Downtime by Tamara Allen Page B

off as Jem latched firmly on to his arm and pushed him out ahead through the doorway.
     
    “We should be on our way as well.” Apprehension strained Ezra’s voice. I looked at him to see him staring down into his empty cup. He reluctantly met my eyes and I saw the apology there. “The assumptions they made, Mr. Nash….” He shook his head. “I’m grateful to you for not—”
     
    “Punching them in the nose?” He was squirming, but I couldn’t resist.
     
    He grimaced. “I am sorry.”
     
    “Hey, come on. I was joking. Anyway, their assumptions are not your fault. Just forget about it.”
     
    It wasn’t the response he expected, judging by the bewildered expression on his face. “You aren’t insulted?”
     
    “Should I be?” I gave him a grin. “Hell, in a way, I’m flattered.”
     
    I sure didn’t seem to be doing anything to relieve his confusion. “Flattered,” he murmured, as if the word made no sense in the context of our conversation. “But—you knew already, then?”
     
    “Ezra, you flirted with me almost the instant I got here.”
     
    His cheeks colored. “If I’ve made you uncomfortable—”
     
    “Doesn’t bother me.”
     
    “It doesn’t?”
     
    Time to perfect my own subject-changing skills. “So what do you say? Stonehenge?”
     
    At his horrified look, I swallowed a grin. Sending me back home was going to be a relief for us both.
     

Chapter 6

     

     
    We didn’t visit the big rocks, instead hiring a carriage to ride around town the next couple of hours. We ended up in what Ezra called “The Row,” where we came across a slew of bookstalls. Though not something I normally gravitated to on vacation, I now had a little more incentive to browse the stacks. Ezra was apparently in his own personal heaven. I had to pull his nose out of more than one book to keep him focused on what we were searching for. Some of the books were damned old, even for 1888, and I started out optimistic; but there were so many books so haphazardly sorted, it would take weeks to locate one particular book in all the mess.
     
    One by one, the shops closed and we headed, dusty and tired, back to the house. Late for supper, we were ushered into the dining room, to a table draped with crisp linen and sparkling with silver. Kathleen introduced Mr. Cotton and Mr. Tenpenny to me in such a way that I was not sure which was which. They were both rather nondescript middle-aged men in dark suits, with a demeanor that reminded me of the more humorless higher-ups at the Bureau.
     
    If anyone was put out at our tardiness, any sign of it was buried by the curiosity in the glances that came our way. Derry was the one who finally asked, and since I knew the question was for Ezra, I left it to him and progressed through a plateful of fried potatoes and strips of beef smothered in gravy. Kathleen was going to put her boarders in an early grave, but at least they’d die full and happy.
     
    “Yes, indeed, we went to Newgate. Some bread, Mr. Nash?” Ezra offered me a covered basket and I plucked out a warm slice. “We worked up something of an appetite in the process.”
     
    I knew that was directed at me. Mouth full, I just threw him a look and kept eating. He tried to suppress a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “We searched a few bookstalls afterward—”
     
    “Hold a moment,” Derry said in exasperation. “Newgate?”
     
    “I got through without any difficulty. No need to worry.” Ezra shot me an impish glance. “Mr. Nash assisted.”
     
    Kathleen evidently had a sixth sense herself, because she looked at me suspiciously before she asked how many more nights I thought I might be staying. Ezra answered for me. “He should be leaving tomorrow, with any luck.”
     
    Dr. Gilbride, who’d been nodding off over his meal, looked at me. “Outstay your welcome, Mr. Nash?” It was a joking tone and I managed to smile.
     
    “Usually within the first five minutes.” I put down my