Chapter Eleven #2
Unable to tame his cowlick, Seth reached for the old container of pomade that Cooper gifted him, and combed the cedarwood scented balm through his hair.
“How is that working out for you?” Cooper asked.
“Surprisingly well.” Seth couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips.
He would have to buy his own pomade, in a fragrance that Cassandra wouldn’t associate with her brother.
What a thrill it would be to have her notice.
Of course, he would have to do some research to select something meaningful.
A language for plants and flowers. Who would have known?
Already plans were whirling in his head, but first… .
“I want to talk to you about your sister,” Seth started, but Cooper shook his head and raised his hands in a staying gesture.
“I’m going to stop you.” He crossed his arms. “I already know what you’re going to ask, and the answer is no.”
“No?” Seth’s voice sounded hollower than he intended.
“I spoke to the housekeeper yesterday, and the manor is at full capacity. There isn’t another room she can be moved to. You’ll have to get over that, too.”
Wait… what?
Reeling from the unexpected shift, Seth pivoted. One thing at a time. The rooming situation also needed to be addressed. Bringing up courtship should probably wait until after Cassandra moved to another room, now that he thought about it.
He truly was out of sorts this morning.
“There are ninety bedchambers in this manor and every single one is occupied?” Seth asked incredulously.
Cooper gave an apologetic shrug. “That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Here’s an idea.” Seth pointed his finger at his friend. “Give her your bedchamber!”
“I’m next to Duke Kendall!’ Cooper’s voice rose an octave. “I’m not putting Cassandra near him! He makes my skin crawl. Why are you so adamant about getting her away from you? If she’s overbearing, I can talk to her—”
“No!”
Cooper’s eyes widened at Seth’s volume, and he said quieter, “It isn’t that. I can’t sleep with her in the room next to me. I know that as soon as I close my eyes here, it’ll be… you know how it’ll be, Cooper.”
Seth turned from Cooper, distracted by a tiny brown sparrow that landed on the windowsill outside. It chirped cheerfully before flying away.
“Cassandra knows about your… sleeping habits,” Cooper said after some time.
Breathing deeply, choosing his words carefully, he continued, “I didn’t mention it before because it didn’t warrant a conversation, and you certainly never wanted to talk about it, so we all gave you your space…
but the walls in Cooper House are thin.” Cooper’s tone gentled, and it made Seth sick to hear it, insultingly placating.
“Cassandra is better equipped to tolerate it than most, I can assure you.”
But Seth felt no reassurance. Instead, he felt more wretched. How many nights had he kept the Cooper household awake? What Cassandra must think of him. Weak and broken.
“She shouldn’t have to hear it,” Seth said bitterly.
“Do you truly believe you’ll sleep better with anyone else next to you?”
Seth remained silent. Cooper couldn’t have known the double meaning that he took to his words.
No, he didn’t want anyone else next to him.
For the briefest of moments in the library, he had fallen asleep.
It was glorious, but not as much as waking up.
Seth could wake every morning to Cassandra’s serene smile, but a wall between them was the best that he could offer her.
“Give it a try tonight. Get into that bed and sleep, instead of holing yourself up all night reading…” Cooper grabbed the book from the desk and read the cover, “The Misadventures of Miss Moffet and Muffins?”
Cooper gave him a look of unabashed judgement.
“If you need a bed time story, perhaps you should try whiskey?”
Seth snatched the book from him and tossed it on his bed.
“Not here.”
“He doesn’t own you. You can do whatever you want.”
No, Seth thought miserably. I can’t.
As Seth opened his door to leave, a young boy fell into the room, head and shoulders tumbling onto the ground.
Dressed in the uniform of a servant, the clothes a size too large for his frame, the boy’s brown hair was slicked back and trimmed in the fashion that Lord Bolderwood required for all of his staff.
The shine of his boots put Seth’s own to shame.
The boy recovered, rolled onto his feet, and stood at attention. Brown eyes stared star-struck at Seth, not seeming to register the Viscount behind him.
“An eavesdropper?” Cooper asked, peeking his head around Seth.
“No!” The boy waved his hands in the air between them.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping! I was waiting for Captain Reeves!
” He stood at attention once more. “My name is Trevor, mi’lord, and I wish to be your valet.
I’ve been practicin’—practicing!—I can shine a shoe, better than anyone else in the Manor, even the Earl hisself can’t shine a shoe like I can. ”
Trevor puffed out his chest in pride.
“No,” Seth said and walked down the hallway.
Undeterred, Trevor followed him. “It’s not only shoes! I can tie a cravat, fasten buttons, sew, read and write. I’m good with most tools, I can—”
“I don’t need a valet.”
Trevor paused in his diatribe and squinched his face.
“That’s not what I’m hearing in the kitchen, mi’lord.”
“I’m not a lord.” Seth fought the urge to tear his hair out.
