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A short time later, he went downstairs in search of food. And yes, he had on a proper shirt. One of his best shirts, actually. Not that he had many. But let’s see what Albie Bramwell thought of him now.
What he thought of him was not much apparently, because, for the next hour or so, Albie sat there and talked to Elsie, the barmaid. Looking too comfortable and he even laughed, and she touched his shoulder, leaving him to eat his stew and bread.
He’d said he knew her, so Percy shouldn’t have been surprised.
No, he wasn’t surprised.
He was jealous and disappointed, which made no sense on either part. Because Percy had never met another man like himself. That had impure thoughts of other men. They all only had eyes for women, which was fine and understandable, and oh, how Percy sometimes wished he did too. His life would be so much easier. He’d still be at home, getting married as his parents had wanted. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t lie to himself or to the poor girl he was supposed to marry?—
“What business is it of yours?” Albie said.
Percy whipped his head around to see a man standing at Albie’s table. He’d seen this man around town before, though he didn’t know his name.
“Because you’re a boy, Bramwell.”
“I’ll not have my father’s name sullied because you don’t think me worthy,” Albie said, standing up. He was a fraction taller than the other man but not as wide. The other man looked hard-worn and strong. Though that didn’t seem to worry Albie because he wasn’t backing down. He stared him dead in the eye, fierce as anything. “The deeds are mine, my father’s family name is mine, and you’ll need to take both over my cold, dead body.”
The man grabbed Albie’s shirt and Percy was up and off his seat without thinking. He stood between them, staring at the man whose name he still didn’t know. “You don’t get to call him a boy, then try and fight him. Unless you only fight boys? If you fight men, like a real man, then admit that’s what you consider him. You don’t get it both ways.”
Elsie was there then, with her shoulders back, spine straight, voice stern. “Peter Winnicott, I’ll not have any of this nonsense in this bar, you hear? You want to start something, take it outside.”
Albie raised his chin as if he was okay with that, but Percy pushed him back. “No, there’ll be no fighting.” He gave Elsie an apologetic nod. “Sorry.”
Peter Winnicott grunted and grumbled, giving Percy a scathing glare as he turned and walked away, and Percy’s breath left him in a rush.
“I didn’t need your help,” Albie said.
“You were about to need a doctor,” Percy murmured. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Albie straightened his shirt, collecting himself with a few deep breaths. “If he only fights men then admit that’s what you consider him, huh?”
Percy winced. “Yeah. Sorry. But this whole boy nonsense really yanks my chain,” he grumbled. “I get nothing but condescending, scornful—” He had to stop himself from ranting, but he knew all too well the prejudice Albie faced because he faced it too. “I’m a grown man, as much as any of them. Same as you. I’m not a child anymore.”
Albie studied Percy for a long second, and Percy could barely make himself meet his gaze. He was mad now. Mad for Albie, mad for himself.
Until Albie smirked. “I can’t offer much in the way of wages just yet, but I’ve got the work for you and a roof over your head and a stable for your horse if you want it. I’m leaving after breakfast. If you want the job, you’ll be ready when I am.”
Percy grinned, feeling true happiness and a glimmer of hope for the first time in far too long. “Absolutely. I’ll be there. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.”
Chapter Three
Albie walked into the dining area of the hotel to the smell of a fresh wood fire and baking bread. “Morning,” Elsie said, greeting him warmly. “Trust you slept well?”
“I did, thank you. Just letting you know I’ll be off now,” he furthered, putting the large stash of his wares on a table. “Just wanted to say thanks.”
Clara came out from the kitchen holding a small brown paper parcel. She was timid, always had been, but Elsie gave her a reassuring nod, and Clara handed the parcel to Albie. “For your travels,” she said, her voice quiet.
Elsie gave her a proud smile, and Albie had often wondered about the two of them. Where one was, the other was never far behind. Clara was the quiet and meek little mouse and Elsie was the fierce, protective cat. He’d never dared to question their relationship, though he did wonder if perhaps they only had eyes for each other.
The same way he only had eyes for men.
He looked in the wrapped parcel to find two thick cuts of fresh bread, still warm from the oven. “Two? I don’t need two,” he said, starting to pat down his pockets for some coin.
Elsie put her hand on his arm. “One for you, one for your travelling partner,” she said, giving a pointed glance to the far window. Sure enough, there was Percy with his horse, fixing his saddle.
He’s on time, anyway. Always a good sign.
“Say,” Albie began. “What do you know of him?”
