“That would be wonderful. Anything you have.” Francis smiled sweetly. “And I wish you’d call me Francis.”
Wynne looked at Lindsay and Lindsay chuckled. “He won’t do that, my dear. He won’t even call me by name, will you, Wynne?”
“It doesn’t strike me as appropriate,” Wynne said. “Iamyour servant after all—and what if I forget myself at a time when I must convince as a high-in-the-instep valet?” He shook his head firmly. “No, best to keep to one form of address so no mistakes can be made.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Francis admitted reluctantly. “Though I’m glad I don’t need a valet.”
“You should hire one,” Lindsay said, eyeing Francis’s drab grey suit. “Your clothes are truly appalling, my dear.”
“Perhaps, but they’re easy to get on and off without assistance, so I count myself the luckier of the two of us,” Francis replied dryly. “I mean look at this!” He plucked at the sleeve of Lindsay’s banyan. “It’s hardly practical.”
“My darling,” Lindsay replied. “One does not wear something as beautiful as this to be practical. One wears it to be utterly exquisite.”
“Well, you are that,” Francis replied, laughing. He picked up the fresh pot of tea Wynne set on the table in front of him and poured himself a cup.
“How’s Marguerite?” Lindsay asked.
“Same as ever,” Francis said, his eyes twinkling. “Grows more beautiful every day.”
“And Blaireau?”
Francis’s smile dimmed a little. “He was laid up with a fever for a fortnight shortly after you left. He’s better now, but—slower.” He paused. “You know, my dear, he is four-and-eighty now.”
Lindsay nodded, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat. “I know.”
“He’s perfectly content. Content in a way we cannot comprehend. The fact is, he’s reached a point in his life we may never get to.” Francis gave Lindsay a curious look. “In truth, I envy him.”
Lindsay considered that. He did not precisely envy Blaireau—it was difficult to envy a man his physical deterioration—but yes, there was something Blaireau had that he and Francis did not. Some secret he seemed to know that for all Lindsay’s longer years he was yet to learn. If Francis thought that was a comfort to Lindsay though, he was very much mistaken. That insight would not lessen Lindsay’s grief one iota when the time came. The truth was, every time he made a friend of a mortal, he planted a seed of future grief.
Glancing across the kitchen, Lindsay’s gaze caught on Wynne slicing bread, and his chest ached. He should never have allowed Wynne to get under his skin. He should have turned him off when they left Rouen.
Perhaps one day he’d learn his lesson.
Deliberately changing the subject, Lindsay said, “Did you take care of the Aubrière business?”
“Oh, yes,” Francis said breezily. “A small investment in some government bonds took care of it.”
Lindsay stifled a groan. The last thing they should be doing, with the French government falling apart and revolution in the air, was buying bonds—he was amazed Marguerite had countenanced that. Still, she must have agreed and it was, ultimately, her decision. He forced a smile and said lightly, “And so, my dear, we come to the question of what brings you to Edinburgh.”
“Call it a whim,” Francis said lightly. “I decided to come and see how this Naismith business is going. Besides, I’ve been hankering for a change of scene and it’s a good ten years since I was last here. I like Edinburgh—it’s very egalitarian.”
Lindsay regarded his friend steadily. He didn’t quite believe that explanation and the slight flush across Francis’s cheeks wasn’t helping to convince him. Perhaps, though, he was merely being careful in front of Wynne.
“Oh, very egalitarian,” he agreed. “Everyone swills through the same filth, rich and poor alike.”
Francis laughed. “You can scoff, but there’s something to be said for it.”
“Well, it won’t be like this for much longer. Have you seen this “New Town” they’re building?”
Francis nodded. “It’s very elegant. Very... classical.”
“Quite so,” Lindsay agreed. “And would you believe our friend Mr. Cruikshank has already moved there?”
“Really?” Francis seemed surprised.
“Yes—I was at his new house for dinner last night.” He tried to banish all other thoughts of the previous night, but as soon as he said the words, the memory of Drew overwhelmed him, and he knew his scent must be all over the place.
Francis’s gaze was careful. At length he said, “What did you make of him?”
