Page 34 of A Gathering Storm

“What?”

“I wish there was a quick way of re-creating all the conditions I experienced on theArchimedes. To see if you sense anything at all.”

Nicholas considered that. “One big storm,” he said. “I see that. You could ascertain once and for all whether I’ll be any use to you. Save yourself some time.”

Ward glanced up quickly. “I didn’t mean that.”

Nicholas smiled. “I’m not offended.”

But Ward wasn’t sure that was true. He thought Nicholas looked sad.

“Anyway,” Nicholas said, more briskly, “you might get one soon. They come in off the sea all year round.”

“The chances of one conveniently arriving on a Sunday aren’t very high,” Ward pointed out dryly.

Nicholas regarded him. He was wearing his smile-frown, Ward’s favourite of all his expressions, especially this particular one with the emphasis firmly on the smile, and only the tiniest frown pleating his dark brows. This smile-frown was mostly pleasure, with only a very little bewilderment.

He said, “Are you trying to ask me something? If so, I’d rather you just came out and said it.”

Ward sighed. He’d been hoping Nicholas would take the hint graciously but apparently Ward was going to be forced to give voice to his wishes.

“Would you be willing to come here if there was a storm?” he asked. “Even if it was not on one of our Sundays?”

Nicholas said, “Well, it’s nice that you posed it as a question this time.”

Ward flushed. He couldn’t think how to respond to that. They hadn’t spoken of how Nicholas had been persuaded to assist Ward since that very first day, but each time Nicholas came to Varhak Manor, it felt to Ward that he’d thawed a little more, making it a little easier for Ward to forget how this had started. Until now, that was, when Ward was forced to recognise that their bad beginning still lingered between them, like a sore that wouldn’t heal.

He was about to apologise and withdraw his question, when Nicholas sighed and said, “How about this? If I feel a storm coming, I will try to come up here. Other commitments allowing, you understand.”

Ward stared at him, astonished by his generosity. At last he said, his hoarse voice disguising the emotion that overwhelmed him, “Thank you. I appreciate that more than you could possibly know.”

Nicholas just nodded an acknowledgement and picked up his cutlery again, turning his attention back to his dinner.

After a while, he asked, “Have you managed to find any other subjects yet?”

“Not quite yet,” Ward said. “But I’ve corresponded with a gentleman in Truro, a Stephen Bryant, who claims to be a medium. He’s invited me to attend one of his séances in a fortnight’s time.”

Nicholas’s dark brows drew together in a small frown. “Are you going to go?”

“I may as well,” Ward said. “He appears to have a reasonable reputation from what I can make out. It’s worth investigating further, I think.”

Nicholas’s frown deepened. “Has he asked you to pay him?”

Ward opened his mouth to admit that he had—and that Ward had sent the money already—only to be struck by a sudden, awful realisation. Nicholas had now come to Varhak Manor on numerous occasions, and Ward hadn’t paid him so much as a halfpenny for his trouble. And after all his talk of paying handsomely too! Heat flushed up Ward’s neck and blazed from his cheeks.

Nicholas immediately noticed his agitation. “What’s wrong?” he said. Then, incredulously, “You haven’t already sent him money, have you?”

“I— Oh, hell, Nicholas—” Ward’s voice was breaking up even more than usual, as it was wont to do when he was feeling strong emotion, “I am—I ammortified. You must forgive me—” He stood up quickly and crossed the room to ring the bell for Pipp.

“For God’s sake, what’s wrong?” Nicholas looked alarmed now.

“The thing is, I get so taken up with things, so obsessed with my own interests, that I forget you see—” Ward was babbling now. He gave a groan of dismay.

“Forget what?”

“You must think me the worst sort of opportunist.”

“Opportunist? I don’t know what—”