“It’s good to have single friends at these events,” Gwen says as she passes Beth a scone. “They’re ever so useful.”
“Lord Cunningham isn’t single, dearest,” James mumbles.
“Though he wishes,” Bobby mutters to Beth, leaning in to sneak a bite of her scone. Meredith winks at him.
“That’s a pity,” Beth whispers back.
“Not all of us have fabulously clever friends,” Bobby says, pressing his shoulder into hers.
“Did I hear you needed more errand men, Lady Gwen?”
They look up to find Thomas Parker standing behind them, dutifully blocking the sun while looking jaunty in his white linen suit and broad straw hat.
“Good to see you, Mr.Parker. Please join us, won’t you?” Meredith says, patting the open spot beside her.
Parker sits down and removes his hat, pretending to inspect it as he passes a note to Meredith. She quickly shoves it into her blue skirt.
“A good morning?” she asks.
“Quite eventful,” Parker says. “Look alive, Lord Demeroven, the race is starting.”
James sits up reluctantly, frowning over at him. “Perhaps if I’d had less whisky last night, I would enjoy the sun more,” he grumbles.
“But we sent you to bed with plenty of time for a good night’s sleep,” Parker says, sliding his eyes over to Bobby, who tries to look entirely innocent.
After their dinner and card game with Parker and Cunningham, which involved more schedule-making and planningthan cards, he and James may have stayed awake all night in a drunken revel, glorying in their impending freedom.
“Lumpy bed,” James says, shaking his head as both Beth and Gwen giggle. “At least Cunningham looks worse than I do,” he adds.
Cunningham makes his way through the thinning throng of onlookers, carrying three ices with a grimace. His white shirt is stained with red and one of his suspenders is slipping down his arm.
“Think this will have to be the only run for ice, Lady Mason,” he says, exhaustion heavy in his voice as he passes the ices to Albie and Meredith and then collapses on Albie’s other side.
“Crowded?” Bobby asks.
“Absolutely mobbed,” Cunningham agrees around a mouthful of his own red treat. “However, it was a useful trip.”
“Did you manage to bump into Scotsman? He said he was looking for you,” Parker says, nonchalant.
“I did. And he had Gladmon with him. They’re both most interested in a dinner with our motley group later this week. Gladmon might be interested in investing with us too,” Cunningham adds to Parker. “Seems he needs to rebuild his holdings after being taken in by a bad actor who threatened to go to his father for repayment right after school.”
Bobby glances at James, watches the way his shoulders slump momentarily. Not everyone Raverson has tried to extort has had the support he and James have. They’re so lucky to have their family, to have Uncle Dashiell. No one should ever have to fear the retribution of their relatives, or the ostracization of society, or, worse, imprisonment for simply being who they are.
“Scotsman and Gladmon think they might be able to set up a few other dinners for us as well,” Cunningham continues, looking to Meredith. “I gave them both your card, Lady Mason.”
“Wonderful,” Meredith says. “I think we’re all having a most productive week thus far.”
Bobby catches James’ eye, both of them determined. James is a little sun-kissed, a little rumpled, and entirely, thoroughly his. They’re going to fix this. They’re going to take Raverson down, all of them, he can feel it.
“So, Mason, what are your plans for the shooting season?” Parker asks, wrenching Bobby’s gaze from James.
He turns to look at Parker, noting everyone on the picnic blanket smirking. All right, they’re going to take Raverson downandfigure out how to stop mooning over each other in public. At least, they’re going to try.
***
“Yes, pull taut over there,” James calls across the stern at Gwen as she expertly secures the halyard.
The choppy waters of the Solent slap against their small yacht. Bobby holds tight to Beth, the two of them being shunted around the small vessel while James, Gwen, Cunningham, and Parker capably steer them along the coastline.
