Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Cameron pulled the duvet over his head, wishing with all of his heart that the material was soundproof.
“I will not permit another day of this behavior, Cameron—you need to get up.” Lennon was marching around his bedchamber, slamming drawers, opening curtains and generally being a stubborn old codger and a nuisance.
Cameron groaned loudly. “What have I done?”
He’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.
“Cameron.”
Lennon spoke loudly above him as the duvet was snatched away. Cameron jumped and flinched like an exposed, oversized rodent.
“You are being ridiculous. I’m embarrassed of you.”
“Can you blame me?” Cameron asked, his voice hysterical.
“What have I done, Len? What have I brought into my home—his father! Did you hear him? My God, did you see the way he behaved? This is a disaster. A fiasco.” He did not like other vampires in general, but Lord Charles Blakeley had set a bold new standard.
Cameron didn’t think he’d ever met a more unpleasant, arrogant and garrulous creature in his whole life.
By the time Thomas’s fathers had left the estate, Cameron was downright drained. Siphoned of all his energy and patience. He’d barely been able to deposit Thomas into his room, fearing the man might want to strike up yet another long-winded conversation about land and taxes and purebred pedigree.
“Just because Sir Thomas’s fathers were insufferable, it doesn’t mean that he himself is,” Lennon reasoned. “You’re jumping to conclusions when you’ve barely spoken—”
“How can he not be? What’s the saying? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Like father, like son?” Cameron had wildly miscalculated this impulsive gamble. He’d gotten it all very wrong.
Lennon folded his arms. “You are nothing like your father… although you do resemble your mother in some distinct ways.”
Cameron sat upright, his voice pitching even higher. “He has two fathers! He’s bound to resemble one of them—”
“Stop it. You’re being childish. I will not allow you to make snap judgments and discard this entire situation based on your first impression of his fathers.” Lennon sighed and paced the floor with his arms still folded. He looked older in the gray morning light. Older than usual.
Some part of Cameron knew he was being silly. But the reality of the situation had been like a punch to his gut. Everything safe, quiet and peaceful about his home was forever at risk because of the snap decision he’d made. The decision he’d been pressured to make.
“It is obvious to me that Sir Thomas is likely the product of an abusive home,” Lennon went on, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Such a circumstance is unfortunately not unusual in Eden. The man looks miserable, his clothes are unkempt and ill-fitting, and Sulee has complained that he’s not been eating at mealtimes.
Just taking two or three bites before discarding the entire plate. ”
Lennon paused and looked over at Cameron. His tone softened. “To me, your ignoring him this way feels like the perpetuation of his potential abuse.”
“No. No, I…” Cameron shook his head, his heart doing a strange hiccup in his chest. He didn’t mean any harm. He needed decompression time. It was always necessary after a highly engaging social outing. A couple days of rest and seclusion to recover.
Lennon’s observation clarified some things for Cameron, though.
He’d seen Thomas two months earlier at another society party.
Thomas had sat alone in an alcove on a terrace, shrouded in shadows and moonlight.
He’d looked like a man who’d been robbed of his very soul—a drastic change from his carefree and confident demeanor five years ago.
The difference was both profound and disturbing.
Despite this, Cameron had recognized him immediately—the faint ghost of a vivid and bright memory cemented within his mind. Cameron had been too much of a coward to try speaking to him. He hadn’t known what to say or where to begin.
“You have chosen this man as your partner,” Lennon said plainly.
Cameron held up a palm. “Just on paper, though. On paper.”
Lennon rolled his eyes. “Regardless, does he not deserve your respect? Shouldn’t he have his own opportunity to make a first impression without the impediment of his nutty fathers?”
A second impression… Cameron thought privately. Thomas even looked like his elder father, except much younger in age, of course… and gaunter and sadder.
It didn’t feel right to bring that point up just now. Cameron’s defense of his own behavior was falling apart like wet sand.
“I know that new vampires are difficult for you, but you’ve committed yourself to this, so you must try.
Extend to him the same kindness that you show all of us within the estate—and even the merchants and citizens of Upper Avalon.
