Epilogue
Ten months later
“Ho there, sir!” called a familiar voice.
“Gesù, hide me,” muttered Edward, trying to slip behind Tencendor’s flank before Lady Millicent Blatherwick approached.
“Why is she waving a cane?” asked Tobias from the saddle many feet above him. “Do I need to move Tencendor away so she doesn’t strike him?”
Edward slumped against his horse. “No, her one saving grace is that she loves him. Would never dream of hurting her ‘best boy.’”
“Is that my best boy?” she cried out, sending a flock of swans scurrying into a pond.
“I don’t think hiding is going to work,” whispered Tobias as he watched the elderly woman approach.
Her bonnet had fallen from her head and bobbed along at her knees, attached to her neck by a tied ribbon.
Someone had rigged her gloves with string so they’d stay somewhat connected to her person while not actually being worn.
They extended from her pelisse cuffs like little wings as she moved about with great excitement.
“Oh, is that you, Netherwallop?” she asked, peering around the horse’s arse.
Edward Richard Stone, Viscount Netherwallop, stared back balefully.
Upon the death of his brother, Dick Stone had provisionally inherited that ridiculous title, much to his horror.
Had he inherited his brother’s allowance, which might have offered some consolation?
Absolutely not; the whole of the Chasterly fortune rested in the hands of his father, who had not even acknowledged his presence at Horatio’s funeral.
Nor had there been compensation for the enthusiastic breeding of his sister-in-law; it seemed ungentlemanly to materialize with a contract in the wake of Horatio’s death and expect the man’s solicitors to deal with what was, in truth, a hare-brained scheme.
A slight complication could yet lead to him forfeiting the title; the Viscountess was confirmed to be pregnant. The hare-brained scheme appeared to have borne fruit.
Yes, in a twist of fate, Edward truly had bred the lovely Calista that day the terrible news arrived, and as there was no way to know the sex of the baby until it emerged from its cozy confines, all of London waited to see if that scoundrel Dick Stone would be dealt another blow by Providence for his perfidy.
(Exactly what perfidy this was, no one bothered to elaborate, presumably because it was too horrible for words.)
In truth, the idea of giving back the Netherwallop courtesy title sounded like something of a gift he’d perhaps given himself all those months ago. But it was not to be.
“It’s a girl!” cried Lady Millicent, causing Tencendor to dance at her unexpected shout.
Edward thought he only experienced the sensation of time slowing and quickening in battle, but that day in Hyde Park, everything seemed to float for a moment as his brain made sense of the news.
He’d not accepted that he was the heir to the marquess in the time since Horatio’s death, so certain had he been that his rogering had got a son on Calista.
But the universe — perhaps Providence — does so enjoy playing tricks. And this was the greatest of them all in his three-and-a-half decades.
Calista and Miss Arden had a girl. At least one member of his family had found happiness.
Lady Millicent was racing off to accost some other unsuspecting park patron with the news when Tobias offered him a lemon drop.
“None for me, thanks,” said Edward, still turning the birth announcement over in his head like dice at a gambling hell.
“Urgh!” cried Tobias, spitting the candy out. “Bitter! They cut the sugar!”
The problem with spitting out a piece of candy while seated on a skittish horse for only the third time in your life is that when the beast starts, holding on with one’s arms and legs does not come naturally.
It was a long fall for Tobias from Tencendor’s saddle. The warhorse, thankfully, avoided stepping on the urchin, but the lad was out cold on that riding path, his favorite silver flask ejected from his pocket.
***
Edward paced outside his rented room at Mrs. Chaffinch’s boarding house as the doctor examined the patient. Some kind fellows at the park had helped with Tencendor and summoned the physician.
He reassured himself that lads sustained far worse injuries and lived all the time. It was part of being a young fellow. Why, some men paid to get knocked about in the boxing ring! Tobias simply needed to toughen up!
And yet…he thought of soldiers dying in the most unlikely of ways after surviving bullets and bayonets, cut down in the prime of life by some bite or tumble that shouldn’t have harmed a child.
Humans were altogether too fragile, he thought as he slumped against the wall. If God took his friend—
“Lord Netherwallop?” asked a voice from the doorway.
For the first time, he didn’t flinch or try to deny who he was.
“Yes?”
“That’s an excellent trick you’ve been pulling,” said the physician wryly. “Had even me fooled ‘til I was midway through the examination.”
Edward felt like he was the one struck on the head. Nothing made sense today, at least not in the usual timeframes.
“I should have known when your landlady made a remark on my way up.”
Why would Mrs. Chaffinch say anything to the doctor? It was all so strange. He’d need to say something; he wasn’t paying this man’s bill until he talked sense!
“Could you enlighten me—”
“Sneaking a lass into your lodgings by putting her in breeches,” said the doctor jauntily before shaking his hand. “That’s worthy of the lads at Oxford!”
Edward felt thicker than the sludge silting up the Thames.
The physician hooted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know! Oh, this is too good.”
“Didn’t know what?” he asked. Why was he the last person to know everything important today?
Once again, time slowed. When the physician’s eyes slid to the doorknob that led to Edward’s room, he finally realized what the man had been telling him.
He flung open the door, but it was too late. The window had been unlocked and left wobbling on its hinges. Tobias was nowhere to be found.
In the casements, the new caulk appeared damaged, as if someone had scratched at it like a trapped animal before remembering how to free the latch.
“I suppose she’s gone,” said the doctor, taking out a cheroot and standing by as he waited for Edward to come to his senses and settle the bill. “Exam still happened.”
“I didn’t even know her name,” mumbled Edward, feeling for the coins.
“Said it was Tabitha,” said the physician, clapping him on the shoulder in thanks when he handed over payment.
Tabitha.
“Don’t worry, my man,” said the doctor as he started down the stairs, “they always come back, those tabby cats. Just put out a bowl of milk and give her a few days.”
“I don’t think this one will,” muttered Edward to himself as he re-entered the room.
By now, it was night. Tobias…Tabitha had straightened his bed before departing, despite his…her panic. He regarded the open window again and ran his fingers through the gouges in the caulk.
Edward sank onto the bed, imagining what it would be like to never see his friend again. Not because of a terrible accident, but because of this secret he never expected.
He resigned himself to going out in search of a bottle of liquor when a bright light caught his eye. There on his desk was Tobias’s prized silver water flask. Tabitha’s flask.
“You can’t be going about without this,” he said to himself, tucking it into his coat pocket. He’d set out to find her tomorrow. She’d want this back.
Above his head that night, the window remained just a little open, letting in the fetid London air as he thought of how to track her down.
Come wind, come weather, he’d get his friend back.
THE END