Page 8 of Dearest Beast
Roger knelt by the girl, who, at nine, was in the throes of some rather mercurial moods, the sort that accompanied children of sophisticated intellect and speech who had been through a terrible ordeal and demanded a certain amount of deference.
“I’m sure it was not your fault,” he said, before shifting his attention back to his friend as he rose to his feet. “Whathappened?”
Sol rubbed the back of his neck, his top hat slipping down his forehead. “I was attending evening minyan, and I had always planned to bring Michael, but, well, Hannah has been ill, and Tamar was assisting her, and—”
“It stank,” Fannie cut in, wrinkling her little nose.
His friend pursed his lips before resuming. “I permitted Fannie to come with us and, well—”
“It was dull and there was no one else on the balcony,” his daughter said with a flounce. “I just went outside for a moment, but Rose saw a rat and got loose.”
Rose?Roger stood agape. “You permitted her to bring the cat?” he asked, glancing around for the little beast, the tom he’d mistakenly brought home as a pet. A creature who regularly destroyed everything from curtains to bedding, to chairs, his claws far stronger than the thorns of his namesake.
“I didn’t notice,” his friend said with a guilty cough.
“He was under my pelisse, so he could be warm,” Fannie explained. “I only entered the house for a moment, just to fetch him, and nothing would’ve happened ifshehadn’t frightened him.”
“Who?” Roger managed to ask, his mind racing to make senseof his daughter’s words. Had she entered someone’s home without their permission? Had her governess not discussed such etiquette? Possibly, as both his children were likely quite advanced in their academic endeavors, she might have made an unfortunate assumption. Something to keep an eye upon, though later. He still had to make sense of the current circumstances. He turned back to the child.
“The angry lady.” Fannie scowled. “She was wearing nightclothes in the afternoon, can you imagine?” After giving a derisive sniff, his daughter smoothed her little skirts, reminding him of his late wife, even though the child favored him in appearance. “Anyway, she frightened Rose and made him jump, and he knocked over some jars and, well, she became very cross and grabbed me.” Her light brown eyes flashed.
“Did she hurt you?” Roger asked, panic now flooding his senses as he assessed his child for evidence of harm.
“I hurt her,” his daughter pronounced with not a small amount of pride. “I bit and kicked her, but she wouldn’t let go. She was hollering something awful too. Until she tripped on the cobblestones.” His daughter paused for a moment, staring up at him.
“After that, there was a loud crash, and the house caught on fire. Uncle Sol came to fetch me and told me to stay put, near a trough. It was very cold,” his daughter added, rubbing her little arms.
After counting to ten twice in his head, Roger turned back to his friend. “Sol?”
This time the other man removed his hat before bending his neck for a moment. “That’s more or less a decent summation of this afternoon and early evening’s events, though some might quibble with a few of the details.”
“Quibble?” he repeated, halting his glare at the oddly serious and resolute look in the younger man’s eyes. Roger resisted a sigh beforeturning back to his daughter. “Fannie, why don’t you wash up for your meal as well?”
And, like her brother before her, his daughter happily skipped down the hall, leaving them alone. He returned his attention to his friend. “Explain, now,” he commanded.
The man took a deep breath. “Fannie caused an explosion in the Adler house.”
Of all the words that could’ve sprung from his friend’s mouth, those were not the ones Roger had remotely imagined.
“Pardon?” he asked, as his mind stuttered over the word “explosion.” And the name “Adler.” A wave of dread washed over Roger.
“From what I’ve gathered, after she snuck in through a window, she spent some time in the workroom,” his friend explained, now gesturing with his hands rather rapidly. “The Adler women are midwives who render their own supplies. They—well, Miss Adler primarily—creates various tonics and devices for the practice, so the room contained a decent amount of chemicals—”
“Which were clearly stored improperly,” Roger retorted, now beginning to picture the scene. And the players. Really, one of the players. He’d made the mistake of—for lack of a better word—fucking Miss Adler seven months ago. The night of his brother Louis’s exile.
He’d not been himself, filled with regret, as well as the fear he was not and never would be quite what he should.
It had been a hot and angry joinder, the kind that could only be accomplished by two people who absolutely despised each other.
Thus, naturally, the best sexual intercourse of his life.
Fortunately, except for that singular lapse in judgment, he’d always been able to transcend his baser inclinations and would continue to do so. Because it could not, under any circumstances, be repeated.
While their law did not require marriage after such an act between two unattached people, if certain members of the community learned of the incident, there’d be pressure for them to bind themselves all the same.
Which would be a disaster. Yes, Miss Adler had proclaimed such would be an inconvenience for her and her profession, but it would be acatastrophefor him and his children. Apart from their business partners—and, there only out of obligation—no one on his side of the community invited Miss Adler anywhere. Rumor had it that her own also avoided her whenever possible due to both her sour disposition and unremarkable features that she made no attempt to ameliorate through decent dress or enhancements like anyone with common sense did.
Not to mention, permitting her anywhere near the ton… He shuddered at the concept. She’d probably use the wrong fork while correcting the host’s grammar, then conclude with a lecture on the wrongness of their political opinions. Thus, she was the last woman to whom he should be connected.
