It was the size of a child.
Leonard sat up in bed, his breath coming quickly and his shirt clinging to him. His hair lay matted to the back of his head, and sweat trickled down his neck. He looked about his room, almost maniacally, but there was no one in it but him.
He threw the covers back and stumbled to the window, throwing it open. Gulping in the cold air, he tried to calm his breaths. And once he felt settled enough to think more clearly,he peeled his shirt off and threw it to the floor, letting the icy breeze dry the perspiration off his chest.
Turning from the window, he pressed his back to the sill and sank to the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leonard leaned against the wall, staring out the front window. Everything passed by like a blur, his eyes open but unseeing. So much had happened three days past, and now he seemed incapable of believing any of it had truly occurred. And yet, the ring sitting on the table in the other room proved otherwise. Not to mention the cuts and bruises all over his body being a constant reminder as well. Even though the pain was no longer as sharp, it still remained.
A familiar form coming up the front steps of his family’s townhouse grabbed his attention. Ambrose, ever levelheaded, would be a comfort to speak to in such times as this, when Leonard’s own mind couldn’t seem to find rest or solace. He had called a meeting of sorts with him and Andrew, two of his most sensible friends, hoping they would speak some sense into him.
“Stanton,” Ambrose said on a rush of breath, quickly crossing the room. He had forgotten to leave his hat at the door with Fitzroy, who followed after him.
“Sir, your hat,” Fitzroy said, holding out a hand.
Ambrose jerked, then nodded as he took off his hat and gloves, then ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. “Thank you.”
Fitzroy dipped a quick bow, then turned to Leonard. “Need you anything before I leave?”
“No,” Leonard said, shaking his head. “That will be all.” And then his man of all trades was off.
“Now,” Ambrose said, taking a seat and gesturing for Leonard to do so as well. “What is going on? You had me completely worried. I almost came yesterday as soon as I received your letter.” His eyes traced Leonard from head to toe. “Whatever has happened to your face?”
“Perhaps we should wait for Andrew to arrive before I get into the ugly whole of it.” Leonard scrubbed his brow. “Fitzroy,” he yelled out.
The man scurried back into the room. “Yes, sir.”
“I do believe I will take some tea after all.” Then Leonard looked at his friend as Fitzroy took his leave. “I do not even know where to begin with the insanity of the last two weeks.”
“Does this have to do with that Gillingham woman?” Ambrose leaned back into his seat, but his gaze was direct. He would not be leaving without hearing the whole of it.
Leonard rubbed a hand over his mouth. “It might.” His heart now ached like the rest of him, remembering Honora and her bright smiles . . . and her lying, deceitful lips.
“I knew it. Something seemed off at Tristan’s.”
“Let us wait for Andrew to arrive before I get into it.”
With a sigh that spoke of impatience, Ambrose nodded. “Very well.”
The tea was rolled in by a kitchen maid, and she handed both men a cup. By the time Leonard was halfway through his drink, Langford strode into the room.
“What in heaven’s name is going on.” He took a seat beside Ambrose, helping himself to tea. “You had me worried sick after your letter.” His eyes widened. “Gads, man. Your face.”
Leonard sighed. “I do not believe I was that dramatic in my writings.”
His eyes flitted about Leonard, as if not believing what he was seeing. “No, but for you, any form of dramatics is enough cause for concern.” He added cream to his cup, stirring it in before taking a more relaxed stance in his seat as if settling in. “Please, do not keep us in suspense. Based on your appearance, this will surely be quite the tale.”
Where to even begin? Probably with everything that set this whole ugly affair in motion.
“I will try to keep this brief,” he said. But deep down, he wasn’t sure how he could manage that without everyone being entirely lost. “It all began with the wager.”
“I still don’t have my money, by the way,” Ambrose said, then took a rather loud sip of his tea.
“All in good time.” Leonard sat forward, clasping his hands together. “Now, Langford, you already know half the story.”
Nodding, he said, “I figured as much.”
