“Huh.” Argus smiled that smile that made Brant uneasy. “Do not believe I said the same about you.” He grunted and whipped around to glare at the tall woman behind him. “Aunty Gone, what are you doing here?”
“Do not call me that foolish name,” she said without heat and then looked at Brant. “I came because of Ilar. He needs to know how his mother fares and he is not yet allowed into the city. To bring him into this turmoil as well would be even worse.”
Brant bowed to Olympia’s aunt Antigone. “All seem to believe she will be fine. She lost a lot of blood though.”
“Sepitmus and Stefan are up there,” said Argus.
She nodded. “Good. Fetch me some of that brandy, Argus.”
Much to Brant’s surprise, Argus obeyed without hesitation. He turned to Antigone only to find her staring at Olympia’s four waifs from the streets of London. Before he could tell her who they were, she marched over to them and stared hard at young Giles Green.
“Orion!” she snapped.
Unable to resist, Brant followed Orion over to Antigone’s side. He knew Agatha was right with him and briefly considered telling her to wait. Then he considered all she had gone through in her young life and said nothing. She might still need protection in many ways, but not from the scandalous or ugly parts of life.
“Yes, Aunt?” Orion looked at the boy she was pointing to. “Ah, one of the ones who makes a habit of stealing my carriages.”
“I am not surprised,” said Antigone. “He is of your blood.” Ignoring how pale Orion had gone, she looked at Giles and tilted her head. “Definitely of your blood. How old are you, lad?”
“Eight,” answered Giles. “Just turned it, we think. Not too sure when I was born for I was still no more than a babe in arms when my mam left me in the alley. I did have a note on a ribbon round my neck. Said my name was Giles Green.” He eyed Orion warily. “What do you mean I am of his blood?”
“Just what I said. He is your father.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do, lad. I can always scent a Wherlocke or Vaughn touch in the blood and, if I think on it real hard, I can tell which one of the rogues left that touch. With you, it was this rogue. Sir Orion Wherlocke who was obviously misbehaving as always about eight years and ten months ago.” She looked at Orion who had begun to regain his composure. “Do you even recall a lass with the name of Green?”
“I am certain I will figure out who his mother is before long,” said Orion.
Antigone nodded and then started toward the door. “I need to see how Olympia fares.”
Before she reached the door, however, Enid stepped into the room and announced, “My lady is fine. The wound has been tended to and the doctor says she will heal nicely if she takes it easy, rests as she should, and eats well. She is awake right now if any of you wish to say a word or two, but keep the visit short.”
Before Brant could move Argus strode out of the room with Antigone at his side. He sighed and looked for a seat in the crowded room. It would be awhile before he could go and see Olympia. Her family would take precedence over him, as they should when he was not officially attached to her in any way. He smiled at his sister when she squeezed in beside him on the settee that also held Orion and Giles, who were talking in low voices as they became acquainted with each other.
Brant looked at the other boys and felt a pang. They looked pleased for Giles but that happiness had a touch of sadness behind it. Abel looked the saddest and Brant realized it was because the older boy had been almost a father to Giles, raising him from that babe in arms left in an alley. He hoped Orion was the type of man to understand the bond the four boys had.
“I think Sir Wherlocke will see that he must aid all of the boys, Brant, and not just take the one away from them,” said Agatha in a voice soft enough to carry only to his ears.
“I hope so,” Brant replied with equal softness and then glanced toward the door.
“You will see her soon.”
Soon turned out to be four hours later. Not wishing to drink too much brandy, Brant had begun to drink tea and was heartily sick of it by the time the relatives had ceased to visit, Olympia had had another rest, and he was finally allowed in to see her. He stepped up to the side of the bed and much of his fear for her eased when she smiled at him.
“You do not have a family; you have an army,” he said, then felt guilty for making her laugh when she winced and lightly touched her heavily bandaged shoulder. “I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“Well, just now, for making you laugh. But, I am sorry you got pulled into this tragedy.”
“Agatha is safe now as are a lot of children. A bullet wound in the shoulder is a very small price to pay for that.”
“True but I would wish you had remained safe. I wish I could have kept you safe.”