Page 45 of The Labours of Lord Perry Cavendish

Perry shrugged. “I’m not minded to stop with the roads being as they are, but if you don’t mind eating as we travel, I’ve no objection. It’s not as though we’re moving much at the moment anyway.”

“What would you like?” Jonny said. He began listing the items in the basket.

“Just put some bread and cheese on the bench beside me,” Perry interrupted in an uninterested tone. “I’ll eat it when I get a chance.”

“All right,” Jonny said in a small voice.

He inched away from Perry to create some space on the seat and carefully laid out the food Perry had requested along with some small beer.

Perry ignored it at first. In fact, it was near enough an hour before he absentmindedly reached for the bread while they were stuck behind a slow-moving farmer’s cart.

In all that time, Perry didn’t speak. Not even once.

Jonny sat miserably beside him, eating not at all, but instead playing over his own words from the evening before. And Perry’s. And those of his friends.

“You’re an idiot…”

Yes, he was.

* * *

When they finally arrived back at Edgeley Park, Perry tossed the reins of the curricle to the groom who’d come out to meet them and jumped down to the ground.

“Well,” Jonny said, climbing down after him. “I’m grateful to you for accompanying me, Peregrine. Thank you again.”

“It was nothing,” Perry replied as they walked towards the front door, which was already open, a footman standing sentry beside it.

The housekeeper came bustling towards them as they entered the hallway, asking after their journey and if they’d like some refreshment sent up to their rooms. Perry politely declined and strode off, taking the stairs two at a time and disappearing round the bend, leaving Jonny staring after him.

Since Adam and Lysander had gone out, there was no one else to distract him. By the time Jonny had spent an hour in the company of his increasingly unhappy thoughts, he’d had enough. Pulling on his boots, he headed out for some air.

He didn’t notice much of his surroundings, as he walked. He was too busy going over the events of the last day and a half in his mind, by turns berating himself and justifying his actions.

Every time Jonny remembered Perry’s expression when he’d turned down his generous offer, his heart ached. There was no doubt that his reaction had hurt Perry, and he regretted that deeply. Regretted too that he hadn’t explained the real reason for that rejection: that he didn’t want Perry to tire of him. Jonny's failure to admit that had been downright cowardly. He’d been sparing himself the humiliation of admitting the truth to Perry, at Perry’s expense. All because he didn’t want Perry to see Jonny and realise that he was—face it. Unlikeable.

Unlovable.

Jonny stopped in his tracks, choked with sudden grief. He dropped his head into his hands where he stood and tried to bring himself under control. His chest hurt, and his throat ached with the clod of tears lodged there.

Perry had liked him. He'd found Jonny attractive. He'd laughed at Jonny’s jokes and his sometimes outrageous behaviour. He’d liked Jonny’s gaze on him as he painted him. Jonny’s attention.

Now all that was ruined.

Why couldn't they have kept things between them just as they were, with Perry seeing only Jonny’s glittering outer layers—the good looks, and pretty clothes, and wit, and charm?

He didn’twantPerry to dig more deeply to the layers beneath that. To the selfish artist who sometimes wanted to paint alone for days on end, shutting out his companions entirely. To the fussy, nervy man whose anxieties were so wearisome to deal with.

His flaws were legion, and he didn’t want to watch as Perry witnessed them emerging, one by one. Didn’t want to see the gradual ebbing of his affection. Maybe that was a defeatist attitude, but was it defeatist to simply face up to the inevitable?

Anyway, it was too late now. He’d given Perry a complete disgust of him, and he wouldn’t blame the man if he refused to have any more to do with Jonny.

He thought of Perry, posing for him that last day, in the Shepherd's Hut. His body in that heroic stance, his head lowered in graceful humility. Ready to give himself over to selfless service.

Yes, that was Perry.

He thought of him sitting at a desk in a too-small chair, writing to his mother. Driving a curricle with the wind in his hair and a smile on his face.

Lying in Jonny’s bed after making love.