AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 6
Baldwin hadn’t seen Ewan for many days. He’d felt buried in a chaotic avalanche of work-related terrors. Throughout each hour, he felt more like a man acting out some sort of script—not like a man with real emotions or any type of proper vision of his life. When he sat at the dinner table each night and reflected on the events of his day, he felt strangely empty and void of excitement. Each day seemed to reflect the one before it and the one after. And his father only seemed to grow increasingly ill and less able to help. Baldwin felt time slipping away.
The only thing that had felt like a jolt of any life came in the form of Marta Schnitzler. Yet he hadn’t had time to return to the Thompson Estate.
Baldwin was surprised to find Ewan in his back garden after a particularly gruelling day. His friend flashed him that now-familiar, cheeky grin.
“There he is. My dear friend. Twenty-five years old and going on forty-five, hey?” Ewan said. He hopped up from the garden bench and clapped Baldwin’s shoulder.
Baldwin lent a fatigued smile. “Would you like a Scotch?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Ewan returned.
Baldwin hurried back to his study, poured them both stiff drinks, and returned to the garden. The moon lifted out from behind a mighty cloud and cast them in an eerie, grey light.
“My dear cousin has been quite a pleasure to have around the house,” Ewan affirmed.
Baldwin’s heart leapt towards his throat, then floated back down. “Oh?”
“Yes. I’ve learned bits and pieces more about the reason for her arrival. It’s quite fascinating. It seems she was in some sort of love triangle,” Ewan continued.
“Oh?” Did he sound disinterested? In truth, his heart thudded manically. What was it about this creature that stirred such an organic reaction.
“But it seems that she was jilted. Left. The man chose the other woman—and the other woman has crafted some sort of horrendous environment for Marta. It forced her out of the country!” Ewan continued.
It seemed outside the bounds of reason that any man could possibly choose another woman when given the option to be with Marta. Baldwin arched his brow and did his best to show only minor interest.
“Isn’t it fascinating?” Ewan demanded.
“Yes. Quite.”
There was a strange, simmering silence. Ewan adjusted and sipped his Scotch.
“I’ve known you a long time, Baldwin. I see it reflected in your eyes. You want to say something else. There are so many things whizzing about in that brain of yours.”
“Really, I promise you. There’s nothing. It was a rather difficult day and…”
“You will come to my mother’s party tomorrow evening, won’t you?”
Baldwin hadn’t forgotten. He’d spent the majority of the previous few days attempting to convince himself that he didn’t require such an affair. It would only tug him further away from the work he was required to do. Beyond that, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to see Aunt Margaret link Marta up with anyone else.
“Really, you must. I know you hope and pray for your fiftieth birthday, but the truth of it is, you’re still alive and vibrant. If you don’t use these years to your advantage, you’ll regret it,” Ewan said.
“You speak as though I would ever listen to your advice,” Baldwin said. He gave Ewan a cheeky grin.
“You’re a menace,” Ewan said. “Just say you’ll be there. If anything, Marta needs our support.”
“Oh, yes. I’d like nothing more than to support Marta on her quest to find an eligible mate,” Baldwin said. His voice was edged with sarcasm—just enough to allow Ewan the slightest hint.
He would never admit it with words. It wasn’t his style.
**
When Baldwin entered his house once more, he found a dark figure in the hallway. At first, his heart lurched with fright. Within seconds, however, he realised that the man he’d discovered was only his sick father, standing upright yet sleepwalking. This was something the old man had done frequently over the past six months. Each time, Baldwin found himself terrified—then forced to face a strange walk-back, his hand across his father’s shoulder to guide him.
It wasn’t the sort of life Baldwin had ever pictured for himself.
Not that he’d pictured much of anything at all.
Now, like many other times previously, he wondered why he’d never had such a vision for his future. He’d never been wildly creative and volatile. He’d never been one to seize the future in this manic and passionate way.
Yet that was the sort of man Marta Schnitzler wanted for herself.
This was already clear.
It could never be him.
