Page 7 of The Labours of Lord Perry Cavendish

“I’m not teasing!” Jonny protested. “Look at that glorious body! Of course I want to paint him nude!”

But Lysander had taken Perry’s arm and was steering him away, saying firmly, “You needn’t agree to pose for him, Perry—not unless you want to, of course. It’s certainly not obligatory for our guests. Now, come with me into the dining room. Dinner’s ready and I know you’ll be famished.” Perry glanced uncertainly at Jonny, before allowing himself to be led out of the room.

Jonny was still frowning at the empty doorway when Adam’s hand landed on his shoulder and his friend leaned in to murmur in his ear, “Go easy. Perry might be a big fellow, but he’s a bit of a pup really. I have a feeling he might be easily scared off. If you’re going to win his trust, you may have to rein in your usual—well,exuberance.”

And with that, he strolled after the others, heading for the dining room and leaving Jonny to bring up the rear.

* * *

Jonny watched Perry Cavendish throughout dinner. Well, at least he did so in between telling stories and generally being utterly sparkling. After all, the wine was flowing, and Jonny was reunited with his best friends, and he did so like to entertain them. Liked to see the indulgent humour in Adam’s warm gaze as it rested on him and Lysander’s ready smile. And really, it was the least he could do, after foisting himself on them again.

There were a few times, when he stopped talking for a moment, that he heard Stephen’s sneering voice in his mind.

“Christ, Jonny, do you ever give it a rest?”

Or his father’s, icy and biting.

“Jonathan, must you rattle on so? I can hardly hear myself think.”

There was a better-than-even chance that when he woke tomorrow morning, he’d wish he had not been so garrulous this evening. His stupid mind would conjure up pictures of Adam and Lysander lying in bed together, talking about how tiresome it was that Jonny dominated the conversation so thoroughly. But those insidious thoughts would come later, when he was alone and quiet. For now, he was enjoying himself.

And during the brief lulls when he wasn’t holding forth, he watched Perry Cavendish.

Perry seemed to be quite a quiet chap, all in all. Not silent or withdrawn, but certainly a deal less talkative than Jonny. Though, in fairness, perhaps he simply couldn’t get a word in edgeways.

But Jonny didn’t think it was just that Perry didn’t get a chance to speak. He was certainly a bit reserved. Whenever he was asked a question, he’d answer promptly enough, but quite briefly, and often with some self-deprecating comment. It struck Jonny that he seemed to be saying as little as possible. As though he was afraid he’d be handed a bill at the end of the evening, charging him by the word. The only person he seemed truly at ease with was Lysander. From time to time, they would slip into a sort of schoolboy banter that made Adam roll his eyes fondly and Jonny chuckle.

“Ain’t you having no pudding, Per?” Lysander asked when the dessert course came out. “Cook’s made flummery—your favourite.”

Perry looked pained. “Don’t,” he said. “I still can’t think about it.”

Lysander cackled with laughter. “Even now? It’s been years!”

Perry just moaned and closed his eyes.

“Flummery?” Adam repeated.

Lysander grinned. “Let’s just say we were very drunk, and Perry was very hungry.”

Perry said mournfully, “Every time I smell rosewater…” Then he broke off, shaking his head as Lysander laughed again.

Jonny liked the hints of shared humour he saw between Perry and Lysander. It made him curious to see more of this side of Perry. He wondered if he would be able to bring it out himself or if Perry would remain relentlessly shy with him.

When all the dishes had been cleared away, they retired to the drawing room.

“You know,” Adam said, addressing Perry as he handed round the port, “I do understand your reservations about allowing Jonny to paint you.”

“What!” Jonny squawked, outraged by this.

Adam ignored him, settling himself down on a small sofa next to Lysander and sliding his arm about the man’s shoulders. Lysander sighed happily and nestled a little closer, setting one hand on Adam’s knee.

“What possible reservation could he have?” Jonny demanded.

Again, Adam ignored him.

“But even so,” he went on, still addressing Perry, “you really must at least visit Jonny’s studio while you’re here to see his work. He left quite a number of pieces behind last time, and they’re truly sublime.”

Mollified by Adam’s praise, Jonny flushed with pleasure. “Do you really think so, my dear?” His voice came out more tentatively than he’d have liked, and that made him flush harder—which was really quite aggravating. He did not like the clash between crimson cheeks and auburn hairat all.