Charlie.”
“Shit.”
Badgeman gave his crooked half smile. “Sums it up, sir. So now you understand. I gotta go.”
Alan nodded. “I'll have Jem pack my things as soon as we—”
“No, sir. Not you. I were the one that promised Charlie. 'Tis not your affair. 'Tis my failure, and I must make the remedy.”
“Sergeant!” Alan barked the word from their past life. “Cutler was under my command. The fate of his family is my concern. You will allow me to help you.”
Apparently his discipline had broken down entirely since army days, for instead of instantly obeying, Badgeman only shook his head. “No, sir.”
“And why not?”
Badgeman glared back, but eventually his gaze dropped. “He has her legally, sir.”
“And you plan on taking illegal action?” Alan swore again.
“I'll do what must be done. With all due respect sir, I do not want you there.” The servant's quiet voice was apologetic but firm. His accent had vanished again, so he was in control.
Alan gave up. No doubt Badgeman was right to put him off. Alan no longer wallowed in miserable self-pity most of his days and nights, yet he was still weak and hadn't ridden more than a mile on horseback for over a year—he'd be a greater nuisance than help. “I'll fund your journey.”
“It's not necessary, sir. I have the funds saved.”
“Damn you, Badgeman, you must learn to compromise. I shan't insist on going with you, and that's my concession. You will take my funds and stop your whimpering about it—that is yours. And as soon we return home, I'll consult a lawyer. There must be something to be done short of killing the bastard.”
Badgeman looked relieved. “Thank you. That'd be useful, sir. With your permission, sir, I'll start as soon as may be for Lisbon. That's where Ned saw that bastard surgeon.” He stopped pacing and thumped a hand against the carriage wheel. “Captain Watleigh, sir. Oh, no. Your household. Who'll run it when I'm gone?”
“Why me, o' course.” Jem appeared next to them. “No snuffbox, sir,” he told Alan with a wink. Alan had actually forgotten his existence for five whole minutes—for the first time since the man had entered his life.
“No need to glare like you'd love to tear me limb from limb, Mr. Badgeman.” Jem opened the carriage door and waited for Alan to enter. As he stood with a hand on the handle, he bowed to Badgeman. “'Twas a joke, I promise.”
“A poor one,” Badgeman muttered.
“I heard nothing much, Mr. B., if that's your worry. Only that you'll be traveling to a surgeon.”
Alan ignored Jem. He squeezed his ex-batman's upper arm as he passed him. “We'll miss you, Badgeman, but there's no need for you to worry. I promise the house shan't tumble down during your absence. And I will do what I can to help.”
Badgeman muttered his thanks, and Alan climbed in.
“I overheard more 'n I told the badger,” Jem said as he settled onto the seat next to Alan and the door closed behind them. Propriety dictated that he should have taken the seat across, with his back to the horses, but again Alan didn't say anything.
Jem cocked his head. “He's truly tearing off to foreign parts to kill some bastard?”
Alan considered telling him to mind his own business, then he noticed the glowing blue eyes showed more than curiosity. “Do you like Mr. Badgeman, Jem?”
“Him? That fearful, ugly devil? P'raps.” Jem leaned back in the seat and looked out the window as if wishing he hadn't displayed concern.
“It won't come to murder.” Alan spoke with more confidence than he felt.
Jem's attention seemed fixed on the scenery outside the coach, and Alan used the moment of his rare distraction to admire Jem's lean, muscular body. His hands, with their long, sensitive fingers, lay relaxed, splayed on his thighs. The light from the window gilded Jem's throat. The glow picked out his Adam's apple and then the lines in his cheek as a smile flashed across his face.
“Like what you see, sir?”
“Shit.”
Badgeman gave his crooked half smile. “Sums it up, sir. So now you understand. I gotta go.”
Alan nodded. “I'll have Jem pack my things as soon as we—”
“No, sir. Not you. I were the one that promised Charlie. 'Tis not your affair. 'Tis my failure, and I must make the remedy.”
“Sergeant!” Alan barked the word from their past life. “Cutler was under my command. The fate of his family is my concern. You will allow me to help you.”
Apparently his discipline had broken down entirely since army days, for instead of instantly obeying, Badgeman only shook his head. “No, sir.”
“And why not?”
Badgeman glared back, but eventually his gaze dropped. “He has her legally, sir.”
“And you plan on taking illegal action?” Alan swore again.
“I'll do what must be done. With all due respect sir, I do not want you there.” The servant's quiet voice was apologetic but firm. His accent had vanished again, so he was in control.
Alan gave up. No doubt Badgeman was right to put him off. Alan no longer wallowed in miserable self-pity most of his days and nights, yet he was still weak and hadn't ridden more than a mile on horseback for over a year—he'd be a greater nuisance than help. “I'll fund your journey.”
“It's not necessary, sir. I have the funds saved.”
“Damn you, Badgeman, you must learn to compromise. I shan't insist on going with you, and that's my concession. You will take my funds and stop your whimpering about it—that is yours. And as soon we return home, I'll consult a lawyer. There must be something to be done short of killing the bastard.”
Badgeman looked relieved. “Thank you. That'd be useful, sir. With your permission, sir, I'll start as soon as may be for Lisbon. That's where Ned saw that bastard surgeon.” He stopped pacing and thumped a hand against the carriage wheel. “Captain Watleigh, sir. Oh, no. Your household. Who'll run it when I'm gone?”
“Why me, o' course.” Jem appeared next to them. “No snuffbox, sir,” he told Alan with a wink. Alan had actually forgotten his existence for five whole minutes—for the first time since the man had entered his life.
“No need to glare like you'd love to tear me limb from limb, Mr. Badgeman.” Jem opened the carriage door and waited for Alan to enter. As he stood with a hand on the handle, he bowed to Badgeman. “'Twas a joke, I promise.”
“A poor one,” Badgeman muttered.
“I heard nothing much, Mr. B., if that's your worry. Only that you'll be traveling to a surgeon.”
Alan ignored Jem. He squeezed his ex-batman's upper arm as he passed him. “We'll miss you, Badgeman, but there's no need for you to worry. I promise the house shan't tumble down during your absence. And I will do what I can to help.”
Badgeman muttered his thanks, and Alan climbed in.
“I overheard more 'n I told the badger,” Jem said as he settled onto the seat next to Alan and the door closed behind them. Propriety dictated that he should have taken the seat across, with his back to the horses, but again Alan didn't say anything.
Jem cocked his head. “He's truly tearing off to foreign parts to kill some bastard?”
Alan considered telling him to mind his own business, then he noticed the glowing blue eyes showed more than curiosity. “Do you like Mr. Badgeman, Jem?”
“Him? That fearful, ugly devil? P'raps.” Jem leaned back in the seat and looked out the window as if wishing he hadn't displayed concern.
“It won't come to murder.” Alan spoke with more confidence than he felt.
Jem's attention seemed fixed on the scenery outside the coach, and Alan used the moment of his rare distraction to admire Jem's lean, muscular body. His hands, with their long, sensitive fingers, lay relaxed, splayed on his thighs. The light from the window gilded Jem's throat. The glow picked out his Adam's apple and then the lines in his cheek as a smile flashed across his face.
“Like what you see, sir?”
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