Chapter 7
Lord Edward was asleep when Tobias picked the lock on his door after sliding past Mrs. Chaffinch downstairs.
“Get your boots on, Stone, the sun’s up.”
“Must you be so noisy?” groused Edward, pulling the pillow over his head so his friend wouldn’t interrupt his sleep.
“In fact, yes. The day is young. Your horse wants exercise. Best not to upset him.”
The kid knew how to get him up and moving, damn him. As Edward pulled his clothes on behind a screen, Tobias stopped talking in a way that was entirely too suspicious.
“Tobias?”
Silence.
Edward popped his head out from around the screen to see the kid studying the new pair of boots he’d brought home.
“What’s that?” asked the kid.
“Cobbler made me a new pair of boots. Just one problem.”
“What’s that?” repeated Tobias, his eyes full of longing.
“Far too small for me.”
“You should get them remade. They’re fine work.”
“They’re all right,” said Edward, dismissing boots made by the finest cobbler in the capital. “His wife’s been ill and I didn’t want to make an issue of it. ‘Fraid I’m stuck with them now.”
“You could sell them for a pretty penny,” said Tobias, reaching out to touch the polished leather.
“Yes, but I’m just so tired. I can’t be bothered.”
“That’s quite a lot of clutter in a small room, then.”
Edward looked up, as if just realizing that he didn’t have space for unneeded things. “I say, you’re right, kid.”
“I’m not a kid,” he grumbled.
“You wouldn’t know anyone who might need a pair of boots, would you? About that size?”
“What are you charging?” asked Tobias quickly.
“Not looking to charge. Someone would do me a favor by taking them out of this place.”
Tobias was already peeling off his boots, the rotted, detached soles almost coming apart in his haste.
Edward carefully pulled his own boots on, reminding himself to get them resoled the next time he got paid.
“Off to see Tencendor?” asked Tobias.
“I was thinking haircuts,” said Edward. “We’re due, aren’t we?”
“As long as it’s not done by Mr. Rymer.”
Edward laughed while locking up his room.
“Oh, I was supposed to meet a Maccaroni at the chop-house later, but he sent a note round cancelling,” said Edward.
“Must be something important for a man to turn down the chop-house.”
“‘Fraid so,” said Edward. “Problem is that I’ve paid for the meal already. A nice spread.”
“I’ve never heard of an arrangement like that before,” said Tobias, suspicion finally crossing his face.
“What do you know of the chop-house?” asked Edward with mock anger. “Here I’ve been giving you good meat pies, and you’ve been enjoying beefsteaks all this time? Deceiver!”
Tobias knocked against the taller man to shut him up. “You know it’s not like that.”
“And you don’t know how strictly a chop-house keeps its books. I ordered a special cut. In a special room.”
“Well, now. Would be a shame for it to go to waste.”
“I guess you’ll just have to come with me,” said Edward, leading the way out.
“Me? You want me to—”
“It’s the only way not to feel silly about the whole affair.”
“And here I thought you were about to confess that you enjoy the pleasure of my company,” joked Tobias.
“I’m beginning to think I do,” said Lord Edward wonderingly.
“Don’t think I don’t see what you two are up to!” hollered Mrs. Chaffinch from her sitting room on the way out of the boarding house.
“What’s she on about?” asked Edward.
“Don’t have the faintest,” said Tobias, his hands firmly planted in his pockets.
THE END