Impractical Page 4
Thiering took one of the rings, holding it gingerly with a slight frown to his pretty mouth. "I—if I might inquire—were they happy, your parents?"
"The happiest people I've ever known," Kirian replied immediately, sadness washing over him. "No matter what happened, they always had each other and that was all they ever needed."
Bitterness twisted Thiering's pretty mouth, startling Kirian with the depths of the emotion. "Your mother was a Duke's daughter, yes? Her family must have been furious."
"Yes," Kirian said slowly, wondering why Thiering was dredging the matter up. "My father told me once that her father offered him a considerable sum of money to walk away. Enough money, my father said, that he would have been set for life. He—" Kirian stopped, taken wholly aback by the naked pain that flashed through Thiering's eyes. He was reminded again of Terrell mentioning scandal in Thiering's past and now wanted more than ever to know what that scandal was.
Realizing that he hadn't finished his sentence, Kirian concluded, "He said no, and that night they opted to elope rather than wait for their families to find a way to tear them apart. They never regretted it."
Thiering said nothing, merely tossed back his brandy. Setting the glass aside, he plucked one of the rings from Kirian's palm and slid it onto his ring finger. "I am sorry I could not get us out of this."
"We'll make the best of it. I'll be damned if I let them dictate my life any further than this. We'll make the best of it, better than anyone could expect, and they'll shut their bloody traps and leave us in peace." He would make Thiering smile at him, because of him, and never spare another thought for whoever had put that pain in his eyes—or for bloody Frederick Cloud.
Kirian slid his mother's ring on his own finger, throat suddenly tight. Ignoring it, he tossed back his own brandy and avoided thinking about why convincing Thiering to think only of him suddenly mattered so much.
Three
It would be pouring rain on the night of Terrell's arrival, and it would begin to rain when he had precisely nowhere to seek cover, and it would make him late and leave him a soppy, wretched, irritable mess as he rang the bell for someone to finally let him in where it would be warm and dry.
He was shivering badly when it finally swung open, and he started to greet Bart, the butler—
But it was not Bart's old, familiar face which greeted him at the door. Terrell really hoped the striking, elegant, and bloody perfect-looking stranger staring at him was not his intended. That would be insult on top of injury and had he not suffered enough for one miserable day?
"Terrell?" the man asked, his voice holding the crisp, sharp tones of the city-bred. "Come inside. I'm astonished—why did you not send word? I would have sent the carriage out—why did you not stop—" He broke his fragmented sentences off and turned away briefly to call out sharply, "Bart!"
When the old butler appeared, gawking in dismay at Terrell's state, the stranger immediately began rattling off orders. "Have a bath drawn at once. Bring down a dressing robe, have Cook make up a hot toddy, and send someone to tend to the horse."
Terrell tried to sputter and protest, and insist he could take care of himself just fine because really—he would just like to be mortified and humiliated in private. He had no choice, however, as an arm was draped across his shoulders and he was guided into the smallest of three sitting rooms. A fire blazed there and he shuddered all the more as the sudden wash of heat began to beat away the awful wet cold.
"Come, come," said that deep, elegant city voice as the arm slid away from his shoulders. "You must not stay in those wet things." He began to divest Terrell of his clothing.
Terrell's face burned, but before he could get a word in edgewise or get away from the damned man's hands and his audacity, he found himself down to only his breeches and stockings. He backed away before the man could tend to those as well. "I do beg your pardon—"
The door opened, giving him no chance to finish the statement. Bart bustled in with robe and toddy, and as determined to see to Terrell's welfare as the stranger—and equally willing to ignore whatever Terrell said throughout the process. Before he could formulate a sentence, Terrell found himself settled into the small sofa by the fire and dressed in his favorite night robe with a hot toddy pushed into his hands. He scowled and wished suddenly for Kirian's temper just then. Such pointless displays were beyond him, however, and just as well, really. They were a waste of time and energy; much more could be accomplished with a calm and rational mindset. So he simply sat and drank the toddy, wishing he had simply drowned in the rain rather than make such an awful first impression. After the first swallow of the toddy, however, he recalled he'd not had anything to eat in hours and so alcohol was probably not a very good idea.
Finally, he forced himself to look up at the man sitting beside him.
"All to rights, then?" the man asked, reaching out to comb back the still-dripping strands of Terrell's hair.
Terrell jerked, startled by the feel of a hand in his hair. "Dare I presume, sir, you are my intended?"
"You may dare it," the man replied with a grin. "Edlin Courtright at your service, my dear."
It figured. What a wonderful impression he was making—drowned rat always went over so well. "I apologize for the unseemly manner of my arrival, sir, and thank you for your assistance. I fear the weather was quite against me."
Edlin smiled and waved the words away with an elegant flick. "I am happy you are arrived and hopefully none the worse for wear."
Terrell nodded and murmured some reply, but he could scarcely concentrate. Honestly, why had his father chosen someone so good-looking? Like Kirian, Edlin was beautiful to a fault—but all dark to Kirian's light. True black hair, just slightly too long by fashionable standards, and eyes of the deepest blue Terrell had ever seen, made all the finer by the dark grays and blues in which he was impeccably dressed. A sapphire glittered among the folds of lace at his throat and Terrell saw now a matching sapphire stud in Edlin's right ear. How peculiar; he'd never known any gentleman to pierce his ear so. Why would he do it?
For some reason, Terrell's chest felt unaccountably tight, some strange fluttering in it. If the damnable storm had made him sick on top of everything else, he was going to be extremely cross for a very long time.
"I am glad you made it," Edlin repeated. "When you did not arrive when expected and no note came to explain, I began to worry. I was going to go looking for you, once the rain let up enough that it was possible to see."
