Chapter Twenty-Four
NEVER HAD THErain inspired so much fear.Never had thunderclouds felt so ominous.The marshes were awash; it was relentless.It felt like the end of the world.
And Rollo Duchamps-Avery, second son of the eleventh earl, did not come.
Chapter Twenty-Five
BERRIDGE ORDERED GREAVES, who delegated to Jack, to send for Will.
Will duly appeared.“It has been more than six weeks, Lyndon.He promised he’d be here after three.You’ve heard nothing.He might be ill!Or dead!Or he could be absolutely fine and have a perfectly reasonable explanation for his absence.It could be something as simple as a letter going astray.At least if you attempted some form of communication yourself, then you’d know.”
A stray arrow pinged off the mantel.“Buggeration,” Lyndon slurred, awash with brandy.“These arrows haven’t been carved straight.”
“Just swallow your pride and bloody write to him!”
“No.”Lyndon let another arrow loose.It landed perilously close to Will’s chair.Will swore.
“Right.I’ve had enough.Ring for Jack to take me home, please.I’m not wasting another afternoon like this.”
“You’ve only just got here!”
“And I’m ready to go home!”
“Everybody strives to leave me in the end,” Lyndon garbled.“Even you.”He laughed mirthlessly.“And you can scarcely bloody move.”
“Don’t be so daft.I’m going two hundred yards down the road.But if you continue to make heartless comments like that, you’ll find two hundred yards change into a veritable ocean.”
“I am heartless,” Lyndon growled.“That damned boy has cut it out and taken it for himself.”
“And if you weren’t so stubborn, you could strive to win it back.Instead, you’re wallowing in brandy, His Majesty’s 1st Dragoons, and execrable art.”
“Go away.”
“I shall, don’t worry.And I shan’t return until Jack brings word that you’ve pulled yourself together.Actually, don’t expect me to return any time soon, whether you have come to your senses or not.”
Lyndon jerked his head up.Losing Will as well was too much.If only he wasn’t so foxed, he’d dredge up his manners and have a crack at apologising.
“Buggeration,” Lyndon announced, instead, firing off an arrow.“Buggeration to all of you.Don’t bother returning at all.Ever.”
Well-versed in Lyndon’s flashes of poor temper, Will merely tutted.“Calm yourself, old friend.You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.My second cousin, Lucinda, is taking me to visit a dying aunt in Norwich.Which will be far more entertaining than watching you fall apart at the seams.”
“I’m not.”
“You most certainly are.”
Lyndon fired another arrow, not caring where it landed.“You’re right.I am.”
He was.Lyndon was unravelling like that old red dress, his whole being loosening and fraying at the seams.Soon, he’d be nothing but a messy ball of yarn rolling around the dusty nursery floorboards, watched over by a heap of ugly paintings and stinking of brandy.And there was nothing he could do to halt it.
“He’s not coming back,” he pronounced.“Is he?”
Will sighed.“It is certainly looking that way.And I’m sorry about that.Youth is a fickle flame, God knows we’ve both learned that lesson.But you…you deserved something.An explanation at the very least.”
Lyndon stared into the dying embers of an afternoon fire.“I’m a clogged up, constipated lord.”He shook his head.“That’s what the pup had the gall to call me.Teased me rotten whenever I became too crabby.Then he cheered me, turned me into something better.Someonebetter.But…” He blew out a long weary breath.“But on our last morning together, I behaved abominably.”
“Nothing but a tiff,” scoffed Will.“You’ve said so yourself.You were upset he was leaving.He understood that because he understood you.”
“What if I was simply showing him how it would be?A glimpse of the future?How unpleasant a life companion I would make?I believe that’s the reason he’s not returned.”
