Page 93

Liar.

He’d suggested they walk to Bonkinbone’s townhouse not because it was only a few streets away, but because it would mean more time spent with her.

Before he lost her.

Georgia’s hold on his arm tightened momentarily. “I cannot imagine why there are not more people out here. Granted, it is the morning after what was likely heavy carousing. But it is a new year, and what better way to spend it than a stroll through a beautifully landscaped park? The holly bushes are lovely, are they not?”

He grunted, playing along with the effort to distract himself. “The red berries poking through the snow look—” He shrugged, knowing he was about to sound like an idiot. “Pretty. But aye, the carousing is likely the reason we’re no’ seeing anyone else.”

Her lips twitched as she kicked her way through the light dusting of snow which had fallen in the wee hours, blanketing everything in a sort of calming, dampening effect. ”Also, it is cold as—what was that rather colloquial phrase I heard Mrs. Kettel use last week?”

“Colder than a well-digger’s arse? Or as cold as Lapland cunny? Or colder than her mother-in-law’s heart? I’ve heard her use all of them.”

Georgia was trying to stifle her giggles. “Well, first of all: disgusting. Second of all, I never hear Mrs. Kettel speak of Mr. Kettel.”

Turdbiscuits, bantering with her made the band around his chest ease a bit. Made it easier to forget he was about to lose her. “That’s because we’ve learned—like Bruno—it’s just easier no’ to talk about him. She lost him about ten years ago.”

“Oh dear. How did he die, if you do not mind talking about it?”

Demon was squinting at something in the distance. “He didnae die, she just lost him. He went into Banchot one day for cigars, and never came back. I suspect he jumped on a train to get away from her superstitions.”

“She has always been that way?”

“At the time, I believe she was insisting he keep his beard shaved because—and I quote—banshees roost in facial hair. Do ye see that woman over there?”

Georgia, who’d been giggling at the description of Mr. Kettel, lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the morning sun. “The one hiding behind that rather fine example of a bilberry bush?”

Of course she’d noticed the plant. Although how she could tell what it was without the leaves was a mystery to him. “Aye, that one.” As if there was another woman crouched behind one of the bushes this early on Hogmanay. “Looks like she’s studying…a tripod?”

Georgia sucked in a breath. Then, thanks to the cold air, began to cough. He turned and placed his hand on her upper back, trying to simultaneously comfort her and warm her, although he suspected the heavy coat and ridiculous bonnet she wore were cozy enough.

“Want me to chase her off?” Demon asked, concerned. “These Londoners, they’re odd!”

The expression of horror she turned on him was almost comical. “You cannot chase her off. She has a right to enjoy the park as well!”

“No’ if she’s going to cause my-my”—Christ, ye cannae call her mistress—“ye to choke on yer own spit.”

“Yes, she can. If I choke it is my own fau—I cannot believe we are having this conversation!” She waved him off. “I was merely surprised to see her. Unless I am mistaken, that is Felicity.”

Since Georgia was already marching determinedly down the path, Demon had no choice but to follow.

“Felicity?” he prompted.

“A friend. One of my few friends, actually. She is a few years older, rather shy, but delightfully witty when she allows you close. Try not to scare her,” she commanded over her shoulder.

“I cannae help it,” he growled, shoving his gloved hands under his arms and trying not to sulk. “One look at me—”

“I meant try not to scare her with your scowls, Demon.” Her smile was exasperated. “Be nice.”

Then she winked, and damned if he didn’t stop scowling.

“Felicity?” she called as she drew closer. “Is that you, dear?”

The woman—who had indeed been crouched behind a tripod, pointed at the almost-nude bilberry bush—straightened and squinted at them.

Georgia was smiling, almost bouncing with excitement, as they neared. “Felicity, whatever are you doing out this early?”

Frowning slightly, the woman had patted about her chest until she’d found a pair of spectacles hanging from a chain. She put them on, blinked at Georgia for a moment, then broke into a relieved grin.