thirty-five
The argument with Rowan kept worrying Tristan for the whole day.
He winced as he got dressed with his valet’s help. Effie would be there soon, and he didn’t want to spend another day in bed when the sun was shining. The more he lay in bed, the more dark thoughts gathered in his mind like stormy clouds.
“I’ve almost finished, my lord.” James brushed Tristan’s dark jacket and straightened it.
The valet was paying extra care, careful not to accidentally hurt him.
“Thank you, James.” Tristan angled towards his valet. “I didn’t mean to be harsh the other day.”
James lifted a shoulder. “Nothing to worry about, my lord. I understand.”
“Nevertheless, thank you.”
James nodded, radiating happiness.
Once ready, Tristan paused in front of Rowan’s bedroom and peeked inside. His brother was studying at his desk, hunched over a book.
He knocked. “Lady Effie is coming here today. Would you like to see her?”
“Maybe. I have to study. Uncle George should come soon, and I want to go to the stables.” Rowan didn’t turn around.
“We should talk.” He stepped closer.
“When I’m not busy.” Rowan made ‘busy’ sound like a hiss.
A protest died in his mouth. He guessed he deserved the cold treatment. He must have said the same thing to Rowan countless times.
“I do care about you. I didn’t prove it, but I’ll do better in the future. I know I disappointed you, and I’m sorry.”
Footsteps approached, and George appeared from the stairs. “Morning, Tristan.”
“George.” He hoped to avoid another endless discussion about his health and his passing out.
But George didn’t speak. He put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. Tristan nodded, understanding what George meant. His friend was there for him.
George turned towards Rowan. “How’s my favourite lad doing?”
Rowan’s face transformed from serious to cheerful. “Homework. Maths.” He waved a notebook.
“It’s your lucky day. Maths is my favourite subject. I’ll help you.” George sat next to Rowan, and the two started chatting and laughing.
Tristan released his frustration with a long breath and walked to the door, but as he left the room, he caught Rowan watching him.
He went down the stairs one step at a time both because of the pain and because he didn’t want Harris to send for Dr. O’Neil again if he fell.
“My lord.” Harris waited for him at the base of the stairs, and Tristan was glad that the butler didn’t hurry to help him. “Lady Effie is in the garden. I’ll serve tea in the sunroom.”
The thought of seeing Effie sent a jolt of energy through him. “Excellent.” He missed the last step and slipped, but Harris was there to steady him with a gentle grip.
“Thank you, Harris.” He clasped the butler’s arm.
“I’m here for you, my lord, as always. I promised your late father I would watch over you.”
Maybe it was the kind tone with which Harris said that, but Tristan had to blink to clear his vision. He’d been a cold-hearted bastard with his servants.
“I know, and I’m grateful for everything you do.”
