“Have I upset you?”
“You went out to take your new friend shopping at ten, and it’s past five now! Where’ve youbeen?”
Nico sat with a sigh, and started wrestling his boots off. “Did you miss me?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly the problem,” Eve said with immense sarcasm. “I was all sad and lonely by myself till one of Gaskin’s men turned up to keep me company.”
Nico dropped the boot. “Shit. Are you all right? What did he want?”
“He pointed out I’d said you’d come back with Gaskin’s money, and you’re back, so where is it?”
“Fuck. I thought we’d have more time. He didn’t touch you?”
“Not this time,” Eve said, mouth twisting. “I said there was a delay, and he said Jacky Gaskin doesn’t like delays, and we’re to come round and explain where his money is tomorrow.”
“Fuck,” Nico said again. “Why’s Gaskin in such a damned hurry?”
“Because I was supposed to pay him back weeks ago?”
“It was a rhetorical question. I’ll delay him, all right? I’ll go and see him tomorrow.”
“We,” Eve said.
“No.”
Eve gave him a look of pure malevolence. Nico ignored it. Eve was fierce and determined, not to mention quick, clever, and entirely unprincipled, but also smaller than Nico, frighteningly more vulnerable, and worryingly frail. Nico remembered too many coughs that had gone to Eve’s chest and stayed there, too many broken bones from accidents where Nico had bounced off unharmed.
And they were in this together. The cousins had been allies in survival since they could toddle, as close as siblings. Eve had stolen food for them both; Nico had charmed both their ways out of trouble when retribution descended. Nico had fought for Eve physically and verbally more times than he couldcount; Eve had hit some very large people over the head from behind on his behalf, and told some spectacular lies to angry husbands and wives while Nico extricated himself from their spouses. Lovers, friends, parents came and went, but Nico and Eve stood for one another, the sole reliable relationship either had ever had, and Nico could no more leave Eve in a dangerous mess than Eve could leave him, or either of them could fly.
Which, unfortunately, required the occasional sacrifice. Nico was no more likely than Eve to win a fight with Jacky Gaskin’s phalanx of thugs, but Eve was still wincing from last year’s broken ribs. If one of them was going to take physical punishment now, it had to be Nico.
He knew better than to express that. “He’s annoyed with you, not me, so let’s not let him see you. I’ll tell him it’s in hand, play the comte, we’ll have a nice chat. Anyway, you were asking about my day.Somuch shopping. I took Pilcrow to Mr. Hawkes and spent an absolute fortune of his money.”
“Congratulations?”
Nico gave a pointed sigh. “He’s got no idea what he’s doing, and he’s desperate for someone to help. So I’m going to dress him up, hold his hand, take him to parties, be his glamorous wonderful new best friend. And in due course we’re going to talk about my poor betrayed mother again, and I expect he’ll be a bit more interested next time.”
“Oh,” Eve said. “Oh, right, fair enough. You think he’ll take the bait?”
Nico took a moment to consider his answer. Pilcrow wasn’t stupid, but intelligence wasn’t the issue. The thing that got you, that made you vulnerable and left you wide open to manipulation, was dreams. Pilcrow hadn’t looked or sounded like a dreamer at first, but Nico had seen the man’s face while Mr. Hawkes exhibited fabrics, murmuring,Surely something very plain, even as he stared longingly at colours.
That was people for you. No matter how sensible and practical they might be, there was always a chink where the dreams crept in and made them vulnerable. They had fantasies of royalty or true love or social success, and didn’t see what they were sacrificing for it. They dreamed of revenge, and blundered into horrible trouble pursuing it. They wanted the perfect green so badly they’d wear arsenic on their backs.
Pilcrow looked at colours as if he were hearing symphonies, and surely to God that made him a man who dreamed.
“Maybe,” he said. “He’s not stupid, though, so if you’ve got any other leads for buyers?”
“I looked into the other collectors while you were larking around, actually. One of them’s out of the country, but there’s two still to chase. Sorry if it gets in the way of your fun.”
“I have not been having fun,” Nico lied.
He’d enjoyed the day very much indeed, except for the crawling sensation on his skin every time he remembered what his coat was steeped in. He liked spending money even when it wasn’t for his own benefit; he liked to indulge his eye for the fashions; he had very much liked a break from fretting about Jacky Gaskin’s reach, and malevolence, and the violence he exerted so casually against debtors. And, it turned out, he liked Pilcrow.
Titus Pilcrow was a quiet, serious sort of man, a little shy, a little awkward, the sort who thought too much about things that ought not bother him. He had a sense of humour, and a generous soul: He’d bought Nico an excellent luncheon and been good company eating it. He obviously admired Nico’s good looks, which was usual, but was highly respectful about it, which was less so. He was generally respectful, in fact. No jibes about Nico’s nationality or his pursuit of Miss Whitecross; no probing questions; no jostling for social position, scoring points, dropping names. Rather, he was… Nico groped fora word, and settled on “self-contained.” A man who lived in himself, not always hungry, or demanding, or grabbing at others for more. Nico, who was frequently the object of people’s hunger and grabbing, found that remarkably peaceful.
He had set out to make himself the newly rich man’s best friend because, to his frantically searching eyes, it seemed a possible way out of the dungeon he was in. But in the process he’d undeniably had a very good day.
Especially in the shop. They’d argued for a good couple of hours, Pilcrow flinching at the idea of being showy, Nico pushing as hard as he could for something more exciting. He could see the way Pilcrow’s eyes lit at the fabrics that sang to him, how those slightly oversized features became animated by enthusiasm, and his face suddenly looked just right.