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His bath was in a tin tub that barely fit Sam’s body, but the warmth and steam felt good to his aching muscles. Then he dressed, grimacing as he laced his older pair of moccasins, and went down to break his fast. The hour might be late for him, but for an English aristocrat, it was still early and when he limped into the breakfast room, it was only half full.
The room was long, running across a portion of the back of the house. Diamond-paned windows lined the outer wall, letting in the morning light. Instead of one long table, smaller ones had been set here and there for the diners. Sam nodded to a gentleman whose name escaped him and tried to correct his limp as he made his way to the dishes laid out on a sideboard on the far end of the room. Rebecca was already there, peering at a plate of fried gammon.
“There you are!” his sister muttered at him.
Sam glanced sideways at her. “Good morning to you, too.”
She scowled at him, then cleared her brow when she saw Lady Hopedale staring at them. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” He placed a slice of gammon on his plate. He’d noticed the other day that it was particularly good here.
“Pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” his sister said in palpable exasperation.
Sam looked at her. In fact, he had no idea what she was talking about.
Rebecca blew out a breath of air, then said slowly as if talking to a very small child, “You were gone all day yesterday. No one knew where you and Lord Vale were. You were missing.”
Sam opened his mouth, but she leaned into him and continued in a whisper, “I was worried about you. That’s what happens when you suddenly disappear and no one can find you and people start wondering if you’ve fallen into a ditch and are lying dead somewhere. Your sister starts to worry about you.”
Sam blinked. He wasn’t used to accounting for his movements to anyone. He was a grown man and in the peak of health. Why would anyone worry about him? “There’s no reason to worry. I can take care of myself.”
“That’s not the point!” Rebecca hissed loud enough to make a matron with pendulous jowls look back at them. “You could be the strongest, most well-armed man in the world, and I would still worry if you disappeared for no reason.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
Rebecca slapped a salted herring onto her plate. “What doesn’t make any sense is you.” She turned and marched off with her fish.
Sam was still staring after her, trying to understand where he had gone wrong in the conversation, when Vale spoke beside him. “Your sister’s feathers seem to be ruffled.”
Sam glanced at the other man and winced. Vale’s face was ashy-gray, and he swayed almost imperceptibly as he peered at the plate of gammon. “You look like a pile of horseshit.”
“Most kind.” Vale swallowed. His gray face was taking on a greenish undertone. “I don’t believe I’ll have anything to eat just now.”
“Good idea.” Sam heaped buttered kidneys on his own plate. “Maybe some coffee?”
“No.” Vale closed his eyes for a second. “No. Just some barley water.”
“As you think best.” Sam called a footman over and asked for a glass of barley water.
Vale winced. “I think I’ll sit in the corner where it’s quiet.”
Sam smirked and piled two pieces of toast on his plate before following the other man to a small, round table. He ought to be sympathetic. The devils that plagued Vale were the same as his, although the symptoms they evoked were different.
“Have you seen Emmie this morning?” Vale asked as Sam sat across from him.
Sam looked down at his plate as he set it carefully on the table. “No.” God, he hated the familiarity of that nickname. He wanted to punch Vale each time he used it.
Vale smiled weakly. “’Fraid I was an ass to her last night.”
“Were you?” Sam stared at the other man, feeling hostility well in his chest. “She was with you?”
“Not for long.” Vale squinted. “At least I think not. I was a bit tight.”
Sam cut into the gammon in a vicious, controlled motion. Had Lady Emeline been in Vale’s rooms as well? Had she undressed him and readied him for bed? Cared for him with as much tenderness as she had Sam? He pushed too hard and his knife skidded across the plate with a screech, pushing the gammon onto the table.
“Whoops,” Vale said with an imbecilic smile.
Lady Emeline walked into the room.
