"She's bearing it with more tolerance than I would."
"That's because you're like me, Charlie, and such behavior from our husbands would never be tolerable." She angled a sharp glare toward Lincoln.
He lifted a brow and I had the feeling he was challenging her-daring her-to accuse him. Then his gaze darted to mine, and a small crease appeared between his brows.
Doyle entered and announced the arrival of Lady Dalhouse's coach, Lady V's ride for the evening.
"Goodnight everyone," she said, rising. "Don't wait up." She kissed the top of her son's head, much to his embarrassment.
We all watched her leave and then a collective sigh filled the room. "Your mother never fails to create a stir wherever she goes," I said to Seth.
"Why do you think I drink so much?" He got up to refill his glass, and refilled Gus's too, but Cook and Lincoln refused. "Another sherry, ladies?"
"No, thank you," I said.
"Not for me, either," Alice said. "I've had quite enough for one evening."
Seth set down the decanter. "Poppycock."
Poppycock? Since when had that word dropped into Seth's vocabulary?
"What now, Fitzroy?" Gus asked. "Want us to go to the Cat and Fiddle tonight?"
Lincoln nodded. "We three will head there shortly."
"To a Whitechapel tavern!" Alice blinked owlishly at Lincoln. "Is that wise?"
Lincoln's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Yes."
"They'll be fine," I assured her before she protested. "They've done it many times. Lincoln has even been into the Cat and Fiddle before, and no one has troubled him."
"Not after he smashed some heads together that night," Gus said with a chuckle. When he noticed no one else chuckling with him, he sobered.
"You're right to worry," Seth said, coming to Alice's side. He squatted beside her and patted her hand. "Whitechapel is a dangerous place, but we're well trained in the art of pugilism." He tapped his chin. "I'm used to taking a few blows in the process of gathering information. A bruise here and there never bothered me, and the other fellow always winds up worse off."
Cook rolled his eyes, and Gus shook his head.
Alice frowned prettily, albeit dramatically. "You're so brave! To venture into a rookery with only your fists as weapons, when the thugs will possess knives and possibly even guns. You're a hero, Seth. A true warrior."
Gus snorted a laugh and Cook grinned. "I like you more 'n' more, Alice," he said.
Seth laughed too, and didn't seem at all perturbed to have been mocked. "Yes. Well. We'll be armed with more than just our fists, of course." He backed away and plucked his glass off the table where he'd deposited it. "The thing is," he said to me, "how can we be sure Erskine isn't talking complete … poppycock?"
Poppycock again. Good lord, if he was going to act and sound like a toff around Alice, we were going to have to have conversations without her present. "I think he spoke the truth," I said.
"He had no reason to lie," Lincoln added. He set down his glass and strode across the room. "Get ready. We leave in thirty minutes."
Seth and Gus followed him out, and Cook rose to leave too.
"Just a moment," I said to him. "How is Mrs. Cotchin working out? Are you two getting along?"
He scratched his bald head. "She be too busy to bother me. I told her straight up that the kitchen be my space and the rest of the house be hers. So far she ain't caused no problems."
"Good, I'm glad everything's settled."
"She did look at me odd when I came in here and looked to be about to say something, but then Doyle spoke to her. I 'spect he'll tell her what's what with us."
"I hope he doesn't tell her too much. Not yet, at least. We don't want her fleeing with fright and telling tales."
"She be a robust sort, I reckon, but Doyle won't tell."
"What of the new kitchen?"
"It ain't all done yet. The builders be back tomorrow. It'll be grand when it be finished. The new cooker be a dream to work." His face lit up at the mention of the cooker. He was a complex, interesting man, yet his joys were simple. He loved to cook.
He left, leaving Alice and I alone. "I think I'll stay in my boys' clothing a little longer," I said, sitting like a man again with my knees apart. "It's rather liberating sprawling in an armchair like this."
"Perhaps I'll try it one day when no one's about."
