Page 35 of A Gathering Storm
Just then, Pipp opened the door. “You rang, sir?”
Ward turned to his servant, relieved. “Ah, Pipp, yes. I have just this moment realised, to my utter shame, that I have not yet paid Mr. Hearn for any of his time. Could you please bring me the household ledger and the wages box?”
“Very good, sir.”
“What?” Nicholas exclaimed, standing up so violently that his chair rocked on its back legs. Snowflake let out a little yelp of surprise and scrambled out of the way.
“I’ll just be a moment, sir,” Pipp said smoothly and withdrew, closing the door behind him with a quietsnick.
Ward turned to face Nicholas. To his surprise, the man looked furious.
“I never asked you for money,” Nicholas snapped. “I can’t believe you thought I was hinting about that when I asked if you’d sent money to that medium.”
“Nicholas, I didn’t intend to suggest—”
“If I’d wanted paying, I’d’ve come right out and said so,” Nicholas interrupted. His colour was up, his words pouring out, quick and bitter. “I’ve never asked you for anything, Ward!”
“Nicholas, please.” Ward’s voice was useless and tight, harsh when it should be pleading, no tone to it, no inflection. Nevertheless, he forced himself to go on. “I did not mean to insult you, but I promised you payment, and I do not want you to think I do not value your time!”
Nicholas wouldn’t meet his gaze. He stared at the door, chest heaving. Snowflake, sensing his master’s unhappiness, pressed his sturdy body against Nicholas’s calf and looked up at him, his single eye darting anxiously.
“Nicholas—” Ward said again, and winced. The name on his lips sounded like a scold, when he only meant it as a plea. He could have wept with frustration.
The door opened, and there was Pipp again. He held the household ledger in one hand and the cast-iron moneybox he paid the other servants’ wages from each week in the other.
“Go away!” Ward howled, and Pipp’s confused expression was almost funny, might even have made Ward laugh his awful toneless laugh on another day.
Pipp pressed his lips together in a firm line and snapped the door shut again. The click of his boot heels was audible as he marched back down the corridor.
There was a long silence, then Nicholas said flatly, “Well, you’ll be out of favour with Mr. Pipp after that outburst.”
His fury seemed to have abated. Still, Ward lifted the verbal olive branch with great care, offering a wary half smile as he replied, “You don’t know the half of it. Pipp may seem like an obedient servant to you, but he scolds me terribly when we’re alone.”
Nicholas shrugged. “I see more than you think. You’re like an old married couple, you and Mr. Pipp, smiling at each other through gritted teeth and thinking no one notices when you’re in a bad mood with one another.”
That observation was so unexpectedly astute, it startled a short bark of laughter out of Ward.
Nicholas raised a brow. “I surprise you?” he asked lightly. He gave a dry, humourless laugh, then added, “Perhaps I’m like a talking dog to you. Or a bearded lady?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You don’t expect me to notice things, do you? Or even to be interested—reallyinterested—in what you’re trying to achieve. In your eyes, I’m here because you ordered me to come—and for the money, of course. Just a Gypsy looking to fleece you.”
“That’s not fair,” Ward protested, hurt. “I don’t think that. I was only surprised you noticed how things are with Pipp and me becauseIwould never notice such a thing.”
Nicholas didn’t say anything to that, just watched Ward silently.
“As for the money,” Ward went on doggedly, “you can refuse to take it if you want. I can hardly force it upon you. But I promised at the outset to compensate you for your time, and to find myself in breach of that promise—well, I’m appalled at myself. Can’t you understand that?”
In that moment, Nicholas’s thin-lipped anger gave way to a pained expression that was ten times worse than his ire. “But I don’t want your money, Ward,” he said quietly. “That’s whatItoldyouat the outset.”
“I already have a position that pays me well enough . . .”
Ward’s gut twisted with belated comprehension. Nicholas had indeed said as much, and Ward had insulted him by treating him like a servant—on top of blackmailing him.
“Oh,” Ward said. He swallowed hard. “I’m—I’m sorry, Nicholas. I should have thought before I spoke.” When Nicholas remained silent, his gaze averted, Ward said, “I truly didn’t mean to offend you. Quite the opposite. I’m just hopeless at understanding other people, at least that’s what Pipp says.” He stepped closer, laying a hand on Nicholas’s forearm. “Please. Forgive me.”
Finally, Nicholas looked up and met his gaze. He sighed. “Youarehopeless at understanding people,” he agreed. “Which is shocking given how bright you are.”