Page 51 of Lord of Fortune
“And to apparently save my toilet. Thank you.”
“We still leaving early tomorrow?” Egg asked.
“Yes. Why would things have changed?”
Egg shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you and Mrs. Forrest might want to linger here a little longer.”
On his way to the door, Penn turned, narrowing his eyes at Egg. “What are you implying exactly?”
“Nothing, really. You and Mrs. Forrest just seem quite…friendly.”
He was the second person to ask after his relationship with Amelia. What were they seeing? Yes, they’d shared a kiss, but that was all. “Yes, we’re friendly. What would you rather us be?”
Egg snorted. “Not obtuse, but never mind that. You’re adults.”
Penn rolled his eyes. “I’m leaving now.” He went downstairs into the small dining room and found that Amelia was already seated.
She looked up at him, and it seemed her gaze took in his combed hair and his tidy cravat. He was suddenly grateful for Egg’s intrusion. She held up a tankard. “Mr. Jessup insisted I try his ale. It’s quite good.”
“My favorite, actually.” He realized he’d left his empty vessel up in his room. Then his gaze fell on the fresh one set at his place. “I see Mr. Jessup has thought to provide one for me as well.”
“I asked him to. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Penn took his seat. “Their food is excellent as well.”
“I look forward to it.”
Etta appeared with their dinner plates. “Two courses,” she said in her usual soft tone. Sometimes Penn had to strain to hear her. “Here’s the first. Duck with carrots and potatoes.”
Penn’s mouth watered at the food. “It looks splendid, thank you.”
Etta’s cheeks flushed a pale pink as her eyes met his. “I hope you enjoy it.” Then she was gone, leaving him alone with Amelia once more.
“I trust your accommodations are acceptable?” he asked.
“More than. I can see why you come back here again and again.”
“That and the Jessups are good people. Speaking of Mr. Jessup, he has trouble with his joints—they bother him in the winter. I mentioned that you have some experience with healing remedies and may be able to help him.”
She swallowed her bite of duck with a nod. “That’s not uncommon at his age. My grandfather suffered from the same sort of aches. Willow-bark tea with ginger will help him quite a bit. I can write out how to make it.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”
They ate for a few minutes before she paused to take a drink of ale. She peered at him over her tankard and, when she replaced it on the table, asked, “I’d like to confess something.”
That sounded serious. He set his knife and fork down. “What’s that?”
“I’m…nervous about having taken the heart from the museum.” She picked up her fork and poked at a carrot. “It just feels wrong somehow. Perhaps because my grandfather found it and put it there. I don’t like thinking I’m undoing his work.”
Penn didn’t like her feeling unsettled, but he wasn’t sure there was anything he could say to reassure her. She still believed the heart upstairs in his room was real. At least he thought she did. “Do you still think it’s the real artifact?”
Her eyes widened briefly as her gaze latched to his. She took a moment to respond, and when she did, she surprised him. “I’m not sure.” She pressed her lips together. “And I hate that.”
Penn’s frame relaxed against the chair as her words sank in. She’d begun to come around. He chose his next words carefully. “Maybe that’s where your anxiety is coming from.”
“Probably.” She frowned down at her plate, then took another sip of ale. “I don’t know what to believe.” She raised her gaze to his once more, and he saw determination in their depths. “I do know I want to find the truth, and that means recovering the White Book of Hergest. Do you really think we’ll be able to?”
He leaned over the table slightly and lifted his lips in a confident smile. “I’m very good at what I do.”
