Page 47 of The Labours of Lord Perry Cavendish

Was it unfair to leave before Jonny had had a chance to finish his painting? Probably, but Perry couldn’t face spending long hours alone with him now. He wondered if Jonny felt the same way, or if he viewed what they had shared as a simple dalliance that wasn’t worth getting upset over.

Perhaps, one day, Perry would develop a thicker skin and not take such entanglements so much to heart. Perhaps then he could see Jonny again and offer to let him finish the painting, if he still wanted to. For now, though, Perry simply wasn’t up to it. He still felt the sting of Jonny’s rejection, and the last thing he wanted to do was spend hour upon hour being studied and stared at by a man who did not want him.

He would miss it, though. He’d liked being the object of Jonny’s gaze. No one had ever looked at him like that before, with such absolute and unwavering attention.

Probably that was why he had ended up taking what had happened between them far too seriously.

Glancing at the clock, Perry realised it would soon be time for dinner. He’d have to face Jonny again and pretend to Zander and Adam that he was fine. Already, he dreaded the evening ahead. His stomach twisted as he remembered the awful, silent journey back from Reading. No more of Jonny’s merry prattling but just heavy, oppressive silence. Well, at least Zander and Adam would be at dinner.

Perry put the letter away to be answered later, then washed up and changed into his evening clothes. He headed downstairs and found Zander and Adam in the drawing room, sitting together on a small sofa, Zander leaning back against Adam’s chest and gazing up him while Adam bent over him, smiling teasingly.

They really were disgustingly in love, Perry thought sourly.

“Evening,” he said, alerting them to his presence. His voice came out rather more sharply than he’d intended, and Zander sat up so abruptly, he nearly caught Adam’s chin.

“Perry, you surprised me!” Zander said, straightening up. “How was Reading?”

Adam rose gracefully and went to fetch a drink for Perry.

“It was a bit slow on the way back,” Perry said. “But otherwise fine, and Huxley and Alderton seem like decent chaps.”

Judging by Zander’s frown, he hadn’t done very well on the sounding normal front, but happily, Adam was in front of him now and handing him a glass of wine.

“Any problems with the journey?” Adam asked.

“No,” Perry replied. “We were lucky with the weather, and the roads were good.”

“Peregrine’s an excellent driver,” Jonny said from the doorway, and they all turned to look at him.

He was as elegant as always, in pale pantaloons that clung to his slim legs, a fitted coat of Prussian blue that contrasted starkly with his bright hair, and an oyster silk waistcoat.

“Well, I’m glad he took care of you,” Zander said. “I told you he would, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Jonny murmured, accepting his own wine glass from Adam with a smile. “He took care of me wonderfully well. I’m very grateful.”

He smiled in Perry’s direction, and, to his mortification, Perry, of course, flushed. Christ, he wished he could stop that helpless reaction. An odd resentment churned in his belly at Jonny’s fulsome praise. The man had soundly rejected Perry not twenty-four hours ago, so what was he about with all that gushing? Scowling, Perry turned sharply away and walked over to the windows to stare out at the gardens below.

The sun was low in the sky. It would be twilight soon.

Behind him, the others were still talking.

“How were Jasper and Sam?” Adam asked Jonny. “I’m sorry to have missed them.”

Jonny launched into a monologue about his friends and what they’d talked about the evening before, conveniently ignoring certain parts of the conversation.

Perry tried to ignore his chatter.

After a minute or two, Zander joined him.

“Are you all right, old man?” Zander said softly. “You don’t seem yourself this evening. Did something… happen?”

Perry deliberately kept his gaze on the window. “I’m fine. A bit tired, I suppose. I had to sleep in the smallest bed I’ve ever seen in my life last night.” He gave an unconvincing chuckle.

“You slept alone then.” Zander’s voice contained a note of disappointment that had Perry turning to look at him in surprise.

For a moment they just stared at one another. Then Zander said slowly, “Perhaps I got the wrong end of the stick?”

“If you did, you’re not alone,” Perry said, managing a weak smile. “But as you know, getting the wrong end of the stick is my speciality.”