Georgiana must have read his silence as a question. “I sweetened it with honey,” she told him. “No sugar.”
He hadn’t doubted. “Thank you.”
And though she drank tea, she’d given him coffee, because two hundred years ago the Horde had slipped the bugs in through sugar and tea, then put up their towers that made slaves of an entire population. He’d only had to tell her once what he would and wouldn’t eat, and she’d always provided what he needed without asking why. That was Georgiana. She hadn’t pressed him to talk about memories he’d rather forget, or of the occupation in England. Thom didn’t think about his arms being taken and replaced with iron, or the years on a boat, hauling up fish. He didn’t think of the frenzies and the revolution. All that was done. He’d left England behind and found himself in Skagen, where he’d tried to make the sort of life that other men did, men who hadn’t been born under the boot of the Horde.
He’d tried and failed. Thom was his own master now. But he would never be what other men were.
Holding her mug cupped between her hands, Georgiana watched him eat, her green eyes steady and calm. “You’ll need to speak with the magistrate about the bullet wound.”
Mouth full, he nodded.
“Who shot you?”
“I ran into pirates,” he said between bites.
“Your crew?”
There was no crew. Thom shook his head, but his mouth was full again, and she went on before he could answer.
Her voice troubled, she asked, “And Oriana?”
“Stolen.”
Along with his new submersible, and a fortune in gold coins. His throat closed, making it impossible to swallow.
It was time to tell her that this was done.
But he couldn’t yet. He couldn’t meet Georgiana’s eyes now, either. His gaze dropped to the bowl. Still mostly full, but he couldn’t eat. And there was one question that still had to be asked before he could leave. “It’s been some years since I was here.”
Just the corners of her mouth tilted upward, as they did when her humor was sharp. “Yes, it has.”
“Was there a child?” He had to force it out. “The last time.”
“It’s difficult to conceive a child when your husband spills his seed on the way out the door.”
Heat rushed to his face. He hadn’t actually spent on the floor, but the way he’d rushed out of the room to escape the pain and shame of hurting her, he might as well have. “And your father, mother?”
Her smile disappeared. Her thick lashes swept down. Quietly, she said, “They’re gone.”
“Gone?” Thom stared at her. “Dead?”
“Yes.”
When she looked up again, moisture had pooled in her eyes. She abruptly rose from the table to pace its length. No task to complete. Just upset.
“How long ago?” His voice was rough.
“A month after you came home last. The lump fever swept through town. They both caught it.”
Almost four years ago. So Thom’s failure was worse than he’d known. Raised in a Horde crèche, he didn’t know what it was to have a mother or father. But he knew she had loved them. Losing them must have ripped her heart to shreds.
“I should have been here.”
“Yes.”
Her soft reply was a heavy condemnation. Thom knew he’d never stop feeling its weight. “Who’s been supporting you, Georgie?”
“I have been, Thom. Sea Bloom came into my possession. I made use of her.”