Page 37 of The Fulbourn: Pitch & Sickle
He exhaled, delighting in being a very naughty boy.Mother would be furious.If he was lucky. This surreptitious trip to Cambridge satisfied his need to rebel, in some small form, against the stifling shackles of his life. It was a teensy bit foolish to go off without a word. But he and Silas had been sent out alone many times before this. And if the Morrigan had harboured any interest in the lieutenant after Pitch left him naked and tender at the Moon Inn, they had had more than enough time to show it.
‘I asked about the Fulbourn.’ Silas buttoned his coat against the icy evening. ‘It turns out it is not in town but rather just outside it, twenty minutes ride at most. Visitors are allowed entry from about ten in the morning.’
Pitch rubbed at the dust of sleep that had gathered around the edges of his eyes. ‘I hope you were discreet.’
‘Very much so. I inquired with the mother of the child, and she was far too distracted by her infant to recall a single word. I doubt she even heard me say my name –’
‘Mr Bellingham, Mr Bellingham!’ A woman waved at them. She was dressed in a precisely cut blue gown with a fur stole around her shoulders. The child that balanced on her hip wore a tiny replica of her mother’s dress. She was a young fae, just as Silas had correctly surmised with his newfound lack of stupidity in these matters. The babe was several years old perhaps. Pitch neither knew nor cared to know how to assess such things. It had hair white as fresh snow, and it was small and had unusual eyes, mostly olive green but with a very defined ring of amber around the pupils. And they were set on Silas.
‘I’m so glad I caught you.’ The woman glanced at Pitch, and her eyes widened. ‘Mrs Bellingham, gracious me, you are a vision just as your husband said. I have to say, you have caught quite the special man in this one. I’m Nancy Erwood, by the way. Miss…Nancy Erwood.’ Her gaze lingered on Pitch, searching, he suspected, for hint of his reaction to her title. One no reputable woman with a child should hold.
‘Lovely to meet you, Miss Erwood.’
Her smile came alive, pushing up full cheeks towards eyes of a brown so deep they’d appear black if the lighting was any dimmer. She tilted her head at Silas. ‘He was a true marvel. There are very few who would have been so patient and helped me as he did. I was beside myself when Tilly wouldn’t settle. She’s been unwell, you see…’ A shadow flickered across her face. ‘But she took such a shine to your husband. I’ve not seen her react to a stranger that way before…and I’m afraid he got lumped with cradling her for half the journey, as she insisted on clambering into his lap. I don’t know what your secret is, Mr Bellingham, but I am in your debt. Tilly hasn’t slept that soundly in months.’ The child’s gaze swept between Silas and Pitch, one hand playing with the pink ribbon that tied up its hair. ‘Do you have anywhere to stay this evening? I assume you are not heading out to the Fulbourn at this hour to see your cousin, Mrs Bellingham?’ Pitch slid a glance at Silas, who steadfastly avoided his gaze, waggling his fingers at the dribbling child instead. ‘I’m terribly sorry…it must be ever so awful to have someone you love so unwell. I heard your trip was decided at the very last minute. Were you able to book accommodations? I should have asked before now, I’m sorry. I am just so bloody tired.’ Her eyes widened, fixing on Pitch. ‘Oh, I apologise for my –’
‘Your bloody language?’ he returned. ‘It’s damned awful.’
Miss Erwood’s laughter came from deep beneath very full breasts that gave her jacket a decent test. ‘Oh, you are a wonderful pair. I’d offer you rooms at my establishment, but the Crimson Bow is not considered proper by many. I wouldn’t like to put you in an awkward position.’
Pitch’s ears perked. ‘I’m partial to an awkward position, I assure you.’ Gods, let it be terribly so. For practical as well as fanciful purposes, of course. Lodging at a house of ill-repute would render them far more invisible than if they were to stay at a fancy hotel. Pitch swept in and clasped her arm. ‘How improper are we talking?’
He did not hold back his eagerness. Miss Erwood seemed amused by his enthusiasm. Silas, though, was too busy poking the tip of his finger into a tiny cupped palm, playing some silly game with the cooing child, who had nothing better to say thanmore, more.
‘Well,’ Miss Erwood said slowly. ‘The entertainment we offer is not to all tastes. Some might call it vulgar, but I think it’s rather beautiful. I reside upstairs with Tilly.’ A notable pause. ‘And my good friend, Adamaris.’
‘Vulgar and beautiful sounds positively wonderful.’
He thought himself an able judge of character. With so much of his time spent bringing forth the purebreds’ deepest desires, he tended to see through their layers well. And he liked this woman. She was irreverent, unconventional, and not averse to dirtying her mouth. She was raising the child as her own and doing so without a ring on her finger. Whether she’d borne a child of her own before the switch was done or had simply taken in an orphaned mewling babe, he did not know, but either way she tilted her nose at society’s expectation of her.
‘Does it have dancing?’ he pressed. He’d not yet given up on his idea of twirling Silas about a dance floor, willing ankou or not.
‘There is definitely champagne…and dancing, yes.’
Nancy was still hesitant. Unsure she was reading his signals right, most likely. But he adored her little club already, whether it be a brothel or gambling den or the last of the molly houses, he did not care.
‘But perhaps the dancing is not the kind you and your husband would –’
‘Shall we see tits?’ Pitch’s whisper was stage-worthy. ‘Or better yet, a phallus or two?’
‘Pitch!’ Silas hovered his hands over the child’s ears. ‘Dear god, mind your manners.’
But Miss Erwood had a broad smile for Mrs Bellingham now. ‘I see I have misjudged you,’ she said. ‘There is a strong possibility you shall see some of each. I think you would like the Crimson Bow very much, and I dare say it would like you.’
‘I dare say.’ Pitch winked.
Nancy laughed, and the child on her hip slapped its small, meaty hands together. The fae’s intent gaze darted from Pitch to Silas in quick succession. A littletoointently for Pitch’s liking, with the lingering worry of the demise of the elixir. But the child still pissed in its bloomers, it was hardly about to pose a threat. The ankou made the most ridiculous face at the little one and poked out his tongue. The resulting juvenile peals of laughter scratched at Pitch’s ears.
He stared at Silas, who was beaming at having been responsible for such a racket. How many drinks had the blasted fellow had on that train journey? He must be sozzled out of his mind to find the child’s squeals so pleasing.
‘If you would like to come and see for yourself,’ Miss Erwood was saying, ‘the offer stands if you’d like to stay, but I will not be insulted if you decide otherwise. I am happy to call a few hotels for you. At the very least, if you’re not too tired, come and have some drinks on the house as a thank you.’
‘What say you, Mrs Bellingham?’ Silas smiled. ‘Are we too tired?’
Gods, the ankou looked happy, beaming like that at his unwomanly wife. He radiated an odd contentment and just looking at him warmed Pitch between the legs, making him stiff beneath the skirts.
Well, fuck the quest a moment longer, then. Let the silly fantasy return.
‘Tired?’ he said. ‘Not in the least, my dear.’