Chapter Fourteen
October 24, 1834
Belgrave Square, London
Dear Cassin,
I am writing to inform you never to call, or write, or bloody cross to my side of the bloody road to say bollocks, you worthless rotter of a former friend. Thank you for absolutely nothing. This letter has been dispatched in duplicate to Joseph.
I understand that Sabine has sent word that an attempt was taken on my life and my subsequent abandonment in a morgue. I have rallied, no thanks to you, and I urge you to reverse any plans to call on me in London. I would rather return to the morgue than receive such a disloyal friend.
Your indifference will live with me forever, you selfish whoreson. I cannot believe you left my moldering form, half-dead, as a burden to my wife. Your true mettle has been revealed. Go to bloody hell.
Sincerely,
Jon G. Stoker
Brent Caulder, the Earl of Cassin, tossed the letter aside and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. He looked at his friend Joseph Chance across the desk. “That’s putting it lightly.”
“He’s livid,” said Joseph. “I can’t say that I’ve ever heard him write so much in one letter.”
“It’s partly in jest,” said Cassin. “Surely. He’s angry but it’s hardly his style to harangue us for beingrude. What he’s really trying to say is this:Don’t come.
“Yes, buried neatly beneath profanity and accusation,” said Joseph.
“I’m relieved, at least, that he’s out of danger. If he can write this letter, he’s clearly recovered. He’s tougher than all of us put together. I never doubted it.”
“Who would have guessed. A knife fight to bring them together. Cupid’s arrow can take many forms, I suppose,” said Joseph. “Naturally, Stoker, of all people, would require a blade to the spleen to be brought ’round. He always was the dashing one.”
“One thing’s clear. We were correct to keep away. Despite this obvious temper-fit letter. If we’d rushed to his aid, Sabine would have never considered him.”
“She might send him away yet.”
“If Sabine’s letters to Tessa can be believed, there is quite a bit more happening in Belgravia beyond bandage-changing and soup-eating.”
“Whatever it takes,” chuckled Cassin, leaning back. “I should have stabbed him myself, years ago.”
“Well, you might say we’ve stabbed him in the back by not coming. That’s what he believes.Abandoned.”
“Well, abandoned for his own good,” Cassin sighed. “He will thank us in the end.”
