The Novelty Maker (5 page)

                "Excellent," Cole said, perking up. Books were all well and good, but he might have died of boredom if Dwight had insisted on reading the afternoon away.

                It was late by the time Cole left Dwight's house and headed for his own a few blocks away. He'd had more brandy than he'd meant to, but Dwight seemed in better spirits so Cole counted the afternoon a success. Letting himself in the front door, Cole was surprised to find the butler waiting for him inside the door. Usually Allen was abed by this time of night.

                "You have a visitor, Master Elliot," Allen said, his face and tone giving away nothing. "She was quite insistent on waiting for you."

                "Who?"

                "She didn't have a card." Allen's nose wrinkled at the lack. "She gave her name as Ella Aste."

                The name wasn't familiar to Cole, but if she didn't have a calling card she was likely lower class. Could she be one of Harlowe's friends? Perhaps he was sending a clandestine message. "Thank you, Allen. You can get to bed now."

                Allen nodded stiffly and disappeared into the back of the house where the servants' quarters were. Cole headed towards the sitting room, his heartbeat picking up in anticipation. Opening the door, he stepped inside—and was somewhat disappointed to realize Ella Aste was the messenger he'd talked to the previous week about finding the messenger who was delivering the letters to Harlowe.

                "Good evening, Miss Aste," Cole said, tamping down his disappointment. She'd only have shown up if she'd found something, so perhaps Cole could track down Harlowe's secret admirer—if only to warn whomever it was off.

                "Ella, please," Ella said, grimacing. She was dressed more demurely than she had been the first time Cole had encountered her. She wore a simple dress of pale blue, though her boots were the same work-roughened leather she'd worn before. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid, and her lips were painted the same dark color.

                "I take it you found him?" Cole asked, noting the tea tray the housekeeper had brought was decimated.

                "Yes, though I don't know where he's off to now," Ella said, shrugging. "I know who bought him, though." She paused, looking at him expectantly.

                Cole rolled his eyes, making a production of pulling out his purse. He extracted the promised three gold coins and set them on the table, just out of her reach. "Who?"

                "You know him," Ella said, her dark-painted lips stretching into an amused smile.

                "That's great, who?" Cole asked, tapping his foot quickly against the floor of the parlor. Had he inadvertently led Harlowe's secret admirer to him?

                "Dwight Elliot," Ella said, watching him with that damnable smile on her face.

                "Dwight," Cole repeated, his voice lacking any inflection. Surely that wasn't right—Dwight had been fully focused on Miss Luxon. What did he care for Harlowe? Unless it was some sort of prank, something meant to prank
Cole
, not Harlowe, and had Dwight even considered how Harlowe would feel about that? Pulling out another gold coin, Cole tossed it on the table with the others. "Thank you, Miss Aste, that will be all."

                Ella just smiled at him again, collected her coins, and slipped out of the room. Cole waited until he heard the front door shut behind her, then let his anger out, kicking the closest thing—a sturdy chair that weather the abuse better than Cole's boot, and Cole spat out a curse at the pain that shot through his leg.

                What was Dwight thinking? Well, Cole would find out. If Dwight thought Cole would just let this slide, he had another thing coming. Turning, Cole stormed from the sitting room and out of the house, heading back to Dwight's house. It took him half the time to return than it had to get home, and Cole didn't hesitate, barging through the front door that Dwight hadn't bothered to lock yet.

                "Dwight!" Cole shouted at the bottom of the stairs, not sure where Dwight would be and not particularly caring if he woke the household. "Dwight, get your cowardly ass out here!"

                "I thought you went home," Dwight said from upstairs before Cole could see him. He appeared at the railing at the landing at the top of the stairs, peering down at Cole without a single scrap of remorse. "What are you shouting about?"

                "How dare you send letters to Harlowe!" Cole shouted, heading for the stairs even as Dwight's eyes widened.

                "Oh, that," Dwight said, and the bastard smiled. "Took you long enough to figure that out."

