“Ah yes! The American chap who fleeced you out of your favorite book, Vee!” The reverend beamed as if he hadn’t just been in the midst of a public disagreement with his wife and stuck out his hand. “Well done, young man! I’ve been trying to beat her for years, all to no avail, so I am glad somebody finally bested her.” For an old man, who if hiswife was to be believed was on the cusp of death, he had a very robust handshake. “I do hope you made her suffer in her defeat. Nobody deserves some time in gaming purgatory more than dear Vee here does.”
“That is hardly a Christian sentiment, Ignatius.” Mrs. Smythe rolled her eyes before she inclined her head. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sinclair. Please ignore my husband. Traveling always makes him disagreeable.”
“Whereas simply breathing makes my wife disagreeable.” The reverend tilted his neck to see past Gal. “Is there a Mrs. Sinclair we should also be introduced to?”
“Good grief, no!” While the denial came swiftly, Gal’s stupid eyes still gazed hungrily at Venus. “I’m as free as a bird, Reverend, and happy to be so.”
“Very wise, young man, for all women do is nag a man.”
It was Miss Venus this time who took him to task. “All women seem to nagyou, Reverend, which rather suggests the problem rests squarely on your shoulders as clearly there is something about your character and behavior that necessitates it.”
“And my point is proved,” said the reverend with a jolly smile on his face, “as now I am being nagged by the pair of them.”
Nelly directed her youngest son upstairs with the luggage before striding back toward her new guests. “Will you all be wanting dinner? We’ve a leg of lamb roasting, or there’s a pigeon pie or some beef stew that’ll warm your cockles on this cold evening.”
“The stew sounds perfect, doesn’t it, dear?” Mrs. Smythe answered for both of them.
“I’m about to eat myself if you’d like to join me for dinner?” The invitation came out of the blue, because Gal hadn’t even thought about food until now. He’d been too busy feeling miserable.
“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Sinclair, but we shall politely decline tonight.” Gal’s heart sank at the reverend’s words. “As much as it pains me to agree with my wife, I am not as young as I used to be and I am exhausted after such a long journey, so we shall eat in our rooms thenretire for the evening. But I am sure Vee will join you.” Instantly his poor heart sang again. “It is much too early for her to go to bed, and no doubt the pair of you have all sorts of family gossip you wish to catch up on without the chore of making polite conversation with two curmudgeonly septuagenarians.”
Put on the spot, she smiled. “That would be lovely… if you can spare me a little while to freshen up first?”
“Take all the time you need, Miss Venus, as I’m not going anywhere.”
She followed the Smythes upstairs and Gal found himself uncharacteristically nervous as Nelly laid his favorite table by the fire for two. Only part of that involved his dilemma about when to tell her his news, but as that seemed a safer thing to focus on than the butterflies currently flapping at the intimate prospect of spending an entire meal alone with her, he decided to give the problem his full attention.
When to tell her? How to tell her? Would it be better to save it until she had met with the solicitor and they both had something to celebrate…
He sensed her again before he saw her, so ended up watching her descend the narrow stairs transfixed with a strange tightness in his throat. Lord, she looked beautiful tonight. Even still wearing her sensible traveling dress. Sensible it might well be, but the deep blue brought out the color of her eyes and the soft wool clung to her curves in all the right places. The snow had left her hair damp, meaning the curls she tried so hard to tame were doing their own thing and wildly, the fat corkscrews bouncing in time with her naturally undulating motion. Her cheeks were deliciously rosy, exactly as he imagined they would be when flushed from passion…
“Put your tongue away and stand like a gentleman.” Nelly’s timely whisper was accompanied by a hard nudge moments before Miss Venus arrived at the table. “Can I tempt you with some wine, miss?”
“Er… yes.” She seemed nervous, too, as she sat opposite. “That would be nice.” As Nelly went off to fetch it and he sat, she thankfully filled the silence he had no clue how to. “As this is your stompingground and you recommended this place, what should I eat? The lamb, the pie, or the stew?”
“Always the lamb. Nelly’s daughter has a way with it, and the trimmings are divine. And the treacle pudding—” He closed his eyes as if in heaven. “—is as tempting as sin incarnate.” Much like her tonight. “Exactly what you need after what I suspect was an entertaining journey…”
Galahad was surprisingly good company throughout the excellent meal, but as they finished their desserts, Vee realized he had asked her so much about her life that she was no wiser about him than she had been before she sat down. Exactly as he had done to her last week in Piccadilly when she had queried something personal. He did that a lot, and with everyone now that she came to think upon it, not just her. Whenever a question was directed at him, he effortlessly batted it away with a brief or sometimes enigmatic answer, and before you knew it you were talking about yourself again. It felt imperative to immediately correct that.
Imperative to understand what made Galahad tick.
“When did you first discover The Mermaid?” She gestured around her to the capacious yet cozy room whose sedate patrons were made up of genteel travelers and regulars content to eat and chat the evening away. They were not at all the sort of people she would have assumed he would want to associate with. But then again, a week ago she wouldn’t have thought he was the sort to understand the dire motives of a young pickpocket, either. Everything she had wanted to believe and feel about Galahad had now been flipped on its head, making her… unbalanced… but in a good way. As if she were stood on the deck of a ship, bouncing across the waves, on the cusp of an adventure. It was as unnerving as it was thrilling, making her feel young and bold and, oddly, ripe for the picking.
“Around the same time as I washed up on these shores four years ago.”
As he didn’t elaborate further, she decided to pry some more, convinced that there were huge swaths of his life thus far that not even his cousin Giles was privy to—but that she now desperately needed to know. “And on that first visit, did you come to Brighton for business or pleasure?”
“A little of both.” He smiled at Nelly as she came to clear the plates bearing a steaming pot of tea and two cups. “Tell Mary that dinner was as delicious as usual.” There it was again. That instant deflection rather than allow anyone to see behind the curtain. Artful deception again, most definitely—but why?
“Is he always this cryptic and mysterious, Nelly?” If Galahad wouldn’t give her any answers, she would seek them elsewhere.
“I prefer to use the wordssecretiveandfrustrating.” The older woman pulled a face as she relieved Vee of her soiled napkin.
“Secretiveis an excellent descriptor, Nelly.” Vee poured the tea. “Do you know, I have known him for four years and yet know practically nothing about him at all.” She deposited his customary two sugars into his cup before sliding it across the table. “His business here in Brighton might as well be a state secret for all his family back in London know about it.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me, Miss Merriwell?” Nelly wiped the crumbs from the table then stood with her hands on her hips. “For I can honestly say the same about what he does in London.”
“Allow me to fill in some of your blanks, Nelly, for Galahad here owns a scandalous gaming hell in London’s docks called The Den, which I can only assume is short for The Den of Iniquity as that is what I am led to believe it is.”
