Page 23 of Mr Winterbourne's Christmas
“I am,” Perry said, eyes still blazing. “And there’s nothing I’d’ve wanted more.”
Lysander’s heart was pounding now, hard. Perry was his friend, his oldest friend. They’d told each other all sorts of secrets, but he’d never known this. And in this moment, standing in the snow, Lysander couldn’t reconcile this new knowledge with who Perry was to him.
“I—I had no idea.”
Perry laughed harshly. “I know. You didn’t notice me at all. I thought you liked ladies, like everyone else. So I just watched you, wanting you and keeping quiet about it. Until Freeman came along and off you went. Forgot I existed.”
“I didn’t forget you!” Lysander protested, though he was guiltily aware the accusation was not without foundation. “It’s only I’ve been so busy and—” He broke off, returning to the unfathomable truth that Perry had just thrown in his teeth.
“There’s nothing I’d’ve wanted more.”
“I’m sorry I neglected you this last year,” Lysander concluded weakly.
Perry just shook his head, hoisted the bundle of greenery higher in his arms and resumed walking.
“I saw you were smitten with him at Althea’s wedding,” he said flatly, not looking at Lysander. “Didn’t think it wasmysort of smitten, not then. Thought it was just that you admired him. He gave you that position you wanted, after all.”
“When you sayyoursort of smitten, you mean...?” Lysander trailed off.
Perry gave a bitter scoff of exasperation. “The sort of smitten a normal chap feels for a lady.”
“So, you—you really prefer men, then?” Lysander asked. “Not just me, I mean?”
Perry laughed, but it was a bleak sound. “I do. God help me, I do.”
Lysander shook his head wonderingly. “I never knew. Hadn’t the faintest inkling. Have you—you know,done itwith anyone? A man, I mean.”
Perry averted his gaze. His cheeks were flushed “No,” he admitted. “Well, not really. Just a couple of times with hands and—well, you know.” He paused, then added, almost apologetically, “I nearly went to a molly house once.”
It was such a Perry thing to say that Lysander couldn’t help the startled bark of laughter that burst out of him. “Nearly?”
“Chap in the park suggested it,” Perry said. “An awful rum fellow. I panicked and ran off.”
“Oh, Perry!” Lysander said, and his voice—full of mingled sympathy and helpless laughter—made Perry give a tiny, rueful chuckle of his own, and then they were both laughing, Lysander imagining his friend haring across the park with some chap charging after him.
Their gazes met and Perry’s softened in an inexplicable way that made Lysander feel oddly sad.
He was relieved when Anne Greenhill’s distant voice interrupted them.
“I say, Lysander! Lord Perry! Wait there, will you?”
They both turned to see her hurrying down the path towards them, waving.
“What’s wrong?” Lysander called.
“It’s Lady Arabella,” she called, stopping now that she had their attention. “She went over on her ankle. I don’t think she can walk back.”
Perry sighed. He dropped his bundle of greenery in the snow. “I suppose I’m going to have to carry the silly chit back,” he muttered and began jogging towards Miss Greenhill.
“Wait there,” he called to Miss Greenhill. “I’m coming.” He began jogging down the path towards her.
Lysander set his own burden down beside Perry’s and began following at a slower pace. When Perry reached Miss Greenhill, he paused to exchange a few words, then jogged onwards while Miss Greenhill waited for Lysander.
“Is Lady Arabella all right?” Lysander asked when he reached her.
“She’ll be fine,” Miss Greenhill said, “But she seems to have twisted her ankle quite badly—she can’t put much weight on it at all. She’s not too far away though, just round the corner here.”
They found the others another hundred yards on. Bella was sitting on a tree stump with a woebegone expression on her pretty face while Sir Edmund spoke to Perry. As Lysander and Anne approached, Sir Edmund was mid-complaint.