"Or you could try it when everyone is about, if you'd like to shock them."
"I'd prefer to avoid Lady Vickers' censure, thank you. I get quite enough fierce glances directed my way when she sees me with Seth."
"Speaking of Seth, you shouldn't tease him. He handles your barbs well, but he is trying very hard to impress you."
"I wish he wouldn't," she muttered, looking away.
"I've never seen him try so hard, in fact," I went on. "He's used to women falling at his feet no matter what he says or does. You confound him."
Her fingers twisted in her lap and she still didn't meet my gaze.
"It's all right, Alice. If you have no feelings for him in that way, then there's nothing for it. He'll recover, I'm sure. I'd wager his belief in his own appeal is in more danger than his heart."
She looked relieved. "I'm glad to hear it, because … I don't know what to make of him, to be honest. I'm not one for falling at the feet of handsome, charming men just because they're handsome and charming."
"I don't think we'd be such good friends if you were."
"There must be something more in a man to interest me, something of substance," she said.
"Seth does have substance. It just takes time to find it beneath the attractive exterior. He's terribly loyal, for one thing, and fiercely determined to right the past wrongs of his father." He'd worked hard to pay his father's debts, taking any work he could find. Some of that work was dubious, however. "Is it his lack of money and property?"
"No! He's gainfully employed here, and that's quite enough for me."
"Lady V, then? I know she doesn't think it a good match, but she'll come round once she gets to know you."
She sighed and slumped into the chair, her spine finally relaxing for the first time since sitting down. "That's the thing, Charlie. I hardly know him and he hardly knows me."
"I admit he's probably dazzled by your beauty, as most men are, but you do at least have substance beneath your pretty face, and if he doesn't know it yet, he will. He surely knows I wouldn't be friends with a silly twit." I laughed, but she merely smiled, and half-heartedly at that. "What is it, Alice? What's troubling you?"
"He's not being himself around me, is he? I can tell from your reactions and that of the others."
"I don't understand."
She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "He seems very upright, never saying or doing anything foolish or confrontational. He agrees with all my opinions, even when I deliberately say something absurd."
"You've been testing him?"
She winced. "It's awful of me, I know."
"Actually, I was thinking how clever of you. As to him agreeing with you, I'd play along. I wish Lincoln would agree with all my opinions."
"No, you don't."
I sighed. Perhaps she was right. Lincoln was his own man. A sycophant wouldn't do for me at all, and not for Alice either.
"Tell me, is Seth usually the sort of person who says poppycock?" she asked.
I smiled. "No. He tends to use much stronger words, although he does temper it a little in his mother's presence. Sometimes. And he'd never say a crude word in front of a woman. He treats me like a sister, so I don't count."
"I suppose."
"Do you want me to talk to him?"
"If you like, but I don't want him to think that it makes me interested in him in that way."
"I'll try to word it so he understands."
"It's just that I don't know him yet, not the real him without the act. So how can I tell if I will like him in that way?"
"Noted." Good lord, I sounded like Lincoln. "I'll speak with him tomorrow. Now, I'm starved. Do you want some supper?"
"Good idea."
"Ring for Doyle while I get changed. I don't want to send Mrs. Cotchin into a spin if she sees me dressed like this."
"You're remarkably calm considering Lincoln and the others are heading into Whitechapel at night."
"They can take care of themselves. All joking aside, they're very capable."
"Yes, but … " She sighed. "Sorry, I'm simply thinking the worst."
"Try not to." I gave her a flat smile, but as I headed up to my rooms, the familiar icy fingers of dread curled around my bones.
Instead of going straight to my rooms, I stood in the corridor outside Lincoln's. He emerged almost immediately, having probably sensed my presence. He'd already changed into coarse flannel trousers and a graying shirt. His feet were bare and he held a yellow neckerchief with frayed ends in one hand. His hair was still tied back. I knew from previous excursions into the East End that he'd untie it and ruffle it up a little.