                "What?" Cole paused halfway up the stairs. "You wanted me to find out?"

                "Of course I did," Dwight said, waving a hand lazily. "Though I thought you'd make a move first."

                "What?" Cole repeated, his head swimming from the alcohol and the anger. He started up the stairs again, more slowly this time. "What do you mean?"

                "You were going to dither forever." Dwight leaned on the railing, peering down at Cole without an ounce of concern in his face. "I figured the letters would spur you into doing something, not backing off."

                "You tormented Harlowe because you thought I should say something?" Cole said, disbelieving. "And I 'backed off' for other reasons, you asshole. You shouldn't meddle in things you don't understand."

                "You should say something to him," Dwight maintained, even as Cole reached the top of the stairs. He straightened up, facing Cole. "If you don't, you'll lose him."

                "If I do, I'll lose him," Cole snapped, crossing his arms against an urge to hit Dwight. Mother would kill him.

                "If you don't, you'll never know and you'll regret it," Dwight said, as though he hadn't just lost the woman he'd loved by saying something.

                "Because that worked out so well for you," Cole said, immediately regretting the words at the hurt that flashed across Dwight's face. "You shouldn't have dragged Harlowe into it."

                "It's better knowing," Dwight said stubbornly. "You can extend my apologies to Harlowe when you go and tell him how you feel."

                "I'm not doing anything you say." Cole glared. "And you can make your own damn apologies, and you had better—"

                "Fine, I'll tell him," Dwight said, getting that stubborn set to his jaw that meant he'd go through with whatever stupid thing he was saying.

                "You'll do no such thing!" Cole stumbled forward, grabbing the front of Dwight's jacket and shaking him. "It's none of your business!"

                "Cole," Dwight said slowly, grabbing Cole's hands and prying them free. "You're my little brother. You've been miserable and moping over him. That makes it my business. Tell him, get it over with, and then you can move on, if necessary. If you don't, I will."

                "That's not fair," Cole said. Dwight would, too. He'd probably
enjoy
it, too. Scowling, Cole jerked his hands free. Turning, he stormed away, almost tripping down the stairs.

                "Tell him!" Dwight yelled after him from the top of the stairs. Cole didn't look back, shooting Dwight a rude gesture as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He slammed the front door behind him, pausing on the sidewalk to collect his thoughts.

                He was going to have to kill Dwight. That was the only solution, Cole decided, shooting the house a venomous glare. Kill Dwight… and tell Harlowe. At least about the letters, and probably about how much he meant to Cole.

                Sighing, Cole scrubbed his hands through his hair and stared broodingly at the sidewalk. He couldn't go tonight. It was too late, and he'd probably bungle everything with how tired and tipsy and angry he was. Tomorrow, then. This was going to go so terribly, and there was nothing Cole could do about it. Heading home again, Cole dragged his feet, as though reaching home later would somehow put off the inevitable.

                *~*~*

The morning was too bright, Cole thought, scowling at the sun as he slowly approached the shop. It was quiet, as early in the morning as it was, and Cole wanted nothing more than to turn around and return home. He'd barely slept, and the most he'd been able to stomach for breakfast had been tea. He'd imagined fifty ways this would go terribly, and not a single way in which it wouldn't.

                Perhaps Bingley would throw him out, and he'd have a good excuse for not talking to Harlowe. Hesitating on the sidewalk, Cole dithered for a moment before finally forcing himself to go into the shop. It was quiet inside, as well; Natalie was dusting the back shelves and Susannah was sweeping off to the left of the shop.

                "Morning," Susannah greeted with a smile. She propped her broom against a table and moved to meet him while Natalie stared at him suspiciously from across the room. "Here for the dog?"

                "What?" Cole asked, baffled until he remembered the mechanical dog Susannah had been showing him the last time he'd been in the shop. "No. I needed to see Harlowe about the commissioned piece."