Don’t show him how much of a reclusive, anxiety-riddled pain in the arse you can be.
At least not immediately. Best foot forward, eh? ”
Cameron wanted to argue with that boorish assessment of his character, but he resisted, lest he provide further evidence of his being a pain in the arse. He sighed heavily. “Alright. I’ll talk to him… tonight.”
“You’re putting this off for as long as possible.”
“No, I need to deposit the checks and look at the mail since I haven’t done so.”
Lennon smirked. “Since you’ve been hiding in your room for two days?”
“Not two days! Technically only one full day. Yesterday. Don’t exaggerate.” Surly, Cameron climbed out of the bed and stretched his arms up. He felt stiff from stress. “What has he been doing?”
“Reading in the library, mostly. Sleeping. He seems polite. Calm and reserved. You might actually like him if you stop being a ridiculous man-child—”
“Alright, Len, that’s enough. You’ve made your point.”
Cameron showered, dressed and headed straight to his office.
He was half panicked at the prospect of running into Thomas in the hallway and how awkward that would be.
How weird it was overall to have a new and strange vampire wandering around his home.
It set Cameron on edge, like he suddenly had a bat infestation and at any moment one might swoop down from the rafters and he’d have to duck and cover his head.
Except bats were cool. He liked bats. Much more so than vampires.
While he worked on the estate’s accounting, Sulee brought him a sandwich to eat at his desk and told him that it was nice to see him out of his room, finally.
Finally? he grumbled internally. It was one day, for Christ’s sake.
The sun had set by the time he finished his tasks, which had included mandatory administrative work, but also reorganizing the contents of his desk, wiping down the ledges of his bookshelves and making sure all of his pencils were sharpened.
He wasn’t trying to find reasons to stay sequestered within his office.
Of course not. He’d been meaning to do these things anyway.
Today just so happened to be the perfect day for it, with its dreary, overcast skies and steady rainfall.
Cameron had deluded himself into feeling like everything was normal until there was a soft knock at his door. Instantly, his anxiety spiked and his spine went rigid. “Yes?”
The door opened and Lennon stepped inside. “Dinner is ready.”
Exhaling, Cameron nodded. “Should I change clothes? Do I need to be more formal?”
Lennon tilted his head, regarding him. “I don’t believe so. You look very nice.”
This gave Cameron the smallest bit of relief. If he had to start wearing formal clothing to dinner in his own home, he might impale himself. Well, it would give him even more reasons to do so.
The corridors were quiet but warmly lit as they both made their way to the small banquet hall. Cameron held his breath as he stepped through the entryway, but no one was there. He was first to arrive.
“I’ll let Sulee know that we’re just about ready,” Lennon said, continuing on to the main kitchen, further down the hall.
Cameron nodded, then went over to the table. He sat, nervously adjusting the flatware and his knee bouncing as he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
After ten minutes, Lennon came back into the room. He glanced at Cameron, realizing he was still alone. “Where is he?” the manservant asked.
Cameron shrugged. He assumed somewhere in his house, which was distressing in and of itself, but he was coping as best he could.
Lennon made a frustrated, groaning noise in his throat and disappeared back through the opened doors. Enjoying the prolonged solitude and silence, Cameron folded his arms and continued waiting.
After another five minutes, Lennon returned alone. His face was impassive. “He says he is not hungry and is essentially refusing to come to dinner. Mira said he hasn’t eaten anything at all today. I swear to God, the two of you are impossible.”
“Sir Thomas is a fully grown adult,” Cameron reasoned. “If he isn’t hungry, we can’t force him to eat.”
“He is obviously upset about something,” Lennon countered. “He’s also refusing to speak to or even glance at Mira, his maidservant, and he looks like pale death. The man needs to eat, Cameron.”
Sensing where this road was heading, Cameron shook his head. “This is not my responsibility—”
“It most certainly is your responsibility! He was not this badly off when he arrived, but you’ve been ignoring him for two days—”
“One day, Len. Just one full day.”
