That provoked a reaction at least, in the form of an almighty put-upon sigh.“Remind me how long I have to tolerate your presence?”
“Another ten weeks, two days, and—” Rollo glanced at the longcase clock.“—approximately eleven hours assuming I make an early start.”He threw Lord Lyndon a wry look.“Believe me, you’re not the only one counting.”
“Have you filed your first report yet?”
“What?What report?”
Lord Lyndon took another long swallow.“Your report on my welfare.You’ve been sent here to poke around.To spy on me.On behalf of my brother.”
“I’ve been sent here to do nothing of the sort,” Rollo retorted, flummoxed.“I’m here to reflect on my own poor behaviour, repent, and vow to do better.A lesson I’ve already absorbed.”He wrinkled his brow.“Another ten weeks feels quite excessive.”
“You send out regular letters though.”Lord Lyndon sounded as if he’d caught Rollo out.He raked his fingers through his pile of arrows, deciding which to select.They all looked the same to Rollo, and by that, he meant equally lethal.“Twice weekly.To your brother and your father.In addition to penning one to my brother, the duke.”
And this man had the audacity to accuse Rollo of being a spy?“What of it?I merely wrote to His Grace thanking him for his generosity in affording me this wonderful opportunity to spend my summer basking in your exquisite company.Regarding my father and brother, my letters—”
“Reports,” cut in his lordship emphatically.“Not letters.”
“Letters,” Rollo insisted.“To my brother I write dull, endless letters, filled with nothing.I describe Norfolk, in other words.And to my father, I pretend that I am having a marvellous stay.He tolerates most sentiments; however, lamenting one’s privileged situation when less fortunate people are starving in the streets is the exception.”
It occurred to Rollo that the four walls of his bedchamber weren’t so terrible after all.Except that when he made to rise, he suddenly found himself at the menacing, pointy end of a nocked arrow.Level with the blunt fletching, one of Lord Lyndon’s half-closed, heavy-lidded eyes lined the thing up directly at him.
“Stop that at once!I’m not one of your pewter soldiers!”
“No.”His gaze swivelled towards the mantel, then back to Rollo.“I have no need to question their integrity.”
“Nor mine.”Fuelled with rage, Rollo raised himself to his full, unimpressive height and addressed the man, doing his darndest to block out the weapon now fixed directly at the centre of his forehead.His heart beat fit to burst out of his chest.
“My lord,” he began, his voice trembling.“I am a Duchamps-Avery.From a long line of distinguished Duchamps-Averys.My family can be traced back to the Domesday Book and far beyond.Whilst I am not the wisest, oldest, largest, or strongest of my line, I have the heart of a lion and the backbone of a…another very large creature.You will not accuse me of spying on my host, you will not piss in the fireplace in my company, you will not question my integrity, and most of all, you will not point that beastly, pathetic children’s weapon between my eyes.
“I have no idea why you are so obnoxiously miserable, nor why you waste your every evening alone in this drawing room in a drunken haze.Frankly, I do not care.But I shall tell you this.As God as my witness, how a man chooses to run his affairs is his own private business.And whilst I believe you to be of questionable character and barely clinging to sound reason, my father and your brother shall never hear of it.”
And on that note, he flounced out.Before his knees gave way.
Chapter Seven
My dearest Willoughby.I fear Fitzsimmons is quite insane, and it might be catching, given that I’m voluntarily returning to his lair tonight.The man is a ferocious beast—I’m playing with veritable fire.I’ll have no one but myself to blame if I get burned.Yet there are secrets to be unearthed here at Goule, Fitzsimmons the most intriguing of them all.Only by provoking him will he reveal his true self.
Papa.Lord Lyndon has a riveting interest in archery.And an impressive collection of hand-carved arrows.
SUMMONING EVERY OUNCEof nerve, Rollo once more positioned himself on the settee, with Lord Lyndon slumped in his usual chair opposite.
“Waving the bow at you was poor form,” his host announced, directing this microscopic sliver of insight to the fireplace.Rollo waited for an apology to follow.It did not come.
“Waving?”he prompted.“Or purposefully lining me up in your sights?”
“The latter.”Lord Lyndon sounded as far from apologetic as a man could get.“I do not relish house guests, and I was half-cut.”
“Your explanation is a poor excuse,” replied Rollo coldly.“Though I suppose one must amuse oneself somehow here in Norfolk.What with the never-ending…nothingness.It’s enough to drive one to insanity.”
“At the risk of being a contrarian—” Lord Lyndon took a measured sip of his brandy.“—I find the loneliness and solitude here at Goule clears my mind.Norfolk possesses a soaring majesty.Perhaps you are too much of a simpleton to see it.”
The man was toying with him, Rollo realised.Needling was a game.If Rollo said black, his host would counter with white.Lord Lyndon, a rich, bored aristocrat, for reasons unbeknownst, harboured a deep-seated anger towards Rollo, the fireplace, toy pewter soldiers, and possibly anything and anybody else with the temerity to approach him.The man was lonely, unloved, and unloving.And with that flash of insight, and the secure knowledge that Rollo was none of those things, his habitual boldness returned.
“Forgive me for being so brash, but I don’t believe you,” he said.“I believe you tell yourself that story.But the truth of the matter is, like me, you’ve been exiled to this godforsaken place thanks to even poorer form up in theton.And whereas I am swallowing my bitter pill with good grace, my lord, you are mightily furious about it.”
“Exiled?”The man gave a coarse puff of laughter.“Hardly.And Goule Hall ismybloody house!My brother may be the largest landowner in England, pup, but he has no say in the running of these few hundred acres.Our grandfather entailed this particular property to me!”
“Then I stand corrected.”Rollo nodded primly.“But deduce that your grandfather can’t have been terribly fond of you.”