                "Ah," Susannah said. "He's not here today, and unfortunately, Master Bingley won't be in for a few hours."

                "Oh," Cole said, startled. He'd never yet managed to come to the shop on Harlowe's rare days off. "Will he be here tomorrow?"

                "Should be," Susannah confirmed, reaching out and grabbing his hand. She pulled him over to the dog's display again, and startled, Cole let her. She let go of his hand as they reached the display, and Cole closed his hand around the scrap of paper she'd left there. "Are you sure you don't want to take another look at this?"

                "Definitely sure," Cole said, giving her a smile that he didn't really feel. "I've got another appointment I must get to, but I'll try to stop back tomorrow."

                "All right," Susannah said, returning his smile pleasantly. "Have a good day."

                Cole nodded to her, and left the shop again. He walked out of sight of the front windows before opening the note Susannah had given him. There wasn't much to it, just a scrawled address, and Cole frowned at it. It wasn't Harlowe's home, as that was close to the center of the city. Well, it wasn't as though he truly had anything else to do, so Cole headed in the direction of the address on the page.

                It turned out to be a tiny little shop, squeezed between two others of similar size. There was no sign out front, and the windows were papered over to prevent anyone from looking in. It had to be Harlowe's new shop, though obviously still in the works. Cole loitered on the sidewalk outside, wondering if he should disturb Harlowe. Probably not—Harlowe didn't want him to have anything to do with it, after all. Susannah had given him the address, but did Harlowe want him to have it?

                He needed to at least apologize for Dwight. Stepping forward, Cole knocked on the door. Nothing happened for what seemed like forever, and Cole tested the door, finding it locked. Shifting from foot to foot, Cole frowned, wondering whether he should try again, or just visit Harlowe at Bingley's shop.

                "Cole?" Harlowe sounded surprised as he opened the door. There was a smear of paint across his visible cheek, and he wore a mask that Cole hadn't seen before—simpler, plainer, with no jewel embedded over his useless eye. "What are you doing here?"

                "I have to talk to you," Cole said, finding his voice after a long moment. Harlowe hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder. He probably was setting up his shop with assistance, Cole thought miserably, and didn't want Cole there at all.

                "You're ruining the surprise," Harlowe said, stepping back and holding the door open for Cole. "I didn't want anyone to see it before it was all set up."

                "You're doing it all yourself?" Cole asked, ignoring the rush of relief that came at that explanation for Harlowe's hesitance.

                "Susannah is helping. She got the display tables rented; they'll be delivered tomorrow, so I have to get the walls done today."

                The shop was larger than Cole would have given it credit for, based on the small storefront. The main shop was huge, rectangular and quite long, stretching two rooms towards the back. It was much smaller than Bingley's shop, but it had rows of windows in the ceiling, illuminating the entire room brightly. It would show well, and the smaller, more intimate setting would work well with Harlowe's style.

                There were buckets of paint stacked in a corner, and a large tarp stretching across one half-painted wall. Harlowe led the way over to it.

                "It needed a bit of work, and there's no separate workroom, but it was a good deal and I think we'll get some good foot traffic here," Harlowe said, picking up the paint roller. The wall had been a very bland beige shade, with patches to the wall showing here and there. Harlowe was painting them a very attractive light blue.

                "Where will you work, then?" Cole asked, walking further into the shop. He looked up, out the windows above. There was a door at the back of the shop, but that was probably just a small office or a second door out of the shop.

                "We're going to set up some screens near the back," Harlowe said, setting down the paint roller again and moving to join Cole near the back of the room. "Partition off a bit of space, probably from about there back." Harlowe gestured to a spot on the wall about an eighth of the way from the back wall.

                "That's not much space," Cole said, frowning. "What are you going to do with all your parts?"

                Harlowe's mouth turned down in a frown, and he surveyed the back of the room broodingly. "I don't have any parts. They're all Bingley's. I have my tools and a few pieces that I've put together using my own materials, but most of it isn't coming here."