thirty-four
Be hopeful, Effie had told Tristan last night.
He felt anything but hopeful the next morning, still lying in his bed. At the moment, only shame filled him; it overtook the physical pain.
But he was a man of his word; he’d promised her he would stop, and he would do his level best to honour his promise. That didn’t mean he was enthusiastic about the future although a future where Effie kissed him was worth fighting for.
He stared at the bed canopy and relived the kiss. Just thinking about her sweet lips made his desire sizzle; it was a fire so deep he felt it in his soul.
Pain lanced through him when he inhaled, and his head ached. Deep down, he agreed with her and with all those people who had pointed out the risks of his habit. He’d reached his limit in The Octagon.
The first times he’d gone there, a few punches had done the trick. Now he needed more violence to silence the twitch.
In the middle of everything that had happened last night, Effie’s presence in his house was no longer a secret, and he blamed himself for that. Everyone, aside from Rowan, knewshe’d met with him in secret. Her reputation was at risk, and it was his responsibility to keep her safe.
The door opened a few inches, and Rowan poked his head inside. “May I come in?”
“Yes.” He pulled the cover up to hide his bruises.
Rowan manoeuvred himself with agility, despite the crutches. He’d learnt to use them well. “How are you?” His voice was guarded.
“Just a few bruises and a headache.”
His brother sat on the chair next to the bed. “Harris said you need rest because one of your ribs might be broken.”
“I’m fine, Rowan.”
“What did Lady Effie say about your illness?”
He perked up. “What?”
“She was here last night. I saw her. I woke up because I heard loud voices, and she was speaking louder than anyone.”
“Great.” He rubbed his temples. Even Rowan knew.
“What happened to you?”
“I hit my head when I was boxing.” That at least was true.
Rowan narrowed his blue eyes so similar to his. “Where were you boxing?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Anger contracted Rowan’s face. He gripped the armrests. “I’m not a child. You can tell me the truth.”
“You don’t need to know everything about me.”
“You never tell me the truth.” Rowan’s cheeks reddened. “When Mama left, you told me she would be back. But she didn’t come back. You said something must have happened to her, preventing her from coming back. And she still she didn’t come back. When I mention her, you never say anything. But I’m not stupid.”
“I’ve never thought you were.”
“She will never come back, will she?”
Tristan felt a knot of emotion in his throat. Last night had started a change within him, and now he couldn’t stop tearing up. He must have suppressed his emotions for too long because now they were exploding under the pressure of his control.
He put a hand on his ribs. “Can’t we have this conversation another time?”
“No.” Rowan stood up, balancing his weight on his good leg. “I want to hear from you that my mother abandoned me forever, and I want you to tell me what happened to you.”
