Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

" O ur doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt," Mr. Greedy then said, still standing in his garden.

"I thought Mr. Alvin was the Crabbett Close resident who liked to quote Shakespeare?" Leo rasped out of his tight throat.

"I dabble," Mr. Greedy said.

"Here are the seedlings, Mr. Greedy," another voice said from behind Leo.

"Well now, young Lord Seddon was just asking after you, Mr. Alvin," Mr. Greedy said.

Leo sometimes thought he felt a great deal older than his actual years. However, when around the elderly Crabbett Close residents, he felt like a child in knee breeches.

"It's a mite early for the likes of you to be out of your bed, if you don't mind me saying so, my lord," Mr. Alvin said. He then stomped by Leo, who opened the gate for him, and headed up the path. Once he'd reached Mr. Greedy, he handed over the plants.

"The thing about seedlings, my lord," Mr. Alvin said, "is they need tending. Lots of nourishment and nurturing to make a go of things."

Leo was fairly sure there was a deeper meaning in the words. He just wasn't sure he was up to hearing them today.

"Indeed," he said, looking to the open doorway and hoping that Mrs. Greedy appeared shortly.

"Then, as they grow, you still have to keep an eye on them," Mr. Greedy took up the lecture. "They still need guidance. Some even need a mate to make it in the world."

And they were back to Cyn again, Leo guessed.

"Aya, take beans and peas," Mr. Alvin said.

Leo wished he was one of those people who didn't get deeper meanings to things, like Plummy, the local constable. He was a man who had no depth and took everything as it appeared. For instance, he would think these two men were discussing vegetables. Leo knew different.

They'd moved on from nurturing oneself in order to grow into a halfway decent adult to needing someone in his life to love. Namely, one Lady Lowell.

"You've the right of it, Mr. Alvin. Some things just need another half to complete them. Makes them more rounded and better vegetables," Mr. Greedy said.

Leo only just refrained from rolling his eyes now he'd recovered from Mr. Greedy's comments about lost souls. He and his siblings had been on the receiving end of many such lectures in their time in Crabbett Close. The only problem was he felt like they had an uncanny knack of hitting close to the truth, like now.

He watched as they bent to put the seedlings in the ground and hoped the lecture was done with.

"The poetry of the earth is never dead," Mr. Alvin said.

"Which means what?" Leo asked. That one had him stumped.

"John Keats wrote that to mean whether it is summer or cold winter, the music and the poetry of the nature is never dead," Mr. Greedy said.

"Well then," Leo added when nothing else came to mind. It was clearly a morning for people giving him advice.

"Here you go, my lord." Mrs. Greedy used her cane to come to him. Leo didn't move, because if he set foot inside the garden, he'd be digging holes before he knew it. Not that he minded, but this morning he was restless and needed movement.

He took the scone slathered in jam and said his thanks, tipping his hat and wishing them a good day.

"And you also, my lord. You mind our words now," Mr. Alvin said.

"Of course. I'll remember every one," Leo said. He then hurried toward the entrance to Crabbett Close, eyes down in case anyone else decided they wanted to chat with him when they should be tucked up in their beds.

"Who plants seedlings at such an hour?" he muttered before taking a large bite of scone. The floury delight made his mouth hum its appreciation. "Who gives out advice from their garden to viscounts, and why do I always stand there and take it?" Leo muttered.

He walked and ate, and when that was done, he walked some more, all the while thinking about Cyn and what he should do about her. One thing he had realized was he needed to discuss the entire situation with his family.

With no direction in mind, Leo was still restless enough to keep moving. The thing about London was that most roads led somewhere, and since he'd come to Crabbett Close, he'd spent a lot of time walking in areas he once would have never frequented.

Leo found he rather liked it.

"Good day to you, my lord. "

"Mavis," he said to the large woman overtaking him.

Leo was no slug. He walked at a swift pace and had long legs. Mavis Johns passed him as if he were standing still. Shaking his head, he took a left down a narrow lane and came out one road from the street that housed the Phoenix Agency. Beside it was the building they'd secured the lease on. Mr. Murphy would move there this week, and he would start acquainting himself with their business affairs.

Soon he was standing across the road, studying the building he would no doubt be spending many hours in over the years. His eyes then moved to the Phoenix Agency. There was no sign that anyone was awake, but of course they could be.

He knew that Lewis, who had let down his guard slightly now he knew that Leo and Ellen had helped save Lady Lowell and Miss Coulter last night, was sleeping downstairs. Leo would also suggest they hire another to watch over the house until this business with the Baddon Boys was sorted. Plus, he was going to tell Cyn she could not come here without at least two large Mulhollands accompanying her, which after yesterday, he didn't think she'd fight him on.

He saw the two men then, coming from the rear of the Phoenix Agency. He stayed where he was, undetected, watching until they'd reached the road. Once there, they stopped and spoke to each other, then walked off down the road.

Suspicious over why they'd been at the rear of the building, Leo hurried across the road and took the path down the side of the agency. Reaching the end, he descended the stairs onto the property that would take him to where he'd seen Cyn on the day she'd injured her hand. This was where Lewis was now sleeping. He smelled it then. Smoke.

Checking the entrance to the downstairs room, he saw nothing, so he walked around the exterior. When that yielded nothing too, he ran up the stairs that led to the entrance for the upper levels.

A bundle of rags had been placed by the front door. They were soaked in some kind of accelerant, and the aroma was pungent. The flames weren't exactly roaring, but they had charred the wood of the base of the door.

Leo toed the bundle away and then stomped on it until they were no longer flaming. He then kicked it back down the stairs to the dew-dampened grass.

Knocking on Lewis's door, he heard a curse, which suggested the man had walked into something. Seconds later, he was looking at Leo through blurry eyes.

"Lord Seddon." Lewis blinked a few times. His nightshirt was dark blue and came to his knees. His feet were bare, and his hair stood off his head. He looked nothing like the man of business he usually was.

"Someone just tried to set fire to this place. I have put it out, but you need to wake up now and be alert until I return. I am going to tell Lady Lowell."

"Dear Lord, the women… they, we would have all burned," Lewis said, grappling with what Leo had said.

"But no one is harmed. I will go now and return as soon as I can."

Leaving the way he'd come, Leo retraced his steps to the street. Once there, he looked for a hackney.

"Where do you wish to go, sir?" the driver asked when he'd pulled to a halt before him.

He gave the address and got inside. He'd known the Baddon Boys were ruthless. Known what they were capable of after what happened to Gray, but to burn a house down with people inside was cold-blooded murder. Something had to be done, and he would take steps to make that happen, and she would listen .

He'd seen her last night, only a few hours ago, in fact, yet the thought of doing so again was filling him with a ridiculous amount of pleasure.

"I am in so much trouble," he muttered.