who had just risen from his bed, his hair tousled and his chin unshaven. He leaned onearm against the doorframe and his shirt fell away from his left shoulder, revealing a puckered and fading scar.
