Her cheeks redden, and I laugh.
She scowls at me. “You enjoyed that.”
“You started it. Do not try to shock me in such regards, my dear, or I shall turn the tables faster than you like. Now, you promised me a pint, did you not?”
“I just helped you with your case. And helped you find reading material. I think you owemea pint.”
“True, however, if you choose to dress as a lad, you must behave as a lad. It would not do for people to see a young lady paying for your pint. What would they think?”
She shakes her head and grumbles under her breath as she leads me to a pub.
ChapterFourteen
When we get back to the town house, the coach has returned, and we pop into the stable to speak to Simon, who’s putting Folly to bed for the night. Simon has been wary around Jack. It isn’t that he has an issue with cross-dressing. That’s actually why Isla hired him. Simon was part of the molly subculture, as a gay man who sometimes socialized while dressed as a woman. He’d been young, and with youth can come the confidence that people won’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t hurt them. A lovely sentiment, but sadly false.
While being a gay man isn’t illegal in Scotland, as it is elsewhere in Britain, it’s still not something you want to flaunt, which is what got Simon into trouble. If he’s cautious around Jack, it’s because she’s cross-dressing for a different reason. Tonight, though, they strike up a conversation, and I use the opportunity to slip off and give them a chance to chat.
I’m just inside the door and sitting to change into my indoor footwear when boots clomp on the stairs. I look up to see Gray coming down.
“You were out,” he says.
I lift the winter boot I just removed. “Yes.”
“It is late.”
“It is.” I finish lacing my indoor boots. While I’m going to need to take them off again upstairs in my room, walking around in my stocking feet would be like walking around half dressed. It is simply not done.
I stand. “I did leave a note.”
“Yes, I got it.”
I lean against the wall and look up at him still halfway down the stairs. “You know, this feels familiar. Like when I was a teenager and I’d come home past curfew and my dad would wait up to give me hell.”
“I did not wait up. I wasstillup.”
I don’t answer that. I know from Simon that Gray has been home for the past hour, and given how late it is, he’d normally have gone straight to his room.
“But youaregiving me hell?” I say.
“I am expressing mild concern. I know you were with Jack, and I know you are fond of her, but I am not convinced...”
“She wouldn’t leave me to my fate if we got jumped in an alley?”
“Exactly so.”
“I had my gun and my knife.”
He considers this. Not considering whether this is enough—I suspect I could roll through the Old Town in a tank and he still wouldn’t be convinced it was safe enough. What he’s considering is whether he would be justified in pursuing the complaint.
“How wasyourevening?” I ask.
He still pauses, as if debating whether he’s ready to drop this. Then he sighs. “It went much later than I expected. I thought I would have been done hours ago, but I was not even granted an audience until nearly nine.”
“Damned nobility.”
“I considered leaving. Unfortunately, they were good clients of my father’s, and they are also well connected enough that being rude to them might cost me half my clientele. Which sometimes I think would not be the worst thing...” He scratches his chin and sighs again. “Perhaps someday.”
I used to wonder why Gray keeps the undertaking business when he clearly does not care for it... and doesn’t need the money. I understand better now. It’s duty and pride. Duty to his family, because his father built the business and Gray inherited it. It’s also pride because his forensic work doesn’t pay the bills, and he wouldn’t be comfortable living off passive income from money his father made and invested.
