Page 60 of Scoundrel Take Me Away (Dukes in Disguise #3)

“Tell me who I am, then,” Thorne challenged him. “If you think you know, after more than a decade.”

Farthingdale set down his cup and regarded Thorne gravely. “We could go a hundred years without speaking, and I would still know you.”

Unbidden and entirely against his will, Thorne felt humiliating moisture burn at the backs of his eyes. Pressing his lips together tightly, he made a curt gesture with one hand to indicate that Farthingdale should proceed.

The older man set his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his long, bony fingers just below his chin—the same pose he’d adopted while teaching young Gabriel how to play chess. The familiarity of the sight jammed his breath in his lungs.

“When you were eight,” Farthingdale said, “you rescued a bird that had injured its wing. A little sparrow.”

“The cats in the stable had gotten to it,” Thorne said hoarsely, the hazy memory coming back to him.

Farthingdale nodded. “Your uncle told you it couldn’t be helped, that the bird would surely die and it would be most humane to give it a quick death.

But you insisted that you would care for the bird and tend to its wound, and you did.

For two weeks, you spent every waking moment bent over the box you’d found to put the little sparrow in.

You lined it with soft bits of cloth and clumps of grass and moss, and flowers from the garden so it would have something nice to look at.

Dominic helped at first, but grew bored quickly.

Not you. You woke yourself up in the night to drip water into its beak.

You dug for worms in the garden to feed it.

Even when Dominic tried to tempt you away, for a ride to the village or a ramble in the woods, you stayed by that bird’s side. ”

Thorne’s throat closed. He remembered what came next.

“And when the sparrow died,” Farthingdale went on, gentle but relentless, “I thought you would be inconsolable. But you looked at me, pale with weariness, big dark circles under your dry eyes, and you said, ‘that’s all right, Farthingdale. I knew he wouldn’t stay.

I only wanted to give him a few nice days. ’”

The knot in Thorne’s throat expanded. Shoving it down, he said, “All right, I was a soft-hearted little sap. What of it?”

Farthingdale’s eyes sharpened along with his tone.

“You were kind. You were brave. You wanted to take care of someone who couldn’t take care of themselves, and you worked as hard as you knew how, to make them happy.

And you expected, every minute, that they would still leave you.

That is who you were. That is who you have always been. ”

“Don’t you read the papers?” Thorne sneered, the expression feeling unnatural and forced. “I’ve changed.”

Farthingdale skewered him with a look. “No, you haven’t. Not if you’re still sitting there while the woman you love boards a ship for France.”

All the wind went out of him. He let loose a broken laugh. “Good God. How do you always know everything? Uncle Roman is nothing compared to you.”

“Where do you think he learned it?” Farthingdale twinkled at him, a small smile quirking his lips.

“Now, Master Gabriel, I cannot promise you that your young lady will never leave you. What I can promise is that you are strong enough and brave enough to love her, and to work to make her happy for as long as you can, even knowing she may one day be gone . And that is all any man can do.”

Gabriel’s chest caved in on itself around the giant ball of misery lodged behind his sternum.

It broke, choking him with a hacking sob that took him by surprise.

He covered his face with his hands, overcome, but he could have pulled himself together had he not felt two thin, wiry, unexpectedly strong and steady arms come round him in a tea-scented embrace.

Farthingdale held him, and Gabriel weathered the storm of his emotions like a sailor tied to the mast of a ship. He emerged from the embrace feeling battered and exhausted…but whole.

Clean. For the first time in years.

“My dear boy,” Farthingdale said fondly, his measured voice clogged with a few tears of his own. “As much as I have enjoyed this time together?—”

“I have somewhere to be,” Gabriel said, lurching to his feet, heart racing.

All of Thorne’s aimless misery of the past few weeks tunneled down into a singular point of focus.

Get to Lucy. Before it’s too late.

Setting two firm hands on his shoulders, Farthingdale took one last look at Gabriel. “I believe Master Dominic will be meeting you at the docks. He’s gone ahead to find you a ship.”

“That interfering bastard,” Gabriel swore, brimming with affection and gratitude and nerves. “Fine, I’m going. Thank you, Farthingdale. For everything.”

Farthingdale’s lined face creased with a smile. “You make me very proud, Master Gabriel.”

Damn it all. Tears tracked down Gabriel’s cheeks unheeded as he pressed Farthingdale’s bony hands between his, one more time. Then Gabriel turned and tore out of his apartments, shouting for his horse.

He had a boat to catch.