Lem appeared to be sorting through a stack of papers in his lap. He was wearing a pair of rectangular spectacles, which did give Jasper a moment of pause, but he hadn’t the capacity to consider it just now.
Rhys was dead asleep with his mouth hanging open, head unhinged backward over the top of a velvet tufted chair.
He didn’t see Libba anywhere.
Given the two actors to choose from, he thought the one who was both awake and had his mouth shut might be the best to ask.
“Er, Lem?” he said, sidling over and stepping around a stagehand and an actress who were at the end of his row.
Lem looked up, blinking as though he hadn’t expected to be interrupted.
Jasper realized at just that moment that he’d never actually spoken to this man before. He gave a queasy smile and shifted his weight, the pie sliding down the folio toward his chest. “Afternoon, Lem,” he managed. “I’m looking for Lib.”
“In the back,” said the big bodyguard, nodding with his shiny, bald head toward the stage doors. “With the banker.”
“‘The ban…’ You mean her brother?”
Lem shrugged. “She has many brothers. She is with the one who is a banker.”
“Right,” Jasper said, frowning. “Shall I wait for her out here with you or do you think it’s safe to go back?”
Lem was frowning at the folio. “You have brought us food?”
“Oh!” said Jasper, glancing down at it and then extending both arms with the folio serving as a platter. “Erm. Yes. Have it. Pie, you know.”
Lem’s lips twitched. “You made a pie?”
“The young lady made it, I think,” Jasper answered miserably. “To thank me for the cats.”
“Oh?” he said, a spark of interest in his eye. “Miss Rath made this?”
Jasper shook his head. “Her cousin.”
They stared at one another for an extended moment, during which Jasper wondered if he had begun to sweat. “What’s that you’ve got there?” he asked, placing the pie on one seat and slumping into the other. “Accounts? I can help with accounts.”
“Alas, no,” said Lem, his lips curling at the corners. “This is my… hm. I suppose it is my certificate of birth. Or it will be, if the magistrate signs it.”
“Oh,” said Jasper. “Bit late with that, aren’t we?”
“Just a bit,” Lem agreed with a chuckle. “Do you want me to check in the back and ask if you are safe to approach?”
“God, yes.” Jasper felt like a punctured balloon, his shoulders immediately sagging. “Please. And thank you.”
“It is nothing,” the other man said, allowing himself one more faint chuckle before he stood, deposited his papers atop the pie, and strode off to be proactive in Jasper’s stead.
Jasper clasped his hands in front of him for a few moments. He bounced his knees. He chewed his lip. He looked at the papers.
They were standard legal jargon, he thought, tilting his head to make out the writing sticking out. Prissy and overly formal.
“Paternal claimant, upon issue of unknown child, mother deceased. Issue and estate security forthwith acknowledged.”
He blinked at it for a few minutes. It looked as though this claim of birthright was going to be taking place very soon, within the next few days, based on the dates written here.
So Lem had a father in Brighton?
That seemed a hell of a coincidence.
He reached a hand out, touching the top page, and then startled as Lem came back into view, whipping his fingers back into his lap, where they belonged.
