the rain from his cloak and removed his hat, eyeing Donovan’s face and the fading bruises as he did. There would be a scar on his brow, but it didn’t seem as if any other marks would be visible. “You look well enough, all things considered,” Marek said.
“Aye, so do you,” Donovan said. “New coat?”
Marek looked down. “No.”
Donovan smiled wryly. “Come in. She’ll be down soon. Never seen a woman so eager to visit the docks.”
Marek silently followed him into the drawing room.
“Drink?” Donovan asked. “Whiskey? Tea?”
Marek shook his head. He wished Donovan would quietly disappear so that he could take Hollis into his arms. But Donovan sat when she came bounding in the door, her face a wreath of smiles.
“Good morning, Marek!”
“Mrs....” He stopped himself, painfully aware that Donovan was watching him. “Hollis,” he said. He felt something and glanced down. The yellow cat was twining through his legs.
“Buttercup likes you!” she said with delight. “Buttercup never likes anyone, does she, Donovan? How are you this morning, Marek?”
“Very well. And you?”
“I won’t lie—my head hurt something fierce this morning. But Mrs. Plum has a concoction that will cure all ills and I am feeling much improved. Shall we go?”
“Are you certain? The weather is dreadful.”
“I am very certain! If ever there was a day to find four men, it would be today, don’t you think? No doubt they are tucked away in an inn or...someplace. Donovan has some ideas of where to look.”
Marek glanced at Donovan.
“What she means is that I know of places where men of questionable character and motive will congregate.”
That’s rather what Marek thought she meant. “I don’t think it’s wise for you to accompany us,” he said to Hollis.
Donovan suddenly stood up. “Save your breath, Mr. Brendan. Mrs. Honeycutt only grows more determined with every protest or suggestion to the contrary of her wishes. A more stubborn woman you’ll not meet.”
Marek must be growing accustomed to this strange house and the stranger relationship between Hollis and Donovan, because he was not at all surprised or taken aback, and neither was Hollis. In fact, she laughed as if that amused her. And, he noted, she did not deny it. “Is the carriage ready?” she asked.
“I’ll see,” Donovan said, and went out of the room.
The moment he passed through the doorway, Marek strode across the room to where Hollis stood, grabbed her hand, and pulled her close to kiss her cheek. And then her mouth. “You look remarkably well.”
She beamed up at him. “How could I look anything less after last night? You look very well, too.”
“It’s come round!” Donovan called down the hall.
Marek was reluctant to take his gaze from her, but with another flash of a smile, Hollis went out of the room. He followed her, and while Donovan helped her into her cloak and bonnet, he put on his own.
“Ready, then?” Hollis asked, and when Marek nodded, the three of them dashed out in the rain and stuffed themselves into the landaulet, and the hired driver ferried them down to the docks.
Their first stop was a public house, The Siren’s Song. “What potions have I drunk of siren tears?” Hollis murmured.
“A sonnet,” Marek said.
She smiled. “Yes.”
“I thought I was the only one to have been made to listen to readings of Shakespeare,” Donovan said. “Shall we, Mr. Brendan?”
“Je. And Mrs. Honeycutt will remain here,” he said, and pinned her with a look before she protested. “Don’t even think to argue.”
She leaned forward to look out the small window. She groaned but did not argue. Donovan gave Marek the slightest nod of approval. They were from two different parts of the world, but they were united in this—a public house called The Siren’s Song on a public dock was no place for Hollis Honeycutt.
Unsurprising, given the wretched weather, men and barmaids were practically stacked to the rafters. The deep rumble of male voices mixed with the high pitch of women’s laughter thudded against Marek’s good ear. With a grimace, he and Donovan squeezed through the crowd.
Donovan looked very much at home here. He had the walk of a dandy, smiling at men and women alike. They made their way to a scarred wooden bar in back. Donovan braced against it and leaned forward to speak to a man behind the bar. The barkeep responded with a shake of his head. Donovan said something else. Again, the man shook his head.
Donovan turned to Marek and spoke, but Marek shook his head and pointed at his ear.