I am aware of discrepancies in the story line but with my track record of unfinished work I will finish and edit. Sorry for the problems.
Samuel Colt insisted in escorting the old man to his nephew's house, Diego had frozen momentarily. He hadn't forewarned his friend, and the whole act might be in jeopardy.
He covered it with effusive manners and a weak refusal of assistance. He knew that the other man would not let him off that easily, and while they were changing horses at a coach house, he quickly scrawled a note and offered a dusty little boy a coin for delivering it as quickly as he could run, and another coin when he did deliver it. The child was about to shake his head, but Diego handed him the silver peso. Eyebrows went up and the child was another creature altogether. He had never seen anything move so fast.
"Do you need a little more rest?" Colt said with concern. "Sit back down near the fire. You look cold."
Diego couldn't work out if Colt had seen anything that had destroyed his cover, or if he was just a man who saw looking after the elderly as a personal duty. Either way he had to keep his wits about him if he was to survive the next few days. His shoulder was aching, and the need for rest tugged at his mind.
"Thank you young sir," Diego managed to murmur in an elderly a voice as he could muster, moving awkwardly to one of the large armchairs by the fire. "Your assistance is very welcome, but most assuredly unnecessary. My nephew will come for me at the next stop."
"I will not leave you unattended if he doesn't." Diego tried not to frown too much at that. Did young people interfere this much normally in the affairs of their elders? He'd have to remember not to be so solicitous in the future when he dealt with the elderly.
"Very well," Diego said, with resignation. "Will you ask the attendant to provide me with a mug of coffee, Mr Colt?"
He sat and stared at the red, orange and yellow flames for a few moments as he waited for the drink.
He woke from a light doze when Colt rested a hand on his shoulder, placing the coffee on the side table.
"Are you sure you are well, Mr Montgolfier?"
"Just the infirmities of age, young man." Diego took a sip of the strong coffee, and hoped he would stay awake long enough to reach his 'nephew's' home and relative safety.
They were about to board the coach for the last leg of the journey, when Paul Drake arrived in his own coach. Colt recognised him and waved him over.
"Your uncle looks a little drained with the journey, sir."
"Uncle! We were worried about you. Looked everywhere for you," Paul said as he assisted Diego out the door and into his own carriage.
"Thank you, sir for caring for him." Paul shut the door and turned to Colt, giving him his full attention. "My uncle has been feeling particularly infirm these last couple of weeks. Pray tell me, what did he introduce himself as? Whose name did he use?"
"Montgolfier?"
Paul smiled. "Yes, I thought as much. My uncle was once a brilliant scholar, and still shows glimpses of what he was before age took hold of him. His wits are almost completely gone, but he did have a great interest in that family. They were balloon enthusiasts, several brothers, and one has recently passed away. Someone must have talked about them in my uncle's hearing, and he used it in his latest confusion. He is my uncle on my mother's side, but we are the only family he has left. I feel very responsible for him in his last days."
Colt looked startled and then smiled as well. "I thought I recognised the name, but I couldn't place it. Italian family?"
"French I believe."
Colt farewelled the young man, and Paul Drake entered his carriage.
"I heard all that," Diego said.
"It was a better scenario than you had started with," Paul said. "He would have realised where the name came from eventually. Now he will further underestimate you if he meets you in future, in this form."
"I suppose you are wondering what is going on," Diego said.
"Anything is better than planning a dinner party with my sisters," Paul said, interest growing in his eyes. "Tell me everything, friend. How about you start with shedding some of the disguise, so I can finally see you? After corresponding for so long, you forget we have never set eyes on each other."
Diego pulled the false beard from his chin, wincing a little at the brief pain left from the adhesive. He rubbed some of the stage makeup away and sat up a lot straighter. The old man vanished as he flicked his fingers through his hair, turning grey back to shiny dark in moments. He stretched his aching shoulders, and back, looking and feeling more like himself.
"Impressive," Paul murmured.
Diego did a slight seated bow. "Best in my class for theatre...as well as other subjects," he said with a shrug. He suppressed a groan, as his hand went to his injured left shoulder.
Paul's eyebrows went up but he didn't comment on Diego's obvious discomfort.
"It's about an hour til we arrive, get some sleep, Diego. You look like you probably need it."
zzz
When they arrived at Paul's San Francisco's townhouse, he helped Diego disembark, and handed him over to the butler.
"I want him lying down in a warm bed, Whitmore. Don't listen to his fussing. Get someone to send for the doctor," Paul said, swinging into action in the foyer.
"It is a scratch, this is an overreaction, Paul. I need to keep watching Colt."
"Blood was seeping through the bandage," Paul said, shaking his head. "Not a scratch. Whitmore, get him upstairs. I have to let my mother know I am home." Paul opened and closed the door to the drawing room, leaving Diego with the serious looking butler.
"Come along, sir. You know it is sensible," Whitmore said sternly, reminding Diego of his old tutor. As a young teenager he had gotten into minor accidents that his father had long forgotten, or was never aware of. His tutor had stepped in, fetched the doctor when appropriate, and governed him until he learned enough skills to control his de la Vega impulses.
Diego sighed with resignation, and obeyed.
"Yes, I know it is sensible, Whitmore," Diego said, fighting his exhaustion. He had kept changing the bandages, continuing with basic wound care, but he was tired. Rest would do him a world of good, but he did need to find out more about what was going on. Colt had the answers or the means to get them.