Waiting had never been Kit's strong suit. To him, waiting was a fool's game. Why wait for something he could just take himself? He'd always been someone who moved quickly, without thinking, and oftentimes that landed him in trouble. Still, he knew the prize he would win for waiting. The motorcar of his dreams was within his reach. All he had to do was wait for the opportunity to take it.

That was the hard part.

Being confined to the bed with his leg injury didn't help matters. Kit hated sitting still almost as much as he hated waiting for things. Since he was a child, Kit was always on the move, always running from one place to another. At school, he would get in trouble for wiggling too much in his chair and being stuck in bed with no way of walking around became a bane after just a few hours.

The first two days, he did his best to be the model patient. He made no attempt to get out of bed, tried to be as polite as possible to whoever gave him food, and tried to keep himself distracted. Often he found his mind drifting to Emily Masters. She intrigued him. There was a sense of mystery to her that Kit didn't quite understand. He wanted to know more about the mysterious girl who stayed at his bedside despite her father's instructions.

By the third day, the small degree of enjoyment he had from being waited on hand and foot like royalty disappeared. Five months in Newgate had left him with an itch he desperately wanted to scratch. He needed to get out of the Masters' household, and soon.

"Come on, Kit. Time to move."

Despite the throbbing in his leg, Kit managed to manoeuvre himself into a standing position. The smallest amount of weight on his right leg almost sent him crashing to the ground, but he'd dealt with much worse. He shuffled across the room to an oak dresser that he hoped contained something other than the night clothes he'd been placed into. Inside, he found a crisp white shirt, dark brown trousers, a matching jacket, and his flat cap.

Kit dressed as quickly as his aching body would allow him. He glanced briefly at the splatter of different colour bruises that covered his hip and thigh. But they would heal. Once or twice he fell into the dresser, a loud crashing sound echoing through the room. He held his breath, the white shirt dangling from his hand, and listened for footsteps outside the door.

The sound of a lone pair of light, almost musical footsteps, drifted through the door. Kit paused. They didn't sound like footsteps belonging to Mr Masters, and if it was one of the servants, he could easily overpower them. His bedroom door swung open, not revealing the servant, but Emily Masters.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," she said, her eyes widening a little at his lack of shirt.

Kit laughed, unable to help himself, and pulled the shirt on. "And I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be in here."

"My father is at work, and he is not my keeper."

"Could've fooled me."

"Are you going somewhere?" Emily Masters took a step into the room, watching Kit secure the buttons on his shirt. "Father said you're not to leave."

"I'm not known for doing what I'm told. Consider it a fatal flaw." He shrugged, shuffling across the floor and ignoring the pain in his leg.

"You won't get very far with your leg like that."

Kit looked at her, a small smile tugging on his lips and a slight raise of his eyebrow. Emily met his stare. She didn't appear to be the small, submissive girl he assumed her to be at that first meeting. Unlike that day, she didn't shrink away or press herself against the wall. She met his eye, held his stare, and appeared more curious than wary. Kit's intrigue rose.

"What's it to do with you, anyway?"

"My father thinks you were up to something. He doesn't think you bought the ring yourself and believes the bruises were less of a misunderstanding than you are letting on."

"And what do you think?"

Emily shrugged. "I don't know what to think."

"I could be a hardened criminal for all you know. You ain't scared I'll hurt you?"

"With a leg like that, I could just push you over."

"You could." Kit laughed. He shook his head a little, but kept his gaze focused on Emily. "Tell me, what's a nice girl like you doing spending time talking with scum like me? Shouldn't you be doing something more ladylike?"

"Father would say the same, but he is not here. Perhaps I am not the nice girl you think I am. This is only our second meeting, and first impressions can often be deceiving."

"Hm, I'm starting to realise that."

"Where will you go? If you can make it out of here without being caught, though, I'm not sure if such a thing is possible. You should be lucky I heard you fumbling around in here and not Mrs Johnson."

"Anywhere is better than here." Kit perched himself on the edge of the bed and made an attempt to tie his fraying shoelaces, but the pain in his side made it near impossible to do so."

"What about the ring? Do you not need it?"

Kit paused, the shoelace in hand. In his desperate attempt to flee the Masters' household, he'd forgotten about the ring. Selling the ring would provide him enough money to get a roof over his head for a few nights until he and Rob decided on their next moves. The ring was the only thing standing between him and a night on the streets or sharing a room with Rob — something he swore to never do again.

Then there was the motorcar. If Emily was telling the truth, and he had little reason to believe otherwise, then the motorcar would have left with Mr Masters. His dream motorcar was now within his grasp and he would be a fool to let the opportunity slip away. He hated the idea of waiting any longer, but he had no choice.

"Where is the ring?"

"Father took it to work with him, though I do not know why."

Kit nodded, scratching his chin and tugging on his bottom lip. "Then I suppose I'm staying here for a little while longer."

~~~

First Published - February 2nd, 2024