Page 51 of Infamous

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Eddie. ‘The library feels like it goes on forever and ever. I don’t think I could ever have enough thoughts to fill it.’

Nash grinned at her. ‘God, I’m glad I brought you. The others are all very well and good, of course, I enjoy their company .?.?. but with you .?.?. I don’t know. I feel as if I see it all through your eyes. The view, it has to be said, is excellent.’

Juno came running back to Eddie and pressed her enormous wet nose into Eddie’s palm; there was something grey and crumpled in her mouth, and Eddie bent to inspect it.

‘What have you got there, Juno? It looks like half an old cap.’

Juno turned and tried to bestow it upon Nash, who grimaced at her and pushed her head away.

‘Stop slobbering on my breeches, you hideous beast.’

The dog seemed to lose interest, and dropped the filthy, frilly piece of once-white muslin on the ground before plodding away. It looked rather like a servant’s cap; Eddie thought again of the poor maid who had supposedly washed up on one of these very beaches, and shuddered. That was the thing with tales of ghosts and tragedy: once the mood had been set, you couldn’t help but see ominous signs everywhere, even if the protagonists of said stories always seemed unthinkably ignorant to their inevitable doom.

Instead of walking down towards the shoreline, they circled the house until they reached the south side and the slope that ended abruptly in crumbling cliffs.

‘Listen .?.?. your manuscript .?.?. it needs a lot of work, Edie, but I think that with my help you could knock it into shape very quickly – what do you reckon? I’ll be sending word to my editor around All Hallows, I don’t think I can put him off any longer.’

‘All Hallows? That’s very soon.’

They stopped a few feet away from the cliffs, looking out over the churning, wind-tossed lake. Juno started whining, low in her throat, and Nash tutted and gave her a mostly friendly whack to the side of the head.

‘I know you can do it. Just .?.?. take out the jokes, give it some morepoetry. You have such a particular talent, Miss Miller, and it mustn’t be kept from the world. You’ll be the talk of every .?.?. every eminent salon and dingy drawing room. Gentlemen will swoon, ladies will pine. Kitty will have to paint you.’

‘Nash,’ Eddie said, feeling embarrassed; she gave him a little push on the arm to quiet him, but he seemed to misinterpret her intention, and lifted a hand to trap her fingers and keep them there. The breeze picked up, lifting her hair and ruffling Nash’s, the two of them flushed pink and white from the shock of the cold.

‘You must know that I mean every word,’ he said, his voice dipping low. His fingers were cool, the pads of them pressing deliberately into the gaps between her knuckles. ‘God, Edie. I don’t know how to tell you what a wonder you are. I feel .?.?. I feel finally awake, after so long in darkness.’

‘You took in too much lake water yesterday,’ Eddie said, her heart racing as she stared very determinedly at the dog.

‘Oh, you mustn’t mock me when I’m being sincere – I don’t have the constitution for it. I must sound utterly mad, I know, but you are such a .?.?. ararity. The sharpest mind in the softest trappings. There’s nothing for it, I’m afraid. I am quite helpless.’

He ran a thumb over Eddie’s knuckles; she shivered, unable to look away.

‘Don’t you think we should go back inside?’ she said, in almost a whisper.

‘I don’t feel particularly inclined, actually .?.?. but you’re so cold, Edith. Come here.’

Eddie knew this wasn’t true; she was warm, so warm, and Nash was the one whose hands were freezing as they stroked her fingers and pressed against the pulse at her wrist. It felt terrible and wonderful and completely intoxicating; if Eddie’s fifteen-year-old self could have seen her now, after all those nights imagining what it would be like to be wanted by the greatNash Nicholson, the longing that had persisted even once she’d discovered that he had a wife—

‘Itiscold,’ Eddie said suddenly, pulling herself free. ‘We should return to the house. The others will be missing us.’

It wasn’t quite what she meant, but it was good enough for the present.

Nash stared at her, an unreadable expression flitting across his face – and then he sighed.

‘Ah. Yes. Very well, very well.’

Eddie felt an odd, uncomfortable rush of guilt, as if they had been sharing a joke and she had suddenly ruined the fun. As they started back towards the house this only doubled as she thought of Liza, waiting for them in the parlour. It felt very grown-up, to get married – and very childish to flirt with a man with a wife just because he wrote excellent poetry and was as handsome as he was insistent.

If only he weren’t quitesohandsome, Eddie thought ruefully, she might have been better able to control her inclination to swoon in his presence.

‘We’re to host a party,’ Nash said the moment they walked through the doors into the South Parlour, as Eddie busied herself fussing over the dog’s muddy paws to avoid having to look at anybody. It occurred to her that Liza had been sitting by the window, looking out over the lawns; the cliffs were surely too far for her to have seen anything distinctly, but Eddie was still disquieted at the prospect that she had been watching.

‘Christ, Nicks, no,’ Liza said now. ‘It is such trouble, arranging the boats, and the people from the village hardly need another reason to think ill of us, they’re half-convinced we’re raising the dead as it is—’

‘Absolute nonsense, Liza, they shall be happy for the work, as they always were,’ Nash said, clapping her on the back and looking very pleased with himself. ‘Even if they do think we’re all filthy pagans. Valentine, come and take a turn about the cellar with me. I can’t for the life of me remember what we’ve got left in reserve. Liza, call for a summit with Mrs Hall, and if she goes for your throat, remember she has a bad hip and is easily tripped.’

Liza did not look particularly pleased, but she went from the room anyway. Dayo sighed.