you?”
With Mrs. Olmstead likely sitting by her parlor window? “Definitely.”
He took her hand in his. “Excellent. And we shall speak again in a few days, yes?”
“I hope so, if we are to get to know each other.” How else were they to decide to become roommates, bedmates, lovers? Simone doubted most liaisons were conducted from afar, but she understood that, along with accepting gifts, a kept woman kept her mouth shut. She did not disagree with her protector or tell him he was the strangest man she had ever met. She certainly did not pull away, even if his beard tickled her hand when he raised it to his lips. At the soft touch of his kiss, she pictured a younger, far more handsome man, tall and dark-haired, with startling blue eyes, the Harry of her wishful thinking. Maybe she was imagining Major Harrison in his younger days. He was definitely not young enough now for her to brush at the white hairs on his dark coat sleeve, the way she would have done for her brother. She supposed she could show concern for him, though. “You will be safe until then?”
He smiled, or she thought he did under the heavy moustache. “Now you are sounding just as a mistress ought, concerned about next week’s bills.”
“No, sir, I recall the danger you spoke of.”
“I know, my dear. I was teasing. My, we do have a great deal to learn about each other, don’t we? I promise to explain more when I see you. Rest assured you will be in no peril at the Kensington house. Mr. Harris will guarantee it. And I have not forgotten about your brother’s schooling. Mr. Harris will handle that also if you give him the proper address. I shall send a messenger to Lord Rexford for that other document’s signature.”
“If nothing does happen to me, this viscount will not have any hold over Auguste, will he?” She could not imagine what a viscount would want with a bookish youth, but had to be certain. Auguste was her brother, and she would not let any disinterested nobleman send him off to the Navy or the East India Company to be rid of the responsibility.
“Nothing will happen, to you or your kin. I promise. And I do not lie.”
But Major Harrison was obviously a madman or a senile old fool. What good were his promises?
Chapter Five
Major Harrison left. Not long after, an undistinguished carriage pulled up at Mrs. Olmstead’s boarding house. The thickset driver handed the reins to a young groom and got down, pulling his broad-brimmed hat lower over his eyes.
“Come to fetch Miss Ryland’s things, I has,” he explained to the scowling landlady. “She’s been taken on by a connection to the Earl of Royce in a hurry.”
“The Earl of Royce? Oh, my.” The scowl turned to avid curiosity. Mrs. Olmstead kept up with the latest news of the polite world and knew every notable by name, if not by sight. “I wonder which. I know the earl’s son was married not long ago and fathered twins. His wife is an accused murder. Miss Ryland should have asked me before accepting a post there.”
“Lady Rexford were never brought to trial,” the coachman answered in a gruff tone. “They found the real killer. And the twins are mere babes. Too young for a governess.”
“Quite right. I wonder which relation, then,” Mrs. Olmstead hinted, waiting for information.
“Not for me to say, for sure. I just drives the coach. Bound to be better’n her last post, from what I hear tell.” Now the driver paused, waiting for information himself.
None was forthcoming except a nod of agreement. “I suppose I should be glad for her, even if it means I’ll have to look for a new boarder. I’ll miss the young lady, I will. Never gave me a moment’s trouble.”
“Nice sort, was she?”
The landlady was glad to talk as she hauled her rounded body up the stairs to the attic room. “She was a lady,” Mrs. Olmstead told him, between huffs and puffs, “no matter her going into service. Didn’t put on airs or nothing, but she acted proper, modest
Learning to Kill: Stories