“But she still came back to stop this vampire, disowned or not.” Wesley tilted his head. “Frankly that sounds like something you would do, with your wholeprotect the nonmagicalbit.”
“It’s what we try to do in my family,” Sebastian said.
Vampire paranormals and family legends and blood magic, and Sebastian in the thick of it, doing his best to save people without magic. Even a bitter cynic like Wesley was finding it hard not to feel some admiration for the man.
He watched as Sebastian took another biscuit and dipped it in the tin. He licked off sweetened condensed milk, and Wesley abruptly went a little hot under the collar.
Hard not to feel a lot of things for the man.
After breakfast, they got their caps and stepped out through a back door. Wesley carefully kept his eyes on the house, because perhaps he was a coward, but it was daylight now and he simply didn’t want to see the state of the untended gardens.
“The garage is just over there,” he started.
But Sebastian wasn’t looking in the direction of the garage; he was looking out over the land. “What a beautiful garden.”
Wesley turned before he could stop himself.
He stilled. He’d expected a mess, and it certainly wasn’t neat. But beneath the gray sky, the hedges were still lush green despite their unmanicured edges. The stone walls up ahead were prettier with the ivy crawling up their sides, and the overgrown plants tumbling over the sides of the stone planters had flowers in shades of pink and violet.
“Oh,” he said in surprise. “I thought it would have gone completely to seed.”
“Wild is beautiful too.” Sebastian pointed at a fountain. “You’ve even got birds.” He glanced at Wesley out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not going to shoot him, are you?”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t eat robin, so no. But if he was a partridge or a pheasant, I certainly would, and no amount of pouting on your part will change that.”
That earned him a dirty look, which was cute. For all the beauty of the wild garden, Sebastian was still the most beautiful thing to be seen, and Wesley needed a cigarette or he was going to get caught staring. “We might see lambs today, on the drive.”
Sebastian glanced over his shoulder. “Really?”
“Thought you’d like that.” Wesley pulled out his pack from his coat. It had been laughable to think Sebastian would judge him for his addiction or a preference for cheap tobacco over fine cigars; might as well give the man more of his Yorkshire truths. “I’m donating the manor.”
Sebastian blinked in surprise, maybe at the non sequitur, maybe at the idea that Wesley would indulge anything so outrageously soft as charity.
“I never come anymore,” Wesley admitted. “Too many ghosts for me, but maybe for others, it could be, I don’t know. A hospital, or a school, or an orphanage.”
“That would be lovely,” Sebastian said, with so much sincerity that the tenseness in Wesley’s chest eased. “Children would love to play in this garden.”
“I did, once upon a time.” Wesley stuck the cigarette between his lips. He struck a match, and cupped his hands around the tip while lighting it. “This whole area used to be Fine land, when Shepherd Hall got its name. But my great-uncle had his own vices and sold some acres off, and now there’s a farm next door. The animals used to come to the stone wall that divides the property, and the groundskeeper used to give me treats for them.”
“Oh.” Sebastian bit his thumb. “Was that your Mr. Fitzgerald who passed in spring?”
He’d remembered. “Yes.” Wesley inhaled the acrid smoke. “I’d known Fitz my whole life. He indulged me terribly and my mother encouraged it, traipsing down to feed the animals with me. She particularly loved the lambs.” He shook out the match. “My father of course put a stop to all the coddling when she died.”
“Coddling.”Sebastian sounded skeptical. “How old were you?”
“Six.” Wesley gestured carelessly with the cigarette. “Wipe that concerned look off your face. I was the younger son who was never supposed to have to worry about the title, and she did coddle me—you know how mothers are. My father was right to end it, but. Well. Fitz was the last staff member I had who remembered her.”
Wesley blew the smoke out in a hard rush. “Anyway. Now you know why the furniture is missing from many of the rooms, and why I’ve been ridiculously sentimental and haven’t replaced my groundskeeper.”
“I don’t think anything you’ve said has been ridiculous,” Sebastian said quietly. “It should not be too much to ask of the world that children are cared for and happy.”
“Oh, please, I didn’t want for anything,” Wesley said. “Save your sympathy for those who deserve it.”
“I can have sympathy for everyone who has suffered,” Sebastian said. “Including six-year-old Lord Fine.”
“Try a little for yourself, then.”
Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it. He stuck his hands in his coat pockets, and said, “I hope we see the lambs.”
