Page 4 of Mr Winterbourne's Christmas

“I need a good breakfast,” Lysander said, tucking in. “I’ll be riding all day.”

Jonny sighed. “Thighs.”

“Sorry?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. You saidthighs.”

“Did I really?” Jonny said wonderingly. “How very odd of me.”

Lysander shook his head and turned back to his breakfast. Adam’s cook was excellent.

“You’re very good for him, you know,” Jonny said.

Lysander glanced up at that, surprised by Jonny’s serious tone. Jonny’s expression was soft and a little wistful. He was the same age as Adam—they’d been at school together—but he looked a great deal younger. Lysander would have put him at five-and-twenty, like Lysander himself, rather than two-and-thirty.

“He’s prone to be overly serious,” Jonny continued. “Even when we were boys, he was like that. He needs someone to remind him to laugh and have fun occasionally.”

Lysander smiled at the accuracy of that. Adam took his responsibilities seriously and worked harder than anyone Lysander knew, regularly travelling to Manchester, and occasionally London, on business. Even in his spare time he was consumed by learning about agriculture and farming so as to understand better the workings of the estate. Sometimes Lysander had to confiscate his books, dragging him out for a ride, or to eat dinner...or to join him in bed.

“We get on well,” he said.

Jonny raised an auburn brow. “So I heard this morning,” he said, laughing when Lysander blushed hotly. “You’re good for him that way too,” Jonny said. “I used to worry that he’d never have that.”

“Have what?”

“That”—Jonny waved his hand in the air, as though summoning the right word—“connection. Companionship, you know?”

“I...think so,” Lysander said carefully. But in truth, he wasn’t sure. It was certainly true that he and Adam got on well. They were both good-natured and gravitated to the same interests, both enjoying outdoor pursuits, good food and wine, lively conversation. But those were things you could enjoy with lots of people.

“He was never one for falling in love,” Jonny continued, “Not like me.”

“No?” Lysander said faintly, he was beginning to feel a little sick. He set down his cutlery.

“I don’t mean he didn’t haveanyone,” Jonny said. “Quite the opposite. In fact, he used to have quite the little harem dotted around that he’d visit—he’s got a healthy appetite as I’m sure you know—but no one to share that deeper connection.”

A harem?Lysander’s stomach writhed with sudden, unexpected jealousy. He forced himself to meet Jonny’s gaze.

Jonny said, quietly, sincerely, “I think he finally has that—with you.”

A lump rose in Lysander’s throat, and he wasn’t entirely sure why, but it might be to do with the fact that he didn’t know what he was to Adam—Adam hadn’t told him. And yes, all right, it wasn’t as though he’d told Adam howhefelt—that he was, not to put too fine a point upon it, utterly besotted with the man—but, well, weren’t their positions different?

Lysander’s whole life was here, at Edgeley Park. The same was not true for Adam. He spent a good portion of his time away. He met other people and did things that Lysander knew nothing about. He had friends like Jonny who came to stay from time to time. Friends he obviously knew well and who were almost always like them—men who preferred other men.

He had made no declarations or promises to Lysander.

None whatsoever.

Yes, they had a connection. Yes, the time they spent together was wonderful. But was it more than that for Adam? More than a close friendship with bed sport thrown in for good measure?

Or, was it more likely that Adam still had that harem? That when he went away, he saw other men. Shared equally wonderful times with them. Or perhaps less wonderful, less companionable times, that nevertheless ended up with them enjoying each other’s bodies.

Was it just that Lysander was the current favourite?

That thought made him feel sick and miserable.

“Did I say something wrong?” Jonny said into the silence. Lysander met his gaze—Jonny’s hazel eyes were soft with concern. “I only meant to—”