Page 47

Long and slow.

Half the problem when he got this anxious was that he breathed shallowly, and it fogged his thinking. He paid attention to the expansion and contraction of his chest, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt when it felt too constricting.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept wandering back in time. His insides wouldn’t calm down, remaining tense and uncomfortable, and that meant his thoughts refused to stop spinning.

After persisting for several minutes, he gave up, lit a lantern, and searched the shelves for his favorite book about the foundations of botany. When he couldn’t find it, he recalled having had it in his office, so he carted the lantern through the dark corridors to check whether he’d left it there.

The book was on top of the stack on the nearest corner of his desk, and he returned to the library with it. He got comfortable in his chair, settling in to read the text he knew so well that he could practically recite it. In the flickering light, it was difficult to keep track of where he was, so he traced the lines of print with his fingers.

Eventually, his limbs grew heavy, darkness crept into the edges of his vision, and sleep overtook him.

“Trevor.”

“Wha’ issit?” he mumbled, stretching languidly until a thud knocked him into full consciousness.

He bolted upright, looking around frantically, blinking as the sleep cleared from his eyes. His book had fallen to the floor. He picked it up, carefully checking that it was undamaged. He’d never forgive himself if his own carelessness harmed one of his most precious belongings.

“Trevor.”

Oh lord.

That was his mother’s voice, and she didn’t sound pleased.

Glancing up, he realized that she was standing over him, her hands on her hips.

“You have a caller,” she declared for half the house to hear. “Please tell me you didn’t spend the night here.”

He grimaced sheepishly. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She harrumphed. “Well, clearly you could. You were asleep when I came in.”

It was then that he processed her earlier statement.

“Who’s here? Surely it’s too early for callers?”

“Lord Sylvestor is waiting for you in the parlor. I’ve already asked for him to be served with tea and biscuits, but you ought to make yourself presentable and see what he wants.”

Trevor pushed a hand through his hair, grateful that it was short and looked much the same regardless of what he did with it. He hardly needed his oldest friend to know he hadn’t made it to bed last night.

His mother surveyed him and tutted. “You’re wearing your evening clothes. You’ll need to change first.”

Trevor inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of that. “Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Sighing, she nodded. “I hope you at least managed to get a decent sleep in that awkward position.”

He considered that as he rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes. “My head is remarkably clear.”

“Good.”

He placed the book on the shelf and went to his room. His valet was there, waiting to help him change into new attire and spritz him with cologne. A splash of cold water on his face finished the job of waking him up, and he hurried down the stairs to the parlor, where his friend was waiting.

As he entered, Lord Sylvestor rose from the chaise, his bright eyes shining with concern and a furrow between his brows.

“Can I hug you?” he asked, wringing his hands.

Trevor came up short. He and the baron didn’t often hug, but he could see that his friend needed reassurance, so he nodded.

Immediately, Sylvestor closed the distance between them and hugged Trevor tightly. It wasn’t the sort of backslapping embrace gentlemen usually shared. Instead, it was firm and full of emotion.