‘Guilty,’ Freddie said, with a warm smile as he bowed. ‘How do you do, my lord?’
‘Reid, please,’ he insisted, offering his hand.
The young man took it, surprise and appreciation in his eyes.
‘Welcome.’ Liam felt his smile fading, and forced himself to forge on. ‘Shall we adjourn inside? There is coffee waiting for us in the drawing room. Then I imagine you will wish to refresh yourselves?’
Spencer concurred with a nod, and Liam led him inside, closely followed by Freddie.
The door closed, and Rebecca and Gregory divested the gentlemen of coats, hats and gloves, whilst outside Thomas, the grooms and the Marquess’s valet saw to unpacking the carriage. Liam then guided his guests to the drawing room, where, by some magical feat only servants could manage, Lizzie awaited them with the promised refreshments.
They talked and sipped coffee, sampled little sandwiches and freshly baked scones, spoke of the journey and the weather and everyone’s health for nigh on two hours, until finally, Liam convinced his guests they should rest and settle into their quarters.
He was glad when he was left alone in the drawing room.
It was mind-numbingly easy to resume his place in society—and it made him want to scream. Though it was pleasant enough to see Spencer again, he could not help but feel none of it was right. He no longer belonged. He no longer wished to.
Had he more courage, he might have run away before they arrived. Had he more courage, he might have done a great deal many things.
Soon, you will be able to be rid of them. Soon...
‘I was asking, Reid,’ Spencer said loudly, a glint of mischief in his eyes, tearing Liam sharply from the reverie he’d slipped into, staring at the flame of the candles before him on the dinner table.
He looked around to find his guests staring at him expectantly, and graced them with the polite smile he had been using all too often today.
‘What are your plans, now that you’ve returned to England?’
‘None that are quite cemented enough to be shared, I fear,’ Liam said, returning his attention to his plate, intent on savouring Mrs Murray’s beef roast. Intent on ignoring everythingbutthe roast, really.
Today had felt interminable, as though time had been slowed to purposely lengthen his torture. To an outsider, the day would have seemed an altogether quiet and convivial affair, filled with tours of the house and gardens, a lively afternoon meal, a game of billiards and spirited conversation. To Liam, however, it all had served only as a reminder of the dull emptiness that filled such a life as he was meant to live.
A life without true purpose.
He’d found some solace in the time he’d spent with Spencer—who, for all his airs, was a shrewd, practical fellow—and Freddie—who proved himself to be an intelligent, enterprising young man, who had built his own company and fortune from nothing, and was a self-made man such as Liam liked. But for all the camaraderie he’d found, his spirits had only worsened. With every passing moment, so grew his restlessness and desire for his guests to take their leave, even as they had only just arrived.
To top it all, he’d received a letter that afternoon from Leonards, stating in no uncertain terms that his dream, his plans, were impossible.
All he wanted was to return to the world as it had been before his guests’ arrival. The world in which Thornhallow actually felt like home, complete with a family. Complete with Rebecca.
It was a terrifying thought, that his hatred of the place had been so diminished, yet it also felt inevitable. Rebecca’s light had finally pushed back the darkness, and he... When she was gone the darkness returned.
At odd moments throughout the day, he’d found himself praying that she might come to him, or that he might find the courage to go to her. He longed to sayDamn it all, and rush down to the servants’ quarters and tell her everything, beg her forgiveness. But he did not. Rebecca had made it clear that any feelings either of them had were to be forgotten, pushed away into some dark, forgotten place.
She had remained unseen, out of reach, more a wraith haunting his house than Hal had ever been. Hidden in her own realm, she had ensured, with her usual flair, that the household ticked along like clockwork. She’d made her presence felt, to him at least, by her absence, and the hole it left within him. The world they had created existed only in a time which had passed, and could never be found again. Not for all his wishing.
Though now he found himself wishing that she’d remained unseen. Rebecca had been forced into his presence for dinner, if only to bring in the food with Lizzie, and her nearness taunted him more than her absence.
Focus. Spencer. Unwanted questions.
‘It is only months since I’ve returned, and there is much for me to reacquaint myself with.’
‘Surely, you have returned for a reason,’ Spencer continued, his conviviality now verging on interrogation.
The tension grew, not only at the table, but also among the servants. Thomas and Gregory straightened almost imperceptibly. Though whether it was because someone was questioning the master, or because they too desperately longed for the answer, was anyone’s guess.
I, too, long for answers. But I have none to give, even to myself.
‘As you say, it is months since your return,’ Spencer said, lazily sipping his wine, though the sharp intent in his eyes belied his relaxed manner. ‘You must have formulated some scheme, made preparations for your future, and that of the Earldom.’
