“And you need to think about whether people like me are worthy?”
Maurice gulped.“All people are worthy.Please don’t twist my words or thoughts before I’ve articulated them.”
“I refuse to be manipulated, your Grace.”
Maurice’s chest clenched tight.“Are you so determined to see the worst in me?”Everything hurt, even his toes, which was disconcerting.He’d assumed they were friends, or at least that Sebastian respected him as much as he respected Sebastian.And now they’d fucked, Maurice had hoped they would become closer, but Sebastian seemed determined to push him away.
“I might be an orphan who lives on a farm, but I’ve seen enough of the world to know the toffs always take what they want and screw over the rest of us.It’s not about you, specifically, but when you say things that imply you want to gather your thoughts, it feels like manipulation.”
“Oh.I didn’t want to lash out accidentally.”
“Why would you lash out?”
“You criticised my whole life, right after dismissing my comment about how hard it is to find genuine friends.I am allowed to have feelings about that.”He hadn’t meant to be so open.What was it about Sebastian that took away all his careful filters?
Sebastian made a short humph of a noise and uncrossed his arms.“Is dinner going to arrive soon?”
Maurice was glad for the change in subject—for the respite from the intense crackle between them, as if the air was heavy with a waiting storm—so he stood up and rang the bell pull and a footman immediately entered the room.“How far away is dinner?”
“I will investigate, your Grace.”
“And bring some bread and cheese back with you immediately.My guest is hungry.”He might not understand anything of what was happening between him and Sebastian, but at least he could be a good host.The footman scurried off and Maurice sat down again.
“I didn’t invite you to dinner to argue with you, Sebastian.”
“Is that an apology?”
Maurice didn’t know how to respond to Sebastian when he was like this, mostly because he’d never been like this before.They often argued about the horses, with Sebastian’s knowledge and quick wit turning even the biggest arguments into feisty banter.It was usually fun to pit himself against Sebastian, but this was the opposite.It hurt and it confused him, leaving him rattled and uncertain.
“No.It’s not.I refuse to apologise for my life.I didn’t choose this.”
“Exactly.None of us choose where we are born.It’s just luck that you ended up with everything and the rest of us get to fight for the scraps.I will never own any of the horses on this farm, Maurice, no matter how lauded I am with my skills.”
“What do you want from me?”He stopped playing the politician and let his frustration out.
“I want you to...”Sebastian put his hands on his head and leaned back.“Just stay in your big house and leave me alone.”
Maurice didn’t think anything could hurt more than it already did.Heat pricked the back of his eyes, adding embarrassment to hurt.He wasn’t going to cry in front of his lover.Former lover?Damnation.He swallowed.
“Was it so terrible to be with me?”he whispered.He’d thoroughly enjoyed their time in bed—would beg to have Sebastian again and again—but maybe it had been just a boring release for Sebastian.Damn these doubts.
The door opened before Sebastian answered.Had he even heard him?Hopefully not.
Footmen arrived with the soup course as well as several platters of bread and cheese.It was ridiculously over the top and much more food than the pair of them needed in a week, and the hairs on the back of Maurice’s neck rose as a cold chill brushed over his skin.He hardly needed Sebastian to see this example of ducal excess when they’d just been arguing about it.
“Your Grace, asparagus soup, and the bread and cheese you requested.”
He nodded and waited until the footmen had left the room.Normally they would stay to serve, but he’d requested privacy tonight.The gossip between the servants would be at an all-time high tonight, stoked by his own actions and choices.God.What a god-awful mess he’d made of this.
“Are you intending to feed an army tonight, your Grace?”
He breathed in slowly.“In a fashion.Nothing is wasted by Cook.It all goes to the servants afterwards or to the chickens and pigs.I realise this looks excessive—”
“It is.”
“Yes.”He may as well admit it.“Please try the soup, Sebastian.”He stood to ladle some soup from the tureen into Sebastian’s bowl.
“You don’t need to serve me, your Grace.I am, after all, to be lumped in with servants, chickens, and pigs.”
