Page 10 of Restored
“Mr. Sharp—”
“I know what you’re going to say,” Sharp interrupted. “But I don’t believe for one moment that you have to spendeveryevening at Redford’s—and even if you do, there is nothing to stop you taking an early supper with me oneevening before you go to the club, is there?”
Kit sighed. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally.
“Friday then.”
“I only said I’llthinkabout it.”
“All right,” Sharp agreed easily. They had reached the end of the alleyway now, and emerged together onto the main street. “Let’s speak again in a few days.”
Kit sighed. “Very well, but I warn you: you should not expect to receive a different answer.”
Sharp only grinned that sharp-toothed grin again. “I’ll call on you,” he promised, and then he was walking away, swinging his cane and whistling as he went.
And since Kit was only human, he could not help but notice how very fine the man's arse was.
As Kit made his way home, he found himself mulling over Sharp’s words.
I don’t believe for one moment that you have to spend every evening at Redford’s.
Whatever the man’s real reason might be for pursuing Kit, he was right about that much.
When Kit had first opened Redford’s, he’d relished spending his evenings there. Of course, he’d only lived upstairs at the time, but it wasn’t just for convenience. He’d been making the place his own, stamping it with his character, as surely as he’d covered the walls of the card rooms in that damned expensive Chinese dragon wallpaper he’d liked so much.
The truth was, he’d loved finally having something all of his own. Until he’d opened Redford’s, Kit’s existence had centred solely around satisfying the whims of others, with all the unsettling potential for sudden change such an existence entailed. It was a life that had left him with an insatiable hunger for some solid, unchanging foundation in his life.
Redford’s had provided that foundation.
Lately, though, his single-minded devotion to the place had begun to wane. Perhaps it was partly because, over the last several years, he had become much more financially comfortable. He’d finally paid off a sizeable loan he’d taken on when he’d opened the club, and several investments he’d made had done very well indeed. He now had a nice cushion of capital that was enough to provide a comfortable income on its own, quite aside from Redford’s.
Moreover, since taking Clara on, he didn’t have to be such a constant presence at the club. It had taken him some time to let go his iron grip on every detail of the business, but slowly, gradually, he was getting there. In the last year, as he had begun to lean more heavily on Clara, he had discovered he had time again. Time to visit old friends. Time to go walking in his favourite spots—down by the Serpentine and around Green Park, even all the way up to Hampstead Heath a time or two.
He’d begun to secretly draw a little, carrying little notebooks and pencils with him that he’d pull out when he sat down by the river or under a tree to idly sketch whatever little things he might spot: a simple flower, a horse chestnut bristling out of its prickly coat, a waterfowl floating docilely down the river.
The annoying thing was that, the more time he had to himself, the more time he wanted. He’d even found himself wondering whether he needed to attend Redford’s as often as he did in the evenings—something he’d once considered vital, reasoning that his members needed to see him to trust him.
Kit was so deep in his thoughts, he didn’t realise he’d arrived home.
The door swung open before he could so much as place a finger upon it, and Tom stood in the doorway, grinning. Six foot one inch of pure muscle, his teeth flashing white, his perfect smile only very faintly marred—or perhaps perfected—by the slight crookedness of his left front tooth.
“What d’ye think, guv?” he asked Kit, blue eyes sparkling.
Kit blinked at him, not understanding. “What do I think of what?”
Tom huffed in exasperation. “The new livery!” he exclaimed, gesturing at the ensemble gracing his form: midnight-blue coat and breeches trimmed with dark-gold braid and large gold buttons.
“Oh, of course!” Kit said, stepping back to admire him more fully. “Oh, yes, Tom, that’s very handsome indeed. The dark blue is wonderful with your eyes.” He stepped forward to pat the lapel of the coat, then smiled. “Now you look the part.”
“I reckon so,” Tom said, standing aside to let Kit enter, then closing the door after them and following Kit into the hall. “Give me your hat, guv.”
Kit cocked a brow at him. “Give me your hat, guv?Hmm. You’ve a bit of work to do before I can say you’re acting the part.” He took his hat off and handed it to Tom. “Are you really sure you want to do this footman lark?”
Tom flushed slightly. “Course I do.” he said. “Standing around looking handsome is right up my street—don’t need no brains for it, do I? I know I forgot to talk right when you come in just now, but that’s just on account of me getting a bit giddy over my new garb.” He cleared his throat decisively, then added in a quieter and more polished voice, “May I take your hat, sir?”
Kit quirked a smile. “That’s much better, but for the record, I disagree with you on the brains bit. Clara and I have rumbled you—you’re very quick.”
Tom flushed with pleasure. “I don’t know about that, but don’t worry—if it’s true, I can hide it.”