Donovan shifted and sucked in a gasp of pain between his teeth. “You’re shocked,” he said.
“Not shocked,” Marek said flatly. “Surprised.”
“Revolted?” Donovan asked, his gaze on the hearth, and for the first time since meeting him, Marek thought the butler sounded a little less sure of himself.
“No,” Marek said. To each his own. “Wary.”
Donovan smiled lopsidedly and nodded. “Fair enough. Mrs. Honeycutt was wary at first, too. But you may take my word for it, sir—there is no better woman in London. She allows people to think what they will of us in this house, all for my sake.”
Marek understood. And it seemed to him quite a sacrifice for a young widow on the fringes of high society to make.
“She can be trusted to keep your secrets and remain true to her word,” Donovan said. He looked at Marek again. “But if you betray her, I will kill you.”
Marek thought the threat unnecessary, as he didn’t doubt for a moment that Donovan would. He might have offered that he didn’t intend to betray anyone, and that Donovan was hardly in a position at the moment to make any threat at all, but Mrs. Honeycutt rushed into the room with a young woman behind her, and the two of them began chattering at once and fluttering around Donovan, and the threat was forgotten.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Coalition for Decency and Morality has claimed victory in their uninvited war at Piccadilly Circus. Judging by the chatter around their latest round of violence, we may all look forward to the volunteers tidying up and down the Thames for us.
There are whispers that the peace talks between Alucia and Wesloria have stalled over disagreements to do with the Astasian region, a mountainous range between the two countries where rich coal deposits have been located.
Ladies, Mrs. Sutter of Lombard Street is making holly wreaths for purchase. Please do call Monday through Thursday.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and Domesticity for Ladies
“WHATHAVEYOUdone, Donny?” Ruth cried. She came down to her knees before her friend and put her hand on his chest. “You’ve got up to some trouble, you did, and now look at you.”
“I didn’t beat myself, lass,” Donovan said. “I didn’t—ach,” he said, wincing when she tried to take the neckcloth from his neck.
“We should get him to his room,” Hollis said.
“Thank you, I can walk,” Donovan said.
“You can’t possibly walk!” Hollis insisted. She hurried to the door to open it wider. “Will you help, Mr. Brendan?” Mr. Brendan did not respond. He was looking at Hollis curiously when she turned back to the room. His hearing! No wonder he’d seemed so aloof. He really couldn’t hear very well at all. “Will you help us get Donovan to his room?”
“Je,”he said, without a moment’s hesitation, and moved to stand in front of Donovan.
“That won’t be necessary, I can manage,” Donovan protested.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hollis said. “You don’t even know if you can stand.”
She watched as Mr. Brendan leaned down, slipped his arms under Donovan’s, and hauled him to his feet. Donovan stood uncertainly, testing his weight. When he tried to walk, his right leg buckled. Mr. Brendan draped Donovan’s arm around his neck, then braced his arm around Donovan’s waist. “Easy,” he said, and together, the two men began to make their way out of the drawing room.
“Where?” Mr. Brendan asked Hollis as she darted ahead.
“Up the stairs, two flights, to the right,” she said. “Ruth, bring something we can wrap around his rib cage. And tell Mrs. Plum we must clean his cuts.”
Ruth hurried out, already calling for Mrs. Plum.
Hollis kept in front of Donovan and Mr. Brendan, pausing every few steps to see if they followed. On the first landing, Donovan looked as if he was wilting, so Mr. Brendan squatted down and lifted Donovan onto one shoulder. “It will hurt like Hades, but it’s quicker,” he said, and began to stride up the stairs with Donovan crying out every few steps.
In Donovan’s room, Mr. Brendan said, “A hand, please, Mrs. Honeycutt. I’ll need you to keep him from falling as I lower him down.”
She quickly moved around to his right, and as he lowered Donovan off his shoulder, Hollis braced Donovan to keep him from falling. But he was heavy, and he slid off awkwardly. When he did, his arm brushed against Mr. Brendan’s hair, pulling it forward from having been combed back behind his ears. That’s when Hollis very clearly saw the patch of white in Mr. Brendan’s hair. She was so startled she forgot that she was helping, and Donovan bounced onto the bed.
“Bloody hell,”he groaned.
Hollis straightened up and looked at Mr. Brendan. His attention was on Donovan—he was trying to swing his feet around to the end of the bed. He had brushed his hair back into place, but she could still see a tiny bit of white.White, Eliza had said. King Maksim and his daughters had those curious streaks of white in their hair.As if the artist had forgotten to dash on a bit of color to fill in the hair.
