Page 57 of Enlightened

Now he just wanted to forget he’d ever known him. And refusing to answer his question felt like a little bit of revenge for all those pleading letters he’d sent years before, none of which had ever prompted a single response.

“As I said,” David repeated, “I really must go.”

“It won’t last, you know,” Will said. “Murdo Balfour might fancy you now, but his interest will fade. He’s had more men than I’ve had hot suppers, and one day he’ll get married, just like me. Our sort always do.”

For a moment, David stared at him, at this long-lost love of his.

He was a stranger. A blandly handsome man of means, surrounded by his Turkish rugs and leather-bound books. A man with riches and a well-bred wife and two children already in the nursery.

Perhaps he had everything he wanted.

David thought of the old Will, then—of the beautiful boy whose green eyes used to dance with humour and affection as he and David played like otters in the swimming hole at home.

Silently, in his heart, he bid that boy farewell.

Will stepped forward. “Davy—”

But David was already turning away.

“Good-bye, Will,” he said. And when he walked out the door, he left his old memories behind.

Euan insisted on going with them to Kinnell’s townhouse, though he agreed to stay in the carriage.

“But if this plan of yours fails,” he said as the carriage came to a halt at its destination, “and that bastard ends up putting a bullet in you out on Hampstead Heath, I won’t rest until I’ve stuck a knife in his guts and ended his miserable existence.”

“Not going to happen,” Murdo replied without hesitation. “He’ll jump at the chance to get out of this, and if he doesn’t, he’ll be the one to die on the heath, I can assure you of that.”

His confidence seemed to ease Euan’s tension, if only a little. The other man nodded his agreement and let them climb out of the carriage without any further protest.

The butler who answered the door was plainly expecting them. He showed them into a large, well-appointed study. It was big enough for both a huge desk and a round meeting table ringed with six chairs.

“Sir Alasdair will be with you directly,” the butler said.

Once he had gone and closed the door behind himself, Murdo turned to David, elevating a brow. “Five guineas says he’ll make us wait.”

Despite everything—despite David’s gut-deep worry about the prospect of Murdo facing Kinnell holding a loaded gun—Murdo himself seemed unconcerned. Amused even. His attitude infuriated and reassured David in equal measure.

Murdo was right about one thing. Kinnell did keep them waiting. It was almost twenty minutes before the man appeared. He was tidily turned out but did not look well. His face was grey with fatigue, drawn with worry. He couldn’t have looked more different from Murdo if he’d tried.

During the wait, Murdo had sat himself down at the table with a book from one of the shelves that lined the room. He looked up at Kinnell’s appearance in the doorway, but did not rise from his chair. In fact, he leaned back and propped his boots up on the table.

“Ah, Sir Alasdair! You grace us with your presence at last,” he said. “But where is your second? Sir William, isn’t it?”

David watched Kinnell’s reaction to Murdo’s comment, noting the minute signs of mingled irritation and fear—the tensing of his jaw, the warily watchful gaze.

“I prefer not to afford you an audience,” he said.

“Very wise,” Murdo agreed amiably. “You will not like some of what I have to say, and you certainly wouldn’t want Sir William to hear it.”

Kinnell walked round the table to select the chair farthest from Murdo before he sat down. “Sir William said you’re prepared to apologise,” he said, his tone clipped, businesslike. “Though only on certain conditions. What are the conditions?”

“Two things only,” Murdo replied. “And both easily given. Firstly, I want Elizabeth. She will come away with me today when I leave this house. Secondly, I want you to divorce her.”

Kinnell stared at him, plainly shocked. “You—you cannot ask that of me,” he said at last.

Murdo leaned forward, his expression deadly serious. “I don’t ask it. I demand it. If you want to get out of meeting me over pistols at dawn, you will agree.” He gave an ugly smile. “After all, you know I’ll win.”

Kinnell flushed with anger. “That’s an outrageous demand. I’ve every right to an apology.Youinsultedme! I am the innocent party here!”