yet to come. Nessie was very protective of their friendship, and having King around would cause quite a bit of friction, to say nothing of how Nessie viewed Mr. Adams as a good protector and would see King as a threat to that relationship, as well.
She needed to talk to Nessie about leaving, either with King or without him, but first she needed to get through to her dearest friend. Mr. Adams was like a stray dog you fed. He was getting a taste for using his fists and before long, that would be his answer to everything. If she couldn’t make Nessie see that, understand that pleasing him meant losing themselves—or their very lives—then she had a very difficult decision ahead of her. She would give herself until the end of the tournament to convince Nessie. That might not be when they ran, but if Lady couldn’t get through to Nessie by then, she never would.
Now Lady sat at the little table in their cozy kitchen, mending her frayed hems while Nessie made a stew from the leftover goose and crusty bread for tonight’s meal. No fights meant a blissful, quiet night. Christopher, the young boy who helped out, had been by earlier to fill the wood box, sweep and empty the basins and slop buckets, and received two fresh pastries for his efforts. When he appeared at the back door again, Nessie automatically went for more of the treats.
“Still hungry, eh, lad? I suspect you’ve got an empty leg down there, the way you can put away food.”
Christopher laughed and made a face. “Nah, I’s got a letter from Mr. Adams.”
Nessie smiled but Lady felt a hard pit develop in her stomach. A note was nothing unusual, but anything involving Mr. Adams now caused her a flare of panic before anything else. She took deep breaths as Nessie closed the door and handed her the note. Lady looked at it as though she could determine its contents from the outside. A little voice in her head said not to open it, pretend it had never arrived, but that would only make everything worse, so Lady broke the wax seal. She skimmed the contents and felt her spirits slump.
“What does he want?” Nessie went back to kneading the bread, still watching Lady’s face.
“Mr. Adams is having a party tonight at the Red Door for the gentlemen in town for the tournament. He wants me there to help out.”
“Help out?” Nessie raised an eyebrow.
“No, not that kind of help.” Lady stood, clutching her half-mended dress to her. “More like hostessing. Like he had me do for that party he threw for the ship’s officers, the ones who brought back his cargo three weeks early.”
“What do you need?”
She went and pressed a kiss to Nessie’s cheek. “Nothing, now. I’ll go upstairs and pick out a dress. The party doesn’t start until eight o’clock, so I don’t have to start getting ready until six.” She glanced down at the dough, flecks of rosemary speckling its surface, and sighed. “Looks like our dinner is off.”
“Nonsense.” Nessie steered her toward the stairs. “It’ll be lighter and earlier is all. Now you go, find something that makes you feel good and lie down for a bit. You’ll need your rest for tonight.”
Lady had started up the stairs when Nessie called after her, “Don’t forget the necklace. Mr. Adams is going to want to show both of you off.”
“Thank you, Nessie.” Lady smiled. She liked having somebody to fuss over her as much as Nessie liked fussing. Lady made it up two more stairs when Nessie called again.
“And don’t forget something with sleeves. Mr. Adams isn’t going to want you showing your arm, as well.”
“Thank you, Nessie.” They had to get out of here. King had to keep winning so Mr. Adams would keep buying her gifts. It was the only way. That or the grave.
Chapter Eight
King lay on his bed, hands clasped beneath his head, and sighed. He’d come home and spread out the blanket, a pattern of blue, green and brown blocks, all on a field of white. It certainly added color to his room, just
She needed to talk to Nessie about leaving, either with King or without him, but first she needed to get through to her dearest friend. Mr. Adams was like a stray dog you fed. He was getting a taste for using his fists and before long, that would be his answer to everything. If she couldn’t make Nessie see that, understand that pleasing him meant losing themselves—or their very lives—then she had a very difficult decision ahead of her. She would give herself until the end of the tournament to convince Nessie. That might not be when they ran, but if Lady couldn’t get through to Nessie by then, she never would.
Now Lady sat at the little table in their cozy kitchen, mending her frayed hems while Nessie made a stew from the leftover goose and crusty bread for tonight’s meal. No fights meant a blissful, quiet night. Christopher, the young boy who helped out, had been by earlier to fill the wood box, sweep and empty the basins and slop buckets, and received two fresh pastries for his efforts. When he appeared at the back door again, Nessie automatically went for more of the treats.
“Still hungry, eh, lad? I suspect you’ve got an empty leg down there, the way you can put away food.”
Christopher laughed and made a face. “Nah, I’s got a letter from Mr. Adams.”
Nessie smiled but Lady felt a hard pit develop in her stomach. A note was nothing unusual, but anything involving Mr. Adams now caused her a flare of panic before anything else. She took deep breaths as Nessie closed the door and handed her the note. Lady looked at it as though she could determine its contents from the outside. A little voice in her head said not to open it, pretend it had never arrived, but that would only make everything worse, so Lady broke the wax seal. She skimmed the contents and felt her spirits slump.
“What does he want?” Nessie went back to kneading the bread, still watching Lady’s face.
“Mr. Adams is having a party tonight at the Red Door for the gentlemen in town for the tournament. He wants me there to help out.”
“Help out?” Nessie raised an eyebrow.
“No, not that kind of help.” Lady stood, clutching her half-mended dress to her. “More like hostessing. Like he had me do for that party he threw for the ship’s officers, the ones who brought back his cargo three weeks early.”
“What do you need?”
She went and pressed a kiss to Nessie’s cheek. “Nothing, now. I’ll go upstairs and pick out a dress. The party doesn’t start until eight o’clock, so I don’t have to start getting ready until six.” She glanced down at the dough, flecks of rosemary speckling its surface, and sighed. “Looks like our dinner is off.”
“Nonsense.” Nessie steered her toward the stairs. “It’ll be lighter and earlier is all. Now you go, find something that makes you feel good and lie down for a bit. You’ll need your rest for tonight.”
Lady had started up the stairs when Nessie called after her, “Don’t forget the necklace. Mr. Adams is going to want to show both of you off.”
“Thank you, Nessie.” Lady smiled. She liked having somebody to fuss over her as much as Nessie liked fussing. Lady made it up two more stairs when Nessie called again.
“And don’t forget something with sleeves. Mr. Adams isn’t going to want you showing your arm, as well.”
“Thank you, Nessie.” They had to get out of here. King had to keep winning so Mr. Adams would keep buying her gifts. It was the only way. That or the grave.
Chapter Eight
King lay on his bed, hands clasped beneath his head, and sighed. He’d come home and spread out the blanket, a pattern of blue, green and brown blocks, all on a field of white. It certainly added color to his room, just
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