Page 13 of Infamous

‘Ride it to China.’

Rose rolled her eyes at Eddie, who snorted. Beatrice had become so fascinated by the fact that Rose’s family was from Guangzhou, a port city in China, that she had been inventing all manner of schemes and criminal enterprises to transport herself there. She asked Rose unceasing questions about it, despite Rose’s protestations that she had neverbeento China, and was not going to ask for her mother’s help to write to her grandparents and ask if they liked the same sort of sandwiches as Beatrice.

‘Well, good luck and godspeed,’ Eddie said, as Beatrice managed to get loose and sprinted for the opposite door into the dining room.

Simon looked at Eddie, who still had one arm around Rose, and sighed.

‘Nobody ever asks me if I’d like a hug,’ he said, before sloping out of the room, following a trail of small, black footprints.

*

‘This isNash Nicholson’sfront door.’

‘Yes, and it’s in desperate need of a repaint,’ said Mr Rednock jovially. ‘Also, I think he may have woodworm.’

Eddie shot daggers at Rose, as if she had been the one to speak. She had immediately regretted asking Rose to invite Mr Rednock when he’d stepped out of his carriage just thirty seconds after their arrival looking so distinctlyordinarythat it made Eddie’s jaw hurt. She was trying to ignore him as much as possible now; no further nonsense from him could be allowed to detract from the fact that she was standing onNash Nicholson’sdoorstep, awaiting admittance into one of his famed salons.

Well .?.?. awaiting admittance implied that she had already knocked, which she certainly had not.

‘Perhaps we ought to go home,’ Eddie said. She could hear laughter from within, the sound of many people crammed into too-small rooms, and suddenly she wanted to be at home in her bed, or in the treehouse with Rose, dreaming of literary salons instead of having to actually attend one. ‘Perhaps .?.?. I don’t feel well, so perhaps if we just take a turn around the—’

She was cut off by Rose, who had gently pushed past her and knocked. Eddie stared at her, frozen in place, half-hoping that she might not have been heard over all the noise inside. Ten long seconds passed; Rose was just preparing to knock again, and Eddie was preparing to tell her not to, when the door opened abruptly.

‘Good evening!’ said a tall, pale, ice-blonde person sporting a men’s waistcoat over a dress of pale pink muslin. ‘What business?’

‘Oh,’ said Eddie, momentarily lost for words. ‘We’re .?.?. I’m .?.?. That is, we were just—’

‘Mr Albert Rednock,’ said Mr Rednock, leaning past Eddie to offer his hand, clearly intending for it to be shaken; instead, it was kissed in a perfunctory manner. ‘Ah. Yes. This is Miss Rose Li and Miss Edith Miller. Mr Nicholson’s guests.’

‘MrNicholson, is it? Who are you? His accountant?’

‘He breeds rabbits,’ Eddie said, for no particular reason.

‘Well,’ they said, sighing. ‘I suppose that’s something. Come in, come in, you’re letting all the good air out.’

Inside, Eddie immediately noticed that it wasn’t just the front door that needed repainting. The wallpaper in the hallway was faded, dark patches in some corners suggesting either creeping damp or a strong aversion to cleaning. There was an enormous bouquet of flowers on an ornately carved side table, dahlias spilling out of a cracked vase in every direction. A stack of unopened post sat in a pile on the windowsill, and Eddie’s fingers twitched without her permission, as if they might be about to produce a letter-opener and tear into Nash Nicholson’s private correspondence at his own party. There was what looked like a brand-new waistcoat, hand-painted silk in duck-egg blue, tossed carelessly over the banister of the stairs.

‘Liza has been away,’ said their makeshift host, waving an arm at the odd combination of opulence and squalor as they turned right and down a short corridor. ‘He’s been living like a feral badger. Here we are.’

The door was shoved unceremoniously open, and the sound of the party spilled out to meet them.

The room was small, but somehow four sofas had been crammed into it, facing each other to form a square; an assortment of people were packed onto every inch of furniture, with more propped up against the walls or leaning their elbows on a sideboard covered in numerous bottles of uncorked liquor. Nash Nicholson was holding court, everybody around him leaning in to listen, with a blonde woman Eddie supposed must be his wife almost sitting in his lap; when he looked up and saw them enter, he threw his arms wide, almost relieving the blonde woman of her nose.

‘Valentine! You’ve delivered friends!’ he said, not getting up.

Noneof the gentlemen got up, which struck Eddie as rather odd for a moment – but of course, she reminded herself, these weretruenonconformists. Radicals. Not standing when a woman entered probably did not even register on their list of regular societal transgressions.

Nash flashed her a grin and then gestured to the sofas.

‘Sit, sit.’

There was nowheretosit; Mr Rednock offered Rose the only patch she could reasonably occupy, next to a couple of middle-aged ladies passing a pipe back and forth, then went to fetch her a drink. Eddie tried to lounge nonchalantly against the back of one of the sofas, but instead found herself listing to one side with all the grace of a scarecrow in a hailstorm, so instead stood up straight, her hands clasped behind her back. She had never been particularly conscious of the arrangement of her limbs; usually they just got on with things. Now they were rather letting her down.

Eddie had expected Nash to make introductions, but he had immediately been drawn back into his story, stretching out some detail with evocative hand gestures and causing the gentleman to his right to choke on his drink. The person Eddie assumed was called Valentine – although whether this was a first or last name she was entirely unsure – had been fetching a drink, but returned to see her standing there and looked aghast.

‘Has nobody offered you a drink? Or a seat? Good Lord, theseradicalsandartists– getup.’

A gentleman with his shirt hanging open, who had been sitting near Nash, was forcibly ejected from his seat, and Eddie shot him an apologetic grimace before sitting down.