“Yes sir… Sir?”
“Sir,” Seth affirmed with an exhausted sigh. Cooper chuckled next to him. Seth shot him a glare.
“I have nothing to pay you.” Seth started down the staircase into the main hall.
“I’ll pay him,” Cooper offered, lightly taking the steps.
“You have nothing to pay him.” Seth scowled, turning his attention to the boy. “And even if he did, I’m not going to poach you from Margaret.”
“Who is Margaret?” Cooper asked.
“The housekeeper?” Seth turned to Trevor. “Is Margaret still the housekeeper?”
“She was this morning mi’—sir,” he responded. “Please consider the offer, I’m willing to apprentice for shelter and food. I’m a fast learner, everyone says so—”
“How old are you?” Cooper asked.
“Fourteen, mi’lord,” Trevor said. “Turned fourteen this summer. Old enough to be on my own. I can start today. My Ma has already given her permission for—”
“Can you learn to be quiet?” Seth interrupted him, rubbing a circle into his temple.
Clamping his mouth shut, the boy nodded.
When Seth turned the corner to the breakfast room, Duke Kendall stood steps ahead, speaking with Bishop, and another man who—
Seth froze in the hallway.
Trevor bumped into his back.
Seth gripped his shaking hands into fists, and Cooper’s eyes followed the movement.
Seth didn’t notice it, or anything else.
His heart rate increased, and he begged himself to focus!
Focus-Focus-Focus! The words repeated in his mind, but he couldn’t process them over the ringing in his ears and the blackness shadowing his vision.
“Reeves?” Cooper asked slowly. Turning to follow Seth’s gaze, his eyes widened in comprehension.
Even with his back to him, Seth recognized Sir Reginald Thomas, uncle to Bishop… and father of the man Seth left to burn to death. All thoughts disappeared. Seth did the only thing he could.
He ran.
Weaving through the halls, he found an empty room. He couldn’t stop it, he was falling, he couldn’t breathe—
Distantly, Cooper’s voice urged him, “Get it together, Reeves! Breathe!”
Memories slashed together—
“Breathe!”
—he’s not moving, he’s not—
“—breathing, he’s not—!”
—Cassandra, breathless. “Please—”
Sliding against the wall, head in his hands, suffocating, he would suffocate—
—Amber eyes. “Please don’t let me fall—”
“—please, Captain, don’t let me… I don’t want to…”
—on his hands and his knees, retching. Bishop’s voice, “Damn it Captain! Where is—”
“Reeves!”
“What’s wrong with him?!”
“Boy! Go get—should be—bloody hell—! Go!”
“—hold him still! We need to—”
—agony, every fiber in his being erupting—
—Eyes filled with pity, boots clipping away—
Boots coming closer, “Seth—”
—Lashes fluttering, sighing. “Seth.”—
—Eyes snapping open, screaming, “Seth!”—
Oh God, he was screaming—he couldn’t stop screaming—
“Seth! Stop!”
Hard hands clamped down onto his shoulders.
Lunging forward, shoving at the hands, grappling, pain as his knees slammed to the ground, he snarled, “Don’t touch me!”
Nostril’s flaring. Heart racing. Eyes focusing… he stared down into the frightened eyes of Matthew Cooper, hands to his side sprawled out on the floor.
Seth’s hands around his throat.
With a horrified gasp, Seth shot back and away from him. He curled his knees to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, seizing his muscles to hold the tremors at bay.
Fingers twitching, he almost—he could have—!
Cooper sat up. Shaking visibly, he scooted across the floor. Holding the wall for support, he struggled to his feet. He gasped and wheezed, rubbing his throat.
“Understood,” he rasped. “No touching.”
Seth couldn’t fight his stream of tears or the mucus running from his nostrils. He wiped both on his sleeve.
What have I done?
Behind them, the door opened, and someone stepped inside.
Wonderful. A spectator.
Seth squeezed his hands tight, fingernails digging into his palms and grit his teeth. His legs regained feeling, but were not yet strong enough to allow him to stand.
Cooper croaked, “I’m sorry for bothering you. I didn’t know what else to do.”
A wordless exchange occurred behind his back, and Cooper left, footsteps hurrying down the hall.
The door closed.
“Are you finished?” Lord Bolderwood’s voice dripped with annoyance. “Or are you going to spend the rest of the day watering the carpet?”
I hate you, you son of a bitch. A thousand curses were at the tip of his tongue. Seth bit down on his molars, jaw painfully protesting at the pressure required to keep it closed.
“Clean yourself up. Breakfast is in ten minutes.”
Still fighting tremors, Seth stood and faced the man who had raised him, trained him, and sent him to war to be maimed inside and out, until all that remained was scar tissue.
“I’ll be late.” Seth marched past him. “I’ll lock myself in my bedchamber tonight.”
Save you the damned trouble.