Chapter 2

“You’re an arse,” Collyn snapped. “I’m referring to the younger one.”

“Thomas? What are you going on about?”

“They seem to be as thick as inkle weavers.”

“They’ve always been like that. They shared a cot when they were infants.”

“In case it’s escaped your notice, they’re neither of them infants. And quite frankly, your brother isn’t hard on the eyes.”

“Do you think so?”

“I do.”

I felt myself blushing. This friend of Harry’s—not to say he was to my taste, but…he thought I was attractive?

“He’s so…dark.” Trust Harry to depress any pretensions. Not that I had many, for while my brothers had the fair good looks of their mother, I had the dark looks of mine, which they’d constantly told me were mediocre at best.

I held my breath and continued listening.

“Some people might find those looks intriguing.”

“You, Collyn? I know what you’re like, and if you touch him—”

“You know I’d never do that. You’re my friend, and I’d never overstep. I just thought…a word to the wise.”

“Very well. I think you’re very wrong, but I’ll mention it to his mother.”

“Not your father?”

The door closed behind them, shutting out Harry’s response to that, and I released the breath I’d been holding. I wondered briefly how Father would have responded to that, but I assumed he’d give it as much interest as he had on learning of the excellent marks I’d received at Eton. They’d been better than Harry’s and almost as good as John’s, but he hadn’t commented at all.

Thomas was my best—my dearest friend. I couldn’t lose him, as I was certain I would if it went about the district there was anything unnatural between us.

I couldn’t let that happen. And yet, if I made any attempt to curtail our friendship, Thomas would be hurt and would want to know the reasons behind it.

The book dropped from my hand, and I began worrying a thumbnail, trying to come up with a way to keep our friendship safe.

* * * *

I was no closer to a solution by the next evening, and the condition of my fingernails made that evident.

I changed for dinner, ran a hand over my hair and tugged at the hem of my dinner jacket, then went downstairs. Father escorted Mother into the dining room and seated her, and I waited for him to sit at the head of the table before I took my own seat on his left. It was just the three of us, since Harry and his friend had returned to their regiment.

For the most part, the meal was silent with only the sounds of our cutlery coming into contact with the fine china interrupting it.

“You’ll have to do something about that milkmaid, Sir John,” Mother finally said as she sliced her lamb.

“What did you want me to do?” Father swirled the wine in his glass, seeming more interested in that than in anything Mother might say. Which was the way it usually was between the two of them.

“Turn her off. She’s—” Mother slid a glance in my direction. “She’s a bad influence on the men.”

“She simply has a healthy…um…appetite.”

“How are you aware of this? Have you sampled her charms?”

“I’d hardly be likely to, my love. She’s a milkmaid. However, she’s well enough for randy young men.” This time it was Father who glanced in my direction.

“Warrick, leave the table.”

Although I was no longer in the infantry, I knew better than to object that I hadn’t finished my dinner. I left, but Mother had planted the seed of an idea in my brain.

Instead of going to my room, as Mother no doubt thought I would, I hurried out to the stables. “Saddle Monte if you please,” I asked the groom who was polishing tack.

He didn’t say anything about how I was dressed, just touched his forelock and set about obeying me.

* * * *

Fortescue Manor was a lovely house of faded cream brick, old, but not as old as Thorny Walk House, and far more pleasing than the house I grew up in.

I rode around to the stables and left my horse there in the care of the groom, then went to the kitchen.

“Lord love us if it isn’t Master Warrick!” Mrs Rivers, the cook, smiled at me. “Whatever are you doing here at this time of night?”

“Hoping you might take pity on me and feed me?” I wheedled.

“Sit yourself down.” She began preparing a plate of roast beef, potatoes, and asparagus. “Jane, go tell Master Thomas he’s got a visitor.”

I didn’t protest that I didn’t want to interrupt the Smythes’ dinner. They were long since done. It was Mother who preferred to keep Town hours, something Father went along with for once.