Page 28 of Mr Winterbourne's Christmas
Chapter 10 - Lysander
Lysander examined thefall of his cravat in the mirror. Considering he’d elected for a simple mailcoach style, it ought to look rather better, but he’d let his sartorial standards slip this past year and was rather out of practice with the more complicated knots.
Lifting his chin, he tweaked the folds of linen a few times, but all he managed to do was wilt the fabric further. With a sigh, he gave up. It would have to do. If he didn’t go now, he’d be late for dinner and find himself in his mother’s bad books.
As he straightened the sleeves of his evening coat and gave himself a final look over in the mirror, Lysander couldn’t help but think longingly of dinners at Edgeley Park. No ceremony there, just him and Adam, talking and laughing and discussing their days, not minding their table manners too much. And then afterwards, retiring to the cosy sitting room off Adam’s bedchamber to drink a little wine and relax before bed.
Everything was so easy at Edgeley Park. Coming back to Winterbourne Abbey was like a being doused with cold water, or woken suddenly from an impossibly happy dream. It was a stark reminder that the real world didn’t tolerate men like them. Adam’s wealth insulated them from that reality at Edgeley Park, but it couldn’t insulate them here.
He just wished he could be himself here, the way he was at home. Wished he could show his affection for Adam in front of his family. Wished he could idly touch him without always having to worry what others thought.
He wished...he could go home.
Lysander sighed and turned from the mirror. He had at least three more days of this to tolerate, and in truth his mother would be wounded at him leaving even that soon. She had already made it clear she expected him to stay a fortnight and he hadn’t had the fortitude to contradict her.
Well, he’d tell her tonight.
He couldn’t manage two full weeks of this.
***
LYSANDER WAS SEATEDbetween Bella and Mrs. Griffiths at dinner.
Bella had been reclining on his mother’s chaise longue when he’d entered the drawing room earlier, her injured ankle elevated. When it was time to go in to dinner, he and Perry had each given her an arm. She’d limped into the dining room rather dramatically between them, though Lysander privately wondered how hurt she really was—he was fairly sure that at one point she favoured the wrong foot.
“Poor Lady Arabella,” Mrs. Griffiths said as Perry and Lysander settled Bella into her chair “I’m surprised you came down, my dear. You should have asked for a tray in your room and rested that ankle properly.”
“Oh, but I couldn’t!” Bella exclaimed. “Thinking of you all down here, having a lovely time—no, I’d’ve been eaten up with envy, ma’am! Especially knowing that Mr. Winterbourne was to be my table companion! I couldn’t miss out onthat.” She laughed merrily.
Mrs. Griffiths chuckled too. “Yes, we are lucky, are we not? Having the handsomest man in the room as our captive audience?” With a sudden movement, she lifted her fan, spread it wide with a sharp flick of her wrist, and peeped coquettishly at Lysander over the brim.
Good lord, Lysander thought, amused.Sixty if she’s a day and still flirting with her fan.
Bella giggled. “Very true,” she said and winked at Lysander.
Adam was once again seated too far from Lysander to allow them to converse, though at least Lysander had amusing table companions this evening. Bella was a minx, to be sure, but entertaining with it, and Mrs. Griffiths was very amiable, even if she was a horror with her fan. She kept rapping Lysander over the knuckles with it whenever he made a joke. It was meant to be flirtatious, he was sure, but it hurt like the devil.
They were about half way through dinner when Lysander heard the unmistakable sound of silver cutlery tapping against crystal.
Ting, ting, ting.
Lysander glanced up to see his father standing at the head of the table, glass and spoon in hand.
Having got his guests’ attention, he smiled at them. “Before I say another word, allow me to welcome you all—properly—to Winterbourne Abbey. It is always a pleasure to share our home with dear friends, especially at this time of year. My wife and I are greatly looking forward to spending Christmas day with all of you tomorrow.”
Murmurs of pleasure and agreement rippled up and down the table.
The earl held up his glass. “I therefore wish to begin by proposing a toast to all of you. Thank you for accepting our invitation to join us during this Christmas holiday.” He lifted his glass and smiled. “To you all.”
Everyone raised their glasses and drank, but when the glasses were set back down, the earl did not, as Lysander had expected, return to his seat.
“I should also like to say aspecialwelcome,” he continued, “to our dear friend, Sir Edmund Hunt.”
Sir Edmund, who was seated between Gwen and Mrs. Gould, appeared mildly startled at that, a small frown tugging his brows together.
The earl smiled at him ingratiatingly. “We—our family, that is—have seen a great deal of Sir Edmund over these last few months.” He darted a coy glance at Gwen, which left no one at the table in any doubt as to why the Winterbournes had seen so much of Sir Edmund. “And we hope to...deepen that friendship in moremeaningfulways in future.” He raised his glass. “To Sir Edmund.”