Chapter 23
Laurel recognized me at once. Even in that state, she took me in from head to toe before stumbling toward me and dropping in a heap at my feet.
She wailed, clinging to the hem of my dress as it grazed the ground. Kirhin, his arm held out to shield me, knitted his brows. The burly thug stepped closer.
Brushing aside her disheveled hair, Laurel looked up at Kirhin with a coy, crinkling smile. The flirtatiousness laced in that gaze made me freeze stiff. Turning back toward me, her eyes darted about frantically.
The moment her withered, twig-like hand lunged to snatch the perfume bottle dangling from my sash, I slapped her hand away without a second thought.
Clutching the bottle, I drew back defensively. Laurel stared at me, thoroughly dumbfounded. A wave of betrayal and despair surged through her brown eyes.
“Aaargh!”
Yanking hard on Laurel's trailing hair, the man gave an exaggerated bow. As Laurel let out a shriek of agony, I balled my fists to step forward, but two coins flew through the air and hit the cobblestones.
I turned to Kirhin, who was chiming in with an easy, unbothered tone. He offered the men a grin.
Snatching up the coins, the man eyed Kirhin and me with sudden intrigue.
I knew their kind: lackeys for loan sharks. If they suspected House Beekman had any real tie to Laurel, they would not hesitate to reach their claws toward the barony.
Resting his hand on my shoulder, Kirhin gave me a reassuring pat. One of the men broke into a grin, flashing blackened teeth.
Seeing Kirhin offer a wry smile as he reached into his coat for his purse, I put a hand out to stop him and cut in.
I felt Kirhin freeze beside me. This was a test. They were testing to see how far House Beekman would go for Laurel's sake.
Four fedir was no small sum. If he readily parted with that kind of coin, they would assume Laurel's claim held weight.
I glared straight at the startled men and held out a flat palm, demanding the coins back. The black-toothed man studied my eyes for a moment, then snorted and took a step back.
Winking, the men parted the crowd and sauntered off. Watching them go, I lowered my hand. Kirhin blinked his wide eyes and whispered to me.
He had tapped my shoulder as though soothing me, but I knew he had been wound tight with nerves. It reminded me of the time he broke me out of the cell.
Kirhin had acted like a grand, fearless lord back then too, but it had all been bravado; the moment he stepped outside, his legs had given out and he collapsed, barely able to draw a breath.
Hearing my remark, Kirhin let out a wry chuckle and nudged my arm.
I gave a dry scoff at his playful whining, but a frail voice broke in.
Struggling to her feet, Laurel offered Kirhin a polite curtsy. Her head tilted slightly, her demure gaze swept over him. Kirhin was looking back at her with open curiosity. Tearing my eyes away from the pair, I spoke.
Shivering, Laurel wrapped her arms around her frail shoulders, her eyes brimming with tears. Seeing them spill over made my chest tighten, and I asked cautiously.
The thugs' words rang in my ears. I already knew Laurel had been supporting her actor lover at the theater. But I had no idea she had run up debts.
Her dwindling voice dissolved into quiet sobs. I stared at Laurel as she sat slumped on the ground, weeping under the gaze of the crowd.
She had been the cleverest woman at the washing place and had read countless books, yet she had not made clever choices. Senar seemed better off by comparison. Even assuming both of them had their insides eaten away by misery, at least Senar seemed to have something tangible to show for it.
Yet I was in no position to lend Laurel a hand either. I was dressed in fine clothes and adorned with expensive trinkets, but not a single piece could truly be called mine.
As I tried to gather my thoughts on what to do, Kirhin's voice cut in. Letting out a small yawn, he gave a shrug.
Come to think of it, he had mentioned being peckish before all this started. Regrettably, it was time to part ways with Laurel.
Turning to her with a troubled face, I froze. Down on one knee, Kirhin was holding out a hand to Laurel.
“If you aren't otherwise engaged, why not join us? It will help you calm your nerves.”
Color rushed back into Laurel's dust-streaked, tear-stained cheeks. Fighting back her delight, she glanced warily in my direction before answering.
Giving her no room to refuse, Kirhin helped Laurel to her feet and set off with a swagger. Watching him in a daze, I turned my head at the soft laugh that brushed against my ear. Laurel was smiling at me.
Her voice was languid, damp, and tickled my ear. I looked down at her dust-covered hand clasping and patting mine. An indefinable displeasure seeped through me, spreading like water through paper. Once inside the mansion, Laurel tried her best not to look stunned, but she couldn't hide the rapid heaving of her chest. Her excitement seemed to bleed right over into me.
Nina wore an expression that suggested her troubles had just doubled, yet she briskly urged the head chef to prepare the meal. Ever since Damian had reprimanded her, she hadn't been kind to me, but she refrained from showing open hostility.
Having washed her face and changed out of her ruined clothes with the help of a maid, Laurel took a seat, wearing a bashful expression. Because the clothes had been tailored to fit me, they hugged her slender frame in a suggestive way, accentuating her generous bust.
At Kirhin's gentle reply, Laurel's smile deepened a fraction.
Only then did I recall a rumor I had heard in the past. A rumor that the second son of House Beekman, fond of women as he was, had once made advances toward Laurel as well. The two of them were already acquainted.
