Page 37 of The Labours of Lord Perry Cavendish

Perry took Jonny at his word. When Jonny emerged from the house the following morning, it was Perry’s curricle waiting for him, rather than Adam’s much larger travelling carriage.

It was a lovely, late summer day with only a few wisps of white cloud in the sky and a bit of a breeze. Perry had tucked a basket of provisions into the space between their feet, and their valises were strapped to the back of the curricle. Jonny had brought little more than a change of linen, a spare waistcoat, and a few other necessities for their single night away. He had fretted a little over breakfast about not having a nicer suit to change into for dinner. Adam had calmly pointed out that dinner at a country inn would hardly require elegant evening clothes, and Lysander had added that Jasper and Sam hadn’t gone to all this bother in hopes of seeing Jonny in his best finery—it was Jonny himself they were concerned to see. But it was only when Perry shrugged and said that if Jonny wanted to take more clothes, they’d find a way of fitting in another valise, that the feeling of panic had receded.

It wasn’t that Adam and Lysander were not perfectly right—of course they were—but that had not been what Jonny needed to hear at that moment. Perry’s easy willingness to accommodate him, however, had been like water on the flames of his anxiety.

As the curricle bounced along the uneven road, Jonny stole a glance at Perry. He sat on the bench beside Jonny, the reins loose in his hands, his expression calm but alert, exuding a contented sort of competence that Jonny both envied and found remarkably soothing.

Jonny had already noticed that the man was a hundred times more comfortable outdoors than indoors. It was as though he needed more room to expand into. Today, as he handled the horses and drove the light, swift curricle, he was perfectly at ease. His hands on the reins were sure as he coaxed the matched pair pulling them, easily judging how to manoeuvre the vehicle through the narrowest of lanes.

Jonny usually travelled in a closed carriage whenever he went any distance. There were solidly practical reasons for this, the weather chief among them, but, yes, there was also a craven desire to hide away. He had learned the hard way, at far too tender an age, how dangerous the roads could be. There were plenty of rogues on the lookout for victims to rob and terrorise, and Jonny was painfully aware that the way he behaved and spoke sometimes attracted the wrong sort of attention. But twenty miles wasn’t so very far, and with Perry by his side, he felt brave enough to simply enjoy the novelty of being driven in a curricle.

It was certainly far easier on his stomach. Instead of being holed up inside a gloomy carriage with the walls closing in on him, he had the whole world before him and fresh air aplenty. His stomach still protested a bit but barely at all compared to what he was used to enduring. And if it got rather cold at times, well, he had his greatcoat and two blankets that Perry had brought for him.

And besides all of that, he had Perry beside him, listening to him as he rattled on—as he tended to do when he felt a bit nervous—and smiling that easy, soothing smile of his.

Jonny honestly couldn’t think of anyone but Adam in whose company he’d ever felt so much at ease.

He wondered what Jasper and Sam would make of Perry when he introduced them. He felt sure they would like him—he was such an instantly likeable person. Jonny had certainly taken to him immediately, charmed by his ready smile and too-easy blushes. And in the days that had followed, he’d learned so much more about Perry’s deeper character, discovering depths of kindness and understanding that—given how often the man referred to himself as an idiot—he suspected few people realised he possessed.

“Sometimes people don’t see what you are. They only see what you’re not.”

He was thinking about how he would coax Perry out of his shell if he was shy with Jasper and Sam when Perry interrupted his thoughts, saying, “Shall we stop soon, for luncheon?”

“Is it that time already?” Jonny exclaimed, surprised. He pulled out his watch, astonished to see it was indeed nearly one o’clock.

“If you’re not hungry, we can wait,” Perry said, only for his stomach to growl loudly as though to protest his words.

Jonny laughed, then laughed harder when Perry’s cheeks pinkened fetchingly. He did so love the man’s blushes.

“I’m quite ready to eat,” he said. “And you’re plainly famished, Hercules.”

Perry didn’t trouble to argue the point, and a few minutes later, he turned off the road at a convenient spot.

While Perry saw to the horses, Jonny laid one of the blankets on the ground and opened up the basket of provisions. He drew out one napkin-wrapped bundle that contained two generous slices of cold meat pie, another with a wedge of strong, tangy cheese, and a third with a slab of rich fruitcake, setting them out on the blanket. There was small beer in earthenware bottles too, and half a dozen ripe plums, straight out of the orchard by the look of them.

Perry jogged over and laid down on the blanket in a careless sprawl of limbs that made Jonny realise he was sitting in a rather prim and upright fashion. Awkwardly, he slouched down, resting his weight on one elbow, and watched as Perry reached for one of the slices of pie and took a large bite. He made an appreciative noise around the food as he chewed.

“Marvellous cook, they’ve got,” he said, reverently, once he’d swallowed, then quickly finished off the rest of the slice, before reaching for one of the bottles, uncorking it with his teeth, and taking a long drink.

“God, that’s good,” he said, then laid back on the blanket, holding the bottle upright on his chest between his hands.

“What a glorious day. Just look at that sky.”

Jonny glanced up. The sky was indeed as blue as a periwinkle, and the very few clouds were white and fluffy and did not threaten rain.

He returned his gaze to Perry. The man lay on the blanket, entirely content in his own skin in a way that Jonny knewhenever was. The best he could manage was to forget about his body, to get so lost in his work that he stopped thinking about it at all. He admired—and slightly envied—the obvious ease with which Perry occupied his well-made frame. How good it must be, he thought, to have strong, muscled limbs that did exactly what one wanted.

His fingers itched to draw, but he had no pencil or paper. Instead, he let his eyes sweep up Perry’s handsome form, coming to rest on his face.

The man had his eyes closed, a slight smile on his lips.

“What are you thinking?” Jonny asked, lightly.

Perry laughed softly. “Nothing in particular,” he said, without opening his eyes. “I’m not like you. My brainbox isn’t always whirring.”

“Nor is mine!” Jonny protested.

Perry just laughed again, but kindly. “Lie down and enjoy the sun for a while.”