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“If you promise to rest, I’ll bring more to eat,” he said upon her return.
“Only if you promise to be careful.” She lowered her voice. “I heard that some were rounded up the other night, and I thought perhaps you were one of them.”
His pulse throbbed. “Who was rounded up?”
“Some of the whores,” she whispered.
He swallowed roughly. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before with his own eyes, but now that he knew more about the constable, it worried him.
Perhaps the bread in his belly would keep for another day.
But Agnes’s cough shook him out of his thoughts and helped him refocus. He needed to make sure she had enough sustenance and didn’t catch a chill. Besides, staying put would be poor planning on his part. It was smarter to have more than less, in case nothing panned out, especially given the weather.
Before he could second-guess himself, he promised Agnes he would be careful and went on his way.
He passed the gambling hall, wishing he had enough money to try his luck again. He’d won on his first attempt in another town, then lost it all the next round. No, it was too risky. The only thing he could count on for decent coin was to allow a gentleman to have his way with him.
He avoided the first tavern he came across, his stomach revolting at the memory of that cruel man. He settled outside a different establishment, standing so long near the entrance to the narrow alleyway that his knees ached and his toes went numb. He was sure he would soon be shuffled along for loitering, either by the owner or the authorities, and he certainly didn’t want to chance that.
Except finally, he caught a gentleman’s eye as he stopped to adjust his hat.
“Are you a beggar?” he asked, looking him over.
“If that’s what you wish me to be,” Galen replied coyly. It was a risk, especially if he was wrong about the man’s intentions. But if the man was going to take the bait, that was sure to do it.
The gentleman looked both ways, then stepped farther inside the passage. Galen had been in this very situation too many times not to recognize what was about to transpire, so he wordlessly followed him. When the man settled in the shadows against the brick wall, Galen knew he’d guessed right.
“Beg now—to handle my prick,” the man said gruffly as his fingers worked on unbuttoning his placket. “And hurry, before we’re found out.”
Galen knew how to make haste particularly well. He gripped the man and stroked him in a tightened fist, and once done, Galen felt relief when the man upheld his end of the bargain.
Chapter 14
The dreadful weather persisted for days, with only short breaks from the rain. He didn’t think he would find any success in town, but tried nonetheless. Not only for his sake, but for Agnes’s too. He’d kept watch over her and shared his food anytime he was able. Her color was better, but her cough persisted, even though she assured him it was only seasonal.
He perched himself near the gambling hall, hoping his luck would change. And no doubt, the men inside did as well. What else would drag them out in such conditions? He’d witnessed gentlemen being escorted from the establishment for incurring debt, and he could feel some sympathy for them—or at least for their quiet desperation. One time a man dressed in an expensive topcoat had tossed him a coin instead of snubbing his nose, likely feeling generous about his winnings. But tonight, the weather was too unfavorable for anyone to even notice him in the alleyway.
He’d stayed true to his promise to be careful, paying better attention to the energy emanating from people, but in times like these it was difficult to be too choosy. Thankfully, the gentleman who’d waved him into his carriage yesterday for a short, clandestine ride had an aura that nearly rivaled the twins’.
He could’ve used some of their golden rays after so many cold and rainy nights…
He leaned his head against the stone wall, briefly shutting his eyes and focusing on his dream of touring the countryside. This time he imagined a companion beside him, whispering close to his ear, providing him warmth. He pretended it wasn’t anyone familiar to him, but he knew better. It was dangerous to think about them—about him—but sometimes the memories were the only thing that kept him going in his loneliest moments.
Hours went by without any luck, so he decided to take his leave, hoping that Agnes had fared better with her tin can. He suspected the weather would be a factor regardless, and they would have to make do with the final bites of the block of cheese and dried meat he’d been able to obtain after that carriage ride.
