With a brisk nod that might have meant good night, Mrs.Rains departed, leaving him in almost total gloom.Picking up the candle holder, he went in search of another.At least the room was small, so there was not much to see except for a grubby washing bowl and a jug of cold water that might have sat there for a long time.And a cupboard door in the wall that joined with Tabitha’s chamber.If he could believe Mrs.Rains.
Setting his candle down, he rummaged in his saddle bags.Over the last few weeks, he had stayed in some odd places, and he had learned the comfort and the necessity of light—something he had never even considered in his over-privileged and sheltered life.So, when he had bought his new provisions after the robbery, he had included a couple of candles.He lit one of them from the inn candle, and leaving the bedside glow he took the other light to the un-shuttered window.There were no curtains either and there was little to see outside beneath the dingy night sky.
He was completely cut off from anything that might be happening in the front inn yard.Were the Rainses merely smugglers of dubious character, or knowing traitors to their country?
Moving on from the window, he came to the cupboard.It did not have a lock, or even a bolt.He opened it, and a cobweb dropping on his face startled him.There was nothing inside the closet, but the wall was clearly much thinner here because he heard the murmur of female voices from beyond it.It seemed the ladies were not yet asleep.
He felt again the urge to tell Tabitha the truth about himself.And Lily.Whether they cared or not, it was the right thing to do.And then, if this cupboard was mirrored on their side, and there was some kind of danger from it...
He stepped inside it, gently feeling his way around its walls.The voices were much clearer here.
“How odd,” Lily was saying sleepily, “that I should meet the lieutenant immediately after Ralph’s betrothal story.Do you think it is fate, Tabbie?”
“No, I don’t,” came Tabitha’s brisker tones.She forgot to drawl sometimes, perhaps when she was genuinely interested.He had won that privilege sometimes...“You will meet a great many personable young men before you need make any decision.You will most certainly not be marrying some death’s head on a stick—or even on two legs—so stop worrying about it and go to sleep.”
Jack stepped back as though he had been stung, his hands falling limply to his sides.
Lily giggled.“Good night, Tab.”
“Good night, Lily.”
Chapter Six
“Death’s head on a stick.”
He did not know why that should hurt so much.Perhaps just becauseshesaid it.He had always known about the Duke of Death nickname, and to her knowledge they had never met.But was he really such a joke to society?To her?
I amnotdead.In the last month, I have felt more alive than ever in my life; and in the last week...
In the last week, he had hidden and lied.Friends did not do that.Honourable men did not do that.She owed him nothing, as a stranger or as Isbourne.It mattered nothing that he was so magnanimously going to give Lily the chance to be his wife or not.He was and would always be to both of them, this pitiable laughing stock.The death’s head on two ducal legs, one of which was, presumably, finely balanced on a bar of soap by the grave’s edge.
He could not even laugh at himself.
At some point, he seemed to have sat down on the bed.It felt cold and faintly damp under his fingers.Nurse would be horrified.In truth, so was he, beneath the foolish humiliation of what he had overheard.
It took him some time to get all that hurt and idiocy back into proportion and remember the importance of what he had been doing in the cupboard in the first place.He had been making sure it was safe for Tabitha and Lily.That was his first priority.His second was to tell them the truth.
