Read Online Truly Yours by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online

in university. Or did the army give you bad manners along with a limp? You need fattening up, besides.” She poked a bony finger in his ribs.
    There was nothing like being treated like a little boy, right after acting like a rutting stag. Since he had not received the answers he needed from Miss Carville, though, Rex asked for Nanny’s opinion. “You don’t believe she is guilty?”
    “Why, look at the little lamb. And I don’t mean the way you were gawking when I came in, either. No, if she did shoot the cur, she’d have good reason. Your mother adored her, Sadie says, so there cannot be a mean streak to her. Now get on with you. Sadie is heating some stew for all of us. I made it, so you’ll like it. Until we get more help, you’ll have to take potluck—once you are decent.”
    At least Miss Carville was in good hands. Now Rex could start unraveling the knots in her tangled circumstances. Nanny seemed confident he could. The stew was indeed good and filling, and Murchison had packed some of his old, comfortable clothes. His leg felt better for the hot bath and the rest.
    He had no more excuses for staying in, or for not finding his cousin Daniel.

Chapter Six
    T he footman who was sent to find Daniel came back with his current address, but not his present whereabouts.
    “One of the other boarders says as how Mr. Stamfield oftentimes drinks and dices at Dirty Sal’s, a low den in Seven Dials where no gentleman less’n his size and reputation would dare walk,” the footman reported. “I wouldn’t put one foot there.”
    Rex had no choice but to leave Miss Carville alone with the servants although he worried about her welfare with such watchdogs: a philandering butler and a cowardly footman, a sniveling kitchen maid and a pimply potboy, a masquerading French valet, a housekeeper who could not cook, and a bent old nanny. Meanwhile the real watchdog, Verity, hid under the bed at the first sign of trouble.
    They’d have to do, Rex decided as he tucked a pistol into his waistband and secured a dagger in his boot. His jackass of a cousin had to be stopped from committing suicide in a slum. That, too, was now Rex’s responsibility. Last week he’d been riding and sailing, with nothing but his thoughts and his dog for company. Granted his thoughts were dismal, but now he was in the metropolis, with people depending on him again, fools that they were. He’d sworn to take orders from no one, be beholden to no one, and have no one’s welfare depending on him and his one freakish talent.
    Once again, his wants and wishes were blown about like leaves in autumn.
    “Shall I call for your carriage, my lord?” Dodd asked, all respectful in hopes of keeping his position.
    “No, the crested coach would be set upon instantly, if it could fit through the narrow streets, and a horse would be stolen as soon as I dismounted. I’ll take a hackney as far as the driver will carry me and walk the rest of the way.” He practiced sliding the case off the cane he carried, revealing the sword hidden within. His clothes were plain country wear, with no gleaming rings or fancy buckles to tempt the denizens of London’s underworld, but if anyone should challenge him, he’d be ready. He half wished some thug would try to pick his pocket or steal his purse. Heaven help the poor bastard.
    Maybe the scum who hid in alleys had unspoken talents of their own, like reading danger in the set of a man’s jaw, or seeing murderous intents like sparks in his eyes. No one bothered Rex. For a coin, a street urchin led him straight to Dirty Sal’s, after asking twice to be sure the toff really wanted to go inside that sinkhole. For another coin, the boy offered to take a message to the gent’s family, for when he didn’t come out.
    Rex tossed him a coin without answering, and stepped through a cloud of smoke and sour ale and sweat. He waited for his eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom and his nose to the stench, while he kept his back to the