Chapter 35
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.”
Harris smiled as James had done, a bright, wide smile of happiness.
They remained still for a moment, smiling at each other.
“Lady Effie is waiting, my lord.” Harris’s voice cracked.
“Thank you.”
Effie stood in the sunlight amongst the bushes of tulips. She turned when he stepped outside. Her light yellow gown had a matching underskirt with a fringe rim that undulated every time she moved, catching the light.
Finally, a sense of calm eased the tension in his shoulders. “Effie.”
She raked a gaze over him, a clinical gaze, not a ravishing one. “How are you?”
“Better. My head still hurts, and the ribs sting, but I feel more rested.” Even his confusion started to settle, and the constant rage was quiet, silenced by the affection everyone around him showed.
She hooked an arm through his and started promenading along the path. “I thought about you a lot.”
He sucked in a breath. “Did you? I thought about you, too.”
“Oh, I thought about you, but I also did my research,” she said, blushing. “Don’t be disappointed. It’s the scientist in me. I’m compelled to open a book to find answers.”
“You could never disappoint me. The important thing is that you thought of me.” He fought the urge to kiss her. “Research on what?”
“Your case.”
He angled towards her. “Am I a case now?”
“Medically speaking, yes.” She released his arm to rummage through her pocket and fish out a notepad. She showed him a page packed with unreadable notes, arrows, and too many exclamation points. “I read about the case of a pig—”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, shush.” She waved at him, and he couldn’t help but smile. “There was a special pig for competitions. He won twenty-two national pork awards.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No.” She scowled. “He was a famous animal. They called him Mr. Barry, the envy of many farmers. Anyway, he too had trouble overcoming his fear of loud noises, which was an impediment to his competitions, and once again, he was cured with controlled restriction and by the owner keeping him company during a crisis.”
“And?” He paused to watch the flight of two blue butterflies. He’d never noticed them in his garden.
“That would be something we want to try.”
Her ‘we’ brightened his day more than the sunlight.
“You want to tie me down,” he said in a teasing tone.
She let out a nervous chuckle. “No, no. What an idea.”
He pinned her with a glare, feigning to be outraged.
“Well, it’s an idea.” She closed the notebook with a snap. “I want to help you. That’s all.”
“And I appreciate it. Even though you’ve just compared me to a pig.”
“Mr. Barry, a national champion.”
He laughed but had to stop when the pain in his ribs became too sharp.
She wrapped her arm around his again. “I can’t imagine how you must feel to enjoy pain and crave it.”
He put a hand on his aching ribs. “I don’t enjoy every type of pain.
If I fall from my horse and hurt my back, I feel nothing but annoyance.
There are moments when I become nervous, and restless energy torments me.
At first, I thought doing something physically exhausting would help.
It did for a while, but my body demanded something more each time.
Something more intense. The relief lasted for shorter times.
” He lowered his voice. “My visits to The Octagon have become more frequent as of late.”
Compassion softened her features. “I would like to see this place to understand what it’s like.”
“No. It’s not a place for you. Once you see certain things, you can’t forget them.”
“I’m hopeful.” She brushed his hand, sending a shot of desire down his back that wasn’t completely pleasant. “If a pig made it, so can you.”
“Thank you for the encouragement,” he quipped. “I feel much better now.”
She laughed, and he enjoyed watching her so carefree.
“Thank you.” He squeezed her hand. “Your help means a lot, especially now.”
“You look sad. Is something the matter?”
“Rowan doesn’t want to talk to me.” He followed two squirrels rushing up a tree. Again, another surprise. He didn’t know there were squirrels in his garden. “He knows about me, knows I lied to him about his mother, and he didn’t take it well.”
“He’s a sensitive boy. Give him time. Would you like me to talk to him?”
“I would be grateful. Mostly, I’m concerned about him.”
“I’ll do my best.”