“And now he’s offended and likely insecure in his position here. You need to go and talk to him.”
Blinking, Cameron sat back. “I’m not going to force him to eat dinner with me if he isn’t hungry.”
Lennon sighed. “It isn’t about dinner. Go and make him feel welcome in your home. Apologize for your behavior—be honest with him about your temperament so that he understands. Give him a chance to know you, and you’ll come to know him as well.”
The image of Thomas’s elder father rushed to the forefront of Cameron’s mind. He did not register as a man who held empathy and patience for others. Could Thomas have inherited that same trait?
“And what if he doesn’t understand?” Cameron asked.
“Then you’ll know how to move forward,” Lennon said, “and at least you will have tried.”
Resigned, Cameron pushed himself up from the table. “Where is he?”
“In the antechamber of his bedroom. Announce yourself and he might let you inside.”
“Alright.” Cameron walked past the older man. “I’ll try.” Cameron had indeed orchestrated this arrangement (albeit against his will). Therefore, it was his responsibility to set it right.
“Good. While you do that, I’ll go dig my own grave. The two of you can shove me into it and put me out of my misery once you’re done.”
Shaking his head, Cameron left the small banquet hall.
He took several deep, intentional breaths as he moved down the corridor, then slowly up the curving stairs.
This situation was strange and uncomfortable, but Lennon was right.
Cameron had started them off on the wrong footing and he was paying for that now.
He didn’t regret giving himself time to recover from that initial meeting, but this might be a distinct consequence of his actions.
He’d have to be more careful going forward.
As Cameron stood in front of the door to Thomas’s rooms, his heart thudded hard in his chest and temples. He inhaled, braced himself and knocked softly.
He waited.
No answer.
He tried again, but this time, he did as Lennon instructed. “Lord Blakeley, it’s Lord Ashford. Are you available—”
The door whooshed open and took Cameron’s breath away. Thomas was suddenly there in the gap, pallid, thin and with a hard expression settled in his brow.
“Lord Blakeley is my father,” he said evenly. “Thomas will do.”
Cameron swallowed hard and quickly regathered what little bearings he had available. “Sir Thom—”
“Just Thomas.”
“Thomas. Can we talk? If you don’t mind.”
He didn’t respond, but stepped back and opened the door wider, gesturing for Cameron to come inside.
Cameron stepped past him and made his way over to the velvet armchair adjacent to the matching loveseat.
Thomas closed the door, then took a seat on the couch.
He set his palms against his thighs, waiting.
Come what may, Cameron decided that at least he would have tried to set things right.
He took another deep breath. “I apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he began, briefly meeting the man’s cold gray gaze.
“I… struggle with social anxiety and am fairly introverted. Intense social situations drain me emotionally and physically, and I…”
Cameron reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.
Knowing his own nervous tick, he stopped, dropped his hand and straightened his shoulders.
“I should have tried harder to express this to you, but the dilemma is that the very nature of my problem prevents an immediate explanation. Even so, I am sorry if I’ve made you feel unwelcome. ”
He met Thomas’s eyes again, searching for some reaction, or maybe even acceptance in his flat expression.
There was none. But after a moment, Thomas said plainly, “Thank you for telling me that.”
“You’re welcome,” Cameron said, feeling awkward. The quiet stretched on for a beat too long, so he added. “How are you finding your rooms? Is there anything to your disliking?”
“There is not,” Thomas said, “but I do have questions. Are you refueled enough to address my queries? Or should we wait for another time?”
Cameron sat straighter and nodded. “I’m alright. Please, go ahead.”
“Why have you brought me here?” he asked boldly. “Why did you initiate this arrangement?”
Cameron blinked back his surprise. “You… don’t remember?”
Thomas frowned, his expression somehow growing colder. “Remember what?”
Silence. Something in the air hollowed out and Cameron sat staring at Thomas with his heart in his throat. When he swallowed, it went down rough.
Truly, he was an imbecile. He vaguely wondered if he should just go downstairs and join Lennon in that grave he was allegedly digging.