Page 24 of A Gathering Storm

“Have you met them?”

Nicholas shook his head. “They shunned Ma when she ran off with Jacob Roscarrock.” Then, sounding almost wistful, he added, “I’ve been thinking about tracking them down. My mother wanted me to go to them once she was gone. She worried about me being alone.”

“It can’t have been easy for her,” Ward said. “A lone woman with an illegitimate child.”

Nicholas shrugged. “We were protected to some extent by the connection with the Roscarrocks. At least, no one in the village was blatantly hostile to us. Oh, there were always snide remarks, and I was forever getting into fights with the village boys, especially Jed, when he called my mother a whore.”

Ward winced. Children could be cruel.

“And of course, people were wary of her because she was Romany and they thought she might put a curse on them. But that was also what brought them to her door—because they thought she could speak to dead people, and make love potions, and tell them their futures. And they would pay her a few pennies for that. It helped us get by.”

“They thought she could speak to dead people . . .”

Did Nicholas believe his mother could do those things? Ward wanted to ask him, but that really would be an impertinent question and he’d asked enough of those today, so with some difficulty, he quelled the urge.

“Is that the time?” Nicholas said suddenly, sitting forward, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall.

Ward looked over his shoulder, noting with surprise that it was after five already.

“Goodness, I hadn’t realised how late it was. You must be starving! We had no luncheon. Would you care for something to eat now?”

Nicholas got to his feet. “Thank you, but—”

“Really, you must let me call for something. I’ll be wretched if you don’t let me feed you after such a long day.”

“Sir Edward, I—”

“Come now, you’re not allowed to call me that anymore,” Ward interrupted, holding up his hand. “We agreed. If I’m calling you Nicholas, you have to do likewise and call me Ward.”

“‘Ward’?”

“Short for Edward,” Ward explained. “Edward was my father’s name, so I got Ward.”

“I see,” Nicholas said slowly, as though he wasn’t quite sure what that had to do with anything. “Well, I’ll try to remember. In the meantime, I’d best get back. I left my dog at home to fend for himself today. He’ll be getting anxious.”

Ward remembered the one-eyed creature that had been with Nicholas in their previous encounters. “This is your white bulldog, I take it?” he said, as he too rose from his chair. “What’s his name?”

“Snowflake. Snow for short.”

“Do you generally have him with you?”

“Always,” Nicholas said. “He doesn’t do well alone. He was badly mistreated before I got him.”

“Well,” Ward said impulsively, “when you come back next Sunday, bring him along. There’s no need to leave him at home when he could be here with you. I certainly have no objection.”

Nicholas looked surprised, and for an instant, a faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, till he suppressed it. He cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said stiffly. “That would be . . . helpful. Snow’s wretched when he’s without me.”

“All right then,” Ward said, meeting his gaze. “That’s settled. And perhaps next week you will stay for dinner, since you are bringing Master Snowflake?”

To Ward’s amazement, Nicholas actually chuckled at that. “Master Snowflake? He’s a dog you know, not a child.”

Ward flushed, but he didn’t mind the teasing at all. He was just relieved that Nicholas, who had seemed so distant and cool when he first arrived today, had unbent so much as to make a joke at his expense.

It was only once Nicholas was gone that he realised that Nicholas hadn’t answered his question about staying for dinner next week. Or yet uttered Ward’s name.

“You haven’t touched your dinner, Master Edward.”

Ward looked up from the journal he’d been writing in. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Pipp,” he said, but he spoke without heat. He well knew he would always beMaster Edwardto Pipp, at least in private. It was the name by which the family servants had called him when he was a sickly boy and Pipp, then a footman, had been assigned as Ward’s personal servant. Now Pipp was—Well, Ward wasn’t sure there was a name for what Pipp was. Part butler, part secretary, occasionally part nanny to Ward’s irritation. Pipp’s role in Ward’s household was beyond the usual master and servant one, though they went through the motions of Ward pretending to give instructions and Pipp pretending to follow them.