“Jacques does not need some silly young female. And why would I need another wife?” The look he sent Thad was as dark as a storm over the Atlantic and every bit as deadly. “So you can steal her if I am a week late to port?”
He would not engage. Not here, not now. Thad stomped onto the sidewalk. “What will you do with Jack when you leave? Mrs. George cannot keep him indefinitely, not with her rheumatism.”
Mischief eased back onto Arnaud’s countenance. “True. That is why I took him to your mother.”
Though he still had a list of errands he needed to run, Thad came to a stop again. “You could not have possibly made it to Annapolis and back since I saw you this morning.”
“And you have obviously not made it home.”
Not knowing whether to laugh with joy or shout with alarm, Thad bolted for the alleyway before him—the quickest way back to his house. “Is this a visit, or did they evacuate Annapolis?” he called over his shoulder.
Arnaud’s answer was a French something-or-another in which Thad caught only “questions” and “slow down.” Ignoring that, he concentrated on darting around the children playing tag, sidestepping the dubious stream of liquid being poured from a window, and skidding around the next corner.
Home lay one more block down, where shops and town houses gave way to the more stately Federal-style edifices. He had invested in one of those solely for times like these—when his family arrived unannounced.
“Ah, Thaddeus.”
He drew up when the wispy voice reached his ears. Though he hadn’t known old Mr. Matthews as a child, the gentleman had only to frown to make him feel like a recalcitrant schoolboy. “Good day, Mr. Matthews.”
His neighbor tottered a few steps, leaning heavily on his cane. “Your parents have arrived, I see.”
A blessing, yes, but what of Father’s classes? Had the college shut down? “So it would seem.”
As the old man drew nearer, his expression came into focus. Worry deepened each well-earned crease. “They plan on a long stay, from the looks of it. Has Annapolis been evacuated?”
Thad made sure his smile shone with confidence. “I will ask them if they know how your granddaughter fares.”
A measure of peace softened the man’s brow. “I do appreciate it, Thaddeus. And tell your father I would be delighted to share a pot of tea with him later.”
“I imagine he will be along as soon as they are settled.” Thad looked up when Arnaud huffed up to them. “Ah, you decided to join me.”
His friend, wheezing, punched him in the arm.
Mr. Matthews chuckled and turned back toward his house. “You had best go greet Mrs. Lane. She is no doubt wondering where you are.”
Ever curious, Winter Reeves Lane would indeed wonder and be eager for any tidbits of intelligence he had learned since they last spoke. Which was precious little of import. At least until he laid hands on that elusive key.
None of which was relevant to his neighbor, so Thad gave a quick bow, a warm, “Good day to you, Mr. Matthews,” and turned back down the street.
Arnaud sucked in a lungful of air. “How do you move so quickly at our age?”
He had little choice but to return the punch to the arm. “Your age, perhaps, old man, but I am a mere eight-and-twenty and in the prime of my youth.”
Arnaud snorted a laugh—he was, after all, only a few months older. “I feel eighty some days, trying to keep up with Jacques.” He dragged in another deep breath and then squinted, his gaze also on the corner. “Thunder, man, did your parents bring their whole house? When I came by earlier, only your mother in the carriage had arrived. Your father had not yet come with the wagon.”
Thad focused on one of the larger objects in the wagon and let out a groan. His long legs stretched, closing the distance between him and the tall figure supervising the line of men going to and from his house. “No, no, no! Father, you didn’t.”
Bennet Lane spun around, a smile of greeting blooming full and bright as his arms spread wide. “Thaddeus! We were wondering when you might be home.”
Even as he embraced his father, Thad kept his gaze upon the loaded-down wagon. “What did you do, bring your entire laboratory?”
“Well, of course. ’Tis impossible to conduct any worthwhile experiment without one’s equipment.”
Thad winced when Henry, his housekeeper’s son-in-law, nearly bobbled a large metal something or another. Who knew what might blow up if anything were dropped? He leveled a finger at his father’s chin. “There will be no experiments in my house.”
His eyes seeking the heavens, Father shook his head. “One minor accident fifteen years ago, and you never let me live it down.”
“It was an explosion.”
“Only a small one. A trifle, really.”
Thad folded his arms over his chest. “The repercussion destroyed half of Mother’s china—”