Page 40 of The Labours of Lord Perry Cavendish

On his arrival, Mrs. Gardiner told him that the other two gentlemen had arrived, and all three were now awaiting his arrival in the private parlour before they dined. Did he want to go straight through or wash up first? Her expression suggested that her view was that the latter would be the better course of action.

Perry glanced down at himself. “I’m better change firs’,” he said, suddenly very conscious of his somewhat slurred diction. “I don’ have time f’r a bath—could y’ send up a couple pitchers o' hot water?”

Mrs. Gardiner, to her credit, quickly hid her amusement and said she’d send the hot water and some coffee right away, and that she’d let the other gentleman know he wouldn’t be too long.

“A quarter hour at the very mos’,” Perry agreed.

He dashed upstairs and began to strip off his travel-worn things. A few minutes later, a manservant arrived with the hot water and coffee. Perry quickly slurped down two cups of the strong brew, which helped clear his head, then washed and combed his hair. His cheeks were rough with an incipient beard, but there was nothing to be done about that. He didn’t have time to shave.

He spent a few precious minutes brushing the worst of the mud off the tail of his coat and pantaloons, then pulled on a fresh shirt and drawers before donning the rest of his clothes. He managed a reasonably creditable knot in his clean neckcloth and donned the spare shoes he’d brought in favour of his less than pristine boots.

When he was done, he looked at least halfway respectable and about as ready to face Jonny and his friends as he would ever be.

Thankfully, the coffee was beginning to have an effect too.

When he got back downstairs, Mrs. Gardiner led him down a short corridor and pointed to the door at the end.

“They’re in there, my lord,” she said cheerfully. “Just go on in. I’ll send Daisy along with the soup in a few minutes.”

Perry approached the door as though it was the entrance to the lion’s den. Behind the stout wood, he could hear Jonny’s voice, telling some kind of story, and sounds of appreciative male laughter.

He paused for a moment, with his hand on the door handle—he was more nervous than he’d care to admit to be meeting these well-travelled and cultured friends of Jonny’s—but finally, he took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The three men sitting at the round dining table all fell silent when he entered and looked his way.

“Perry!” Jonny said, rising from his chair. He wore that wide, sincere smile that made Perry feel a bit winded. “You’re back.”

“Yes,” Perry said returning the smile as best he could. “Sorry if I’m a bit late. I lost of track of time rather.”

Jonny was wearing the same coat and pantaloons as before—they were still immaculate, of course—but he’d changed his plain fawn waistcoat for a russet silk one with black embroidery, and his copper-penny hair glinted in the candlelight. Perry realised, belatedly, that he was staring at the man and had to force himself to look away to acknowledge Jonny’s friends, who had also risen from their chairs now and were waiting to be introduced to him.

“Jasper, Sam, this is Lord Perry Cavendish,” Jonny said. Perry smiled and offered a brief bow to the first man, who was shorter than Jonny, and quite slender. His thick hair gleamed blue-black and was swept back from his pale brow.

The man’s smile was arresting. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Jasper Huxley.” He raised a brow and added, “And I see Jonny wasn’t exaggerating about you.”

“Exaggerating?” Perry echoed.

“He said he’s painting you as Hercules,” Huxley said, his gaze admiring. “And I can see why.”

Perry relaxed. “I’ve always been big,” he admitted. “My father used to say my mother must have got a fright from a carthorse when she was carrying me.”

Huxley laughed, as did the second man who Perry now turned to.

“I’m Sam Alderton,” he said. He was bigger than Huxley, though not as tall or broad as Perry with dark chestnut brown hair and handsome features. “Pleased to meet you. Any friend of Jonny’s…” He smiled instead of finishing the sentence.

“And you,” Perry said. Alderton’s left sleeve was empty and pinned to his coat. Perry had known to expect that and didn’t let his gaze linger.

“Take a seat,” Alderton said, and Perry did, claiming the remaining empty seat at the table while Huxley poured a glass of wine for Perry, then topped up the other glasses.

“So,” Huxley said. “How have you found sitting for Jonny? Has he been a hard taskmaster?”

“I found it surprisingly tiring when we sat for him,” Alderton put in. “Staying in one pose all that time was more of an effort than I expected.”

Perry glanced at Jonny, liking the way his smile deepened when their gazes met, then back at the other two men.

“I haven’t found it too bad,” he said. He chuckled. “Perhaps it’s because my mind wanders off quite happily. Reminds me of being at school. I used to stare out the window during my lessons and think about what I’d do if I was outside. Come to think of it, that’s probably why I’m such a duffer now!” He winked, then noticed that Jonny was frowning.

“You’re not a duffer, Peregrine,” he said firmly. “Far from it.”