Her heart immediately gave a kick against her ribs.
She blinked at him, momentarily stunned, and then resolved to shake him out of her vision, turning to Rhys to snatch the rose oil from his hands.
“Hey!”
“That isnotboot polish, you little shit.”
Rhys grinned up at her. “It’s done, anyhow. Isn’t it bonny?”
She squinted at it, at the curling impression of something ancient and long-dead in the streaky silver-gray rock. “No.”
“It’s an oddity, don’t you agree?” Rhys asked, pushing himself to his feet. “A curiosity.”
Libba only stared at him, incredulous.
“Seph should have it,” he said, reaching forward and tucking it into Libba’s skirt pocket. “Don’t tell her it’s from me. Do tell her there are more up in the quarry, though. I think they’d sell.”
“What… Rhys?” she called after him, but he was already hopping off the stage, still half in costume and swaggering toward the exit without so much as a visit to the dressing rooms.
She stood there stupidly, watching him until the sunlight had vanished behind the door as it swung shut again.
She took a breath, closing her eyes briefly, and lowered her head so that when she opened them again, Jasper was in her vision. “He hates Seph,” she said, rather than greeting him. “What game is this?”
“What game is it ever, with that one?” Jasper replied, dropping his crooked leg to the ground and giving a long,languid stretch, which lifted the hem of his tunic up to reveal a tantalizing strip of flesh at his waist. “Little shitwill never bother him, though. You need to be more creative if you want to chastise him properly.”
She sighed, walking to the edge of the stage and collapsing down to dangle off the edge. “Suggestions?”
“Someone at the Cauldron called him ‘Taffy’ once and he broke the man’s finger,” Jasper said thoughtfully, tilting his head. “Though Rhys was more prone to outbursts at seventeen than he is today.”
“‘Taffy’? Like the sweet?” Libba asked, wrinkling her brow. “That’s hardly stinging.”
Jasper shrugged. “All I remember was him shouting, ‘I’m from Newport, Saes!’ and then grabbing the bloke’s wrist and bending all his fingers backward until one popped.”
Libba blinked several times as Jasper dissolved into a fond, nostalgic chuckle. “Oh.”
She frowned.
Malcolm had alluded to Rhys getting into scraps the night of the pub brawl. She just hadn’t taken it very seriously. He didn’tlookstrong.
“Ah, maybe like the River Taff?” Jasper said, his eyes popping open, gold and shining. “Yes, I think that must be it.”
“Well, that is stupid,” said Libba. “If someone called me ‘Thamesy,’ I’d probably be more confused than offended.”
“But if someone called you a ‘little shit,’ you’d be beside yourself,” Jasper pointed out. “We’re talking about a different animal entirely.”
She nodded, swinging her feet into the empty orchestra pit below. “I told you to meet me at the Rest,” she said, after a moment. “Tonight. What are you doing here?”
“Well, I was nearby,” he said, giving an odd, little chuckle and scratching at his hair. “And I thought perhaps the Rest was theworst place for whatever business it is you were alluding to back at the quarry. Erm… Whatwereyou… referencing, by the by?”
She flattened her mouth, staring at him long enough that he gave another nervous chuckle and pushed himself to his feet, like he couldn’t stand being seated any longer.
“I was delivering the list,” he said, shaking himself out and beginning to pace, “to the Templeton-Raths. Lib, I think it goes without saying that I no longer want to marry the heiress. I think you know that.”
“I don’t presume to know anything that goes on in that kettle of yours,” she said sharply. “What’s the matter? You don’t like cats?”
He tossed her a smirk and rolled his shoulders. “I certainly like them less today than I did a few weeks ago,” he said wryly. “It was a stupid plan from the start. I suspect you always knew that.”
“It can’t have beenthatstupid,” she retorted, “because it is working.”
