getting chosen. But I wish I had been!” he added eagerly.
“Ah, no, you don’t,” Nick muttered.
“ ’Course I do! It’s brilliant! You fellows are like . . . heroes or, or the gods of bloody Olympus! Well, the ladies seem to think so,” the boy jested.
Nick sent him a dark look, extremely irked by such outlandish praise, but Phillip was beaming with his fantasies of adventure, derring-do, and the admiration of pretty girls. “Where’s your mother?” he asked uncomfortably.
“Writing a letter to the headmaster. I got kicked out of school,” he added rather proudly.
“What for?”
Phillip’s chin came up a notch. “Thrashed a bully. Senior. He deserved it.”
He proceeded to tell him the story. Nick listened as he threw, finally nodding to admit he was impressed with the stand the kid had made against the cruel older bully and oppressive authority.
That simple nod seemed to make Phillip grow two inches taller right before his eyes. “So, what’s all this, then?” Phillip nodded at his throwing knives.
“Just practicing a bit.”
“Can I try?”
“Not sure your mother would approve—”
“I’m practically sixteen!” he protested.
Nick shrugged, remembering all the times Virgil had shown patience to him when he was that age. “All right. Here. No, not like that. Hold it here, by the base of the handle . . .”
Phillip threw a few times without much success, but his enthusiasm was undimmed as he ran and collected the knives when they landed.
“Wait. Look at me. Watch,” Nick ordered. “Smooth and steady. Bring it over your shoulder, steady with the left, and release. ”
Thwack!
The knife shuddered into the distant bull’s-eye.
“You’re way too good at this.”
“Years of practice.” He smiled. “I was worse than you when I first started. Keep working at it. You’ll get better.”
So he did, and thankfully managed not to slice his own hand off.
“I suppose I ought to ask you your intentions toward my mum,” the pup remarked at length, casting Nick a wary look askance before staring downrange again at the target, then throwing the blade just like Nick had shown him.
“I don’t have any,” he replied, startled. “I’m here to do a job, then I’m going to America.”
“Really? Why?” He stopped and turned to him, his auburn eyebrows arched high in surprise. “Do you have a mission there?”
“Hardly. I want to see the wilderness. Maybe stake out a claim west of the Allegheny Mountains.”
“But that’s Indian territory! Aren’t you worried you’ll get scalped?”
“No,” he answered in amusement.
Phillip pondered this. “But will you come back? You have a title. Don’t you already own some land in England?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t care about my title. You ask a lot of questions.”
“I think I have the right,” he shot back with startling impertinence, “considering you want to take my mother to London.”
“It’s not like that,” he said with a frown. “She’s the one taking me. Don’t worry, I have no designs on her. She’s far too good for me. I’m only helping her with a case.”
“Helping my mother?” Phillip echoed with a dubious stare. “The woman who never needs any help from anyone, especially from a man?”
Nick laughed. “Apparently, she’s in over her head on this one.”
Phillip instantly sobered. “Should I be worried?”
“I’ll take care of her,” Nick assured him.
The boy was silent for a moment. “Does this have to do with John Carr? She told me he went missing.”
“Yes, her assistant.” Nick looked askance at Phillip when he snorted in disgust.
“That weasel! Sickeningly in love with her. Maybe he finally gave up on her and went and hanged himself.” The boy shook his head. “I never trusted him.”
Nick weighed Phillip’s words uncertainly. “Well, your mother seems very concerned. We’re going to see if we can find out if he’s all right or if something’s happened to
“Ah, no, you don’t,” Nick muttered.
“ ’Course I do! It’s brilliant! You fellows are like . . . heroes or, or the gods of bloody Olympus! Well, the ladies seem to think so,” the boy jested.
Nick sent him a dark look, extremely irked by such outlandish praise, but Phillip was beaming with his fantasies of adventure, derring-do, and the admiration of pretty girls. “Where’s your mother?” he asked uncomfortably.
“Writing a letter to the headmaster. I got kicked out of school,” he added rather proudly.
“What for?”
Phillip’s chin came up a notch. “Thrashed a bully. Senior. He deserved it.”
He proceeded to tell him the story. Nick listened as he threw, finally nodding to admit he was impressed with the stand the kid had made against the cruel older bully and oppressive authority.
That simple nod seemed to make Phillip grow two inches taller right before his eyes. “So, what’s all this, then?” Phillip nodded at his throwing knives.
“Just practicing a bit.”
“Can I try?”
“Not sure your mother would approve—”
“I’m practically sixteen!” he protested.
Nick shrugged, remembering all the times Virgil had shown patience to him when he was that age. “All right. Here. No, not like that. Hold it here, by the base of the handle . . .”
Phillip threw a few times without much success, but his enthusiasm was undimmed as he ran and collected the knives when they landed.
“Wait. Look at me. Watch,” Nick ordered. “Smooth and steady. Bring it over your shoulder, steady with the left, and release. ”
Thwack!
The knife shuddered into the distant bull’s-eye.
“You’re way too good at this.”
“Years of practice.” He smiled. “I was worse than you when I first started. Keep working at it. You’ll get better.”
So he did, and thankfully managed not to slice his own hand off.
“I suppose I ought to ask you your intentions toward my mum,” the pup remarked at length, casting Nick a wary look askance before staring downrange again at the target, then throwing the blade just like Nick had shown him.
“I don’t have any,” he replied, startled. “I’m here to do a job, then I’m going to America.”
“Really? Why?” He stopped and turned to him, his auburn eyebrows arched high in surprise. “Do you have a mission there?”
“Hardly. I want to see the wilderness. Maybe stake out a claim west of the Allegheny Mountains.”
“But that’s Indian territory! Aren’t you worried you’ll get scalped?”
“No,” he answered in amusement.
Phillip pondered this. “But will you come back? You have a title. Don’t you already own some land in England?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t care about my title. You ask a lot of questions.”
“I think I have the right,” he shot back with startling impertinence, “considering you want to take my mother to London.”
“It’s not like that,” he said with a frown. “She’s the one taking me. Don’t worry, I have no designs on her. She’s far too good for me. I’m only helping her with a case.”
“Helping my mother?” Phillip echoed with a dubious stare. “The woman who never needs any help from anyone, especially from a man?”
Nick laughed. “Apparently, she’s in over her head on this one.”
Phillip instantly sobered. “Should I be worried?”
“I’ll take care of her,” Nick assured him.
The boy was silent for a moment. “Does this have to do with John Carr? She told me he went missing.”
“Yes, her assistant.” Nick looked askance at Phillip when he snorted in disgust.
“That weasel! Sickeningly in love with her. Maybe he finally gave up on her and went and hanged himself.” The boy shook his head. “I never trusted him.”
Nick weighed Phillip’s words uncertainly. “Well, your mother seems very concerned. We’re going to see if we can find out if he’s all right or if something’s happened to
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