The maid’s eyes grew wide, and she looked at once to Lucan, who nodded at her as he leaned his shoulder against the mantle of the fireplace, crossing his arms over his chest. No one else in the room was paying him the least attention—they were all gathered in an anxious semi-circle around Effie as she sat in the matching chair on the far side of the small table from Chumley. And so Lucan took the opportunity to observe, and to gather his own thoughts.
Rolf poured a tall draught of the ale into a cup and pressed it into Effie’s hand.
She took a long drink and then lowered the cup to her lap, with her fingers wrapped about it securely. “George Thomas is at Westminster. I saw him and spoke to him. He is well. Very well, actually,” she allowed in a quiet voice. “Caris Hargrave and Vivienne Paget were also there.”
Lucan expected the group to gasp or exclaim or show some type of shock at this news, but it was as if Effie had reported nothing more than a casual observation of the weather. Rolf approached him with the other cup, and Lucan gratefully took it as the maid entered with the requested dishware.
She skittered out again quickly when Chumley gave her a wink and a “you’re splendid, love.”
“Why didn’t you bring George back with you?” Gorman asked.
Effie swallowed visibly before she spoke, and yet her voice still sounded strangled. “I couldn’t.”
“These are surely made for children,” Chumley growled, holding up one of the cups. It was even smaller than the ones the maid had initially delivered.
Gilboe snatched it from his hand and proceeded to pour.
Gorman insisted, “Why? Why couldn’tyou bring him?”
Effie raised her face at last, but it was to look across the room at Lucan—she couldn’t bring herself to say it, he realized. Everyone turned to give him their attention, even as the rattling rush of nuts clattered onto the rug and rolled about the wood planks as Chumley then proceeded to fill the deepbowl with ale.
Lucan stated the facts of the situation as put to them by the king as concisely as possible.
Again, there was no cry of outrage from the group. It was almost as if they’d expected the worst, and this was not it.
Winnie sank down to her knees beside Effie’s chair and stroked her hair, pulled her head onto her bony shoulder and cradled her cheek.
“Very well,” Rolf said with a matter-of-fact nod at Lucan before looking to Effie. “We shall leave at once, of course. Where do we begin the search?”
Lucan felt his eyebrows rise. “Ah, well. I don’t think that will be necessary. It has very little to do with you all. Perhaps it would be best if you returnedto your home.”
Everyone stared at him as if he had grown another head.
“Really, I mean we would attract unwanted attention if we were to attempt to gain Scotland together. Easy prey for…” Lucan brokeoff, awkwardly.
“Bandits?” Chumley offered helpfully.
“Well,” Lucan stammered. “Yes. Bandits, I suppose.”
“He isn’t wrong,” Gorman offered. “With seven of us…”
Gilboe nodded. “Yes, just so. We’ll return to the Warren, right away.”
Lucan was a bit surprised at this easy surrender, but only for a moment.
“Dana?” Gorman suggested. “And Bob.”
“Bob?”Lucan repeated.
“Bob the Butcher’s Boy,” Gilboe offered with a gentle smile, as if that somehow clarified things. He then looked to Gorman. “James.”
“We must have James Rose,” Chumley murmured. He saluted with the bowl before bringing it tohis lips again.
Winnie made quick motionswith her hands.
Gorman nodded. “Kit Katey; yes, of course.”
“Wait,” Lucan interjected. “Who are all these people? They are people,are they not?”
