Page 87 of The Devil in Oxford
He let out a low laugh. “I have my ways, lass, you know that. Now tell me, how is young Kivell these days?” Mr. Owen came to his knees, using a heavy chair to pull himself up to standing. He stretched, rubbing at the base of his spine before sitting down. Oneof the kittens took the opportunity to climb up his trouser leg onto his lap before continuing up to his shoulder.
“Ruan is…” I wasn’t surewhathe was, but he certainly wasn’t himself. He was quieter, more withdrawn. He wasn’t sullen or angry—it wasn’t like that at all. But something had shifted inside him and I was not sure if I could reach him anymore—at least, not in the way I had before.
He frowned, seeing my answer all over my face. “I suspected as much with what happened in Oxford. The lad’s been surrounded by people but he’s been alone his entire life. No one ever understood him, no matter how much they might care for him. Then for him to lose Ernst like that—his first true friend—and for Laurent to do such a horrible thing. It would only make sense the lad would be melancholy.”
Melancholywas one way to put it. I exhaled, hugging the large book to my chest, drawing strength from the tome.
“Why didn’t you stay with him? If you need more time, I can take on another girl to help me around here. I am partial toyouof course, but I can make do with another if I must. Maybe I could convince my progeny to come home at last to help a doddering old man and his growing herd of cats.”
My chest trembled at the thought. I was still growing accustomed to the fact Mr. Owenhada living descendent—until a few months ago, neither of us were aware he had a daughter—though I hadn’t seen her since we parted ways in Scotland back in October. “Have you heard from her?”
Mr. Owen waved me off. “The lass wrote me for the holidays. Was thinking of coming to visit in the new year. Enough about me. Tell me, why aren’t you still in Cornwall with your pellar?”
I wet my lips, hesitating. “He… Nellie Smythe’s babies came early. Do you recall her from Lothlel Green? She’s living at Penryth Hall now. She had twins, you see, and Ruan is staying up at the house until Nellie is well enough and he’s certain the twins aresafe. I thought I’d come home for a few days.” That, and I could not bear being alone with my own thoughts on the windswept Cornish cliffs. Nor did I particularly want to spend more time than necessary at Penryth Hall. Ruan offered to let me join him there, but the old manor house carried far more ghosts than I cared to revisit. Even Mrs. Penrose fled that place at the first opportunity.
Mr. Owen furrowed his brow. “The lad needs you—you know that, don’t you?”
I did. I needed him too, but I sensed that our path was not meant to be simple or easy. And we’d traverse it as we would, and it would do neither of us good to be caught up in the other and give up our own lives. Not when he was utterly vital to his people. But how would I ever explain that to Mr. Owen? To Mr. Owen there were no insurmountable burdens, no impediments to love except for death—and even that was negotiable.
The bell at the door rang, interrupting my thoughts.
“We’re in the back,” I called, pulling the curtain aside, still clutching the ancient text to my belly. Fiachna followed me out along with one of his two kittens.
A young messenger stood there by the front desk, eyes wide as he looked up at the books towering above him. I understood the sentiment. This place was magical. The first time I set foot inside the seventeenth-century walls of the bookshop I fell in love, and that hadn’t changed much over the last several years—no matter the trouble Mr. Owen had gotten me into.
“Can I help you?”
“Are you Ruby Vaughn?” the boy asked.
I laid the book on the countertop, and huffed my hair from my eyes. “I am.”
He thrust a telegram in my hand. I rummaged in my pocket for some coins and dropped them into his gloved fist. “Thank you.”
He mumbled out a polite acknowledgment as he hurried out and back on his way.
“Who was that, my love?” Mr. Owen stepped out of the dusty storeroom, the second pint-sized kitten still perched upon his shoulder.
“Just a boy…” I said absently and opened the telegram, heart sinking as I read the words.
I’VE NEWS OF THE IMPOSTER AND YOUR MOTHER. AT LEAST I THINK I HAVE. COME TO LONDON AT ONCE. HARI.
I drew in a shaky breath and looked up at Mr. Owen. “It seems I’m going on another adventure.”
“Shall I get my coat?”
I let out a laugh and threw my arms around him, kitten and all. Whatever it was I’d find, wherever it was I’d go, like the tide to the shores, I knew I would always return home.