Unable to muster a verbal reply just then, Terrell nodded and took another small sip of his toddy, fighting the urge to yawn. He was suddenly extremely tired. That was to be expected, of course, but this was not at all how he had planned this first meeting with Edlin to go.
"Hungry?" Edlin asked quietly. "I had Cook prepare a meal that would keep, on the chance you were delayed for any reason. She can have it ready in minutes, if you've an appetite."
"Of course," Terrell managed. "I have been looking forward to being home and Cook's wonderful meals."
"I shall be back in a moment, then," Edlin said, brushing Terrell's arm briefly before standing and striding from the room.
Finally alone, Terrell yawned and set aside the empty glass, wondering when precisely he had finished the toddy. Slumping down more comfortably on the sofa, he simply basked in the warmth of the fire and in being mercifully alone, allowing him the chance to regain himself. He yawned again, eyes slipping closed. He supposed there was no harm in resting them a bit until dinner was ready…
*~*~*
The feel of sunshine on Terrell's face woke him. He sat up, blinking groggily as he struggled through the fog of sleep to remember where he was, because it was certainly not school or an inn or…
Oh. He was home—at Fivecoats. He groaned as it all came back to him and fell back upon his pillows, covering his face with his hands He fervently hoped that it had been one of the footmen to help him upstairs and that he had been helped only, not requiring carrying.
In a porcelain dish on the dresser were his amethyst pin and cuff links. Reflexively, he dropped his gaze to take in the ring still on his finger, and then he realized that all of this was simply him stalling, which was ridiculous and impractical and would not improve anything. Calmly opening the door, he stepped out into the hallway and made his way down the hall to the stairs. It was only as he heard Edlin's voice, muffled but definitely Edlin, that he suddenly recalled Edlin—in astonishing detail and so suddenly that he drew up short a quarter of the way down the stairs.
Well, really. His behavior since waking was bothersome and illogical, not at all like him. No doubt he was still just discontented over his own arrival and how perfect Edlin had appeared by comparison. They should have met on more equal footing …
His thoughts broke off as he reached the landing halfway down the stairs and Edlin came into view from the back halls, moving into the main entryway. He was speaking enthusiastically to Charles, the man in charge of the vineyards, arm motioning as he emphasized some point.
Terrell realized he had stopped moving again.
Really, this absurd behavior would have to go. Fine, so he had botched his first impression; the most practical thing to do would be to put all of his very best forward this second time around and hope last night was rapidly forgotten by all. But just before he could decide what to say, Charles looked up and spied him, then beamed.
"Master Terri! It is good to see you again. We are relieved that storm did not do you any harm, as we had begun to fear."
Terrell nodded and returned the greeting, but before he could say more, Edlin had turned and come up the stairs to join him on the landing. "Good morning," Edlin murmured. Gods above but he had not misremembered just how dark those eyes were. Like sapphires just barely touched by candlelight in an otherwise dark room.
"Uh—good morning," Terrell returned. "I apologize for last night and for rising so late this morning."
Edlin laughed softly and easily, his expression oddly…warm? as he regarded Terrell. "You need not apologize, my dear. There is nothing for which you should feel you must. I am glad you are here and well. I hope the morning does find you well?"
"Yes," Terrell replied. "How does it find you?"
"Quite well," Edlin said, and the low tone of voice, that odd, warm look, seemed to imply Terrell was the reason for this, even though that made absolutely no sense. Terrell withdrew his hand and only then realized that Edlin had at some point taken it, and how had he missed that? Honestly, what was the matter with him? "I've not had breakfast, yet," Edlin continued. "We got caught up working. Would you care to join me?"
"Of course," Terrell said, feeling he regained a small bit of his footing in this simple exchange. Until he realized that he felt steadier still as Edlin stepped away and Terrell found he could breathe again. Since when did he have trouble breathing? Clearly it was going to be a very long day. Well, there was nothing for it but to continue on. How many times today had he already reminded himself of that?
The gentle press of a hand to the small of his back broke Terrell's thoughts and spurred him into movement; he led the way down the stairs, Edlin close behind him. It was only as they reached the bottom that something occurred to him. "Where is my father?"
Edlin motioned apologetically. "I'm afraid he was summoned back to his own estate the day before yesterday. Some problem with a few of the tenants."
"I see." Terrell sternly reminded himself that it was silly to be disappointed. Father had his own duties and responsibilities, and he had already done more than he should have for Fivecoats.
Besides, if Father had gone off and left Fivecoats wholly in Edlin's care, that spoke better of Edlin than anything else possibly could. Terrell dared a sideways glance at Edlin, who was once more locked in conversation with Charles, although the hand at Terrell's back had not fallen away. This close and more awake, he could see the dark eyes were framed by long lashes. He also realized that Edlin was a few years older, and that surprised him. But it shouldn't, really; looking back, he had made his own assumptions without any real factual basis. How much older? he wondered, before dismissing the question as irrelevant.
In the breakfast room, Terrell was guided to his chair, and before he could get so much as a word in, he had breakfast and tea before him, all done precisely the way he preferred. "Thank you," he murmured, as Edlin took his own seat.
Edlin smiled and Terrell could not help but note that he looked utterly perfect and at home—the refined, elegant, confident lord of the manor. That was good—wonderful in fact. So why did he feel so morose of a sudden? Ignoring the emotion as unreasonable, and therefore impractical, Terrell went to work on his soft-boiled egg and buttered toast.
"You are looking overwhelmed," Edlin remarked into the growing silence. "I suppose that is my fault and I do apologize."
"What?" Terrell looked up with a frown. "Not at all. If I am making a poor showing, then the fault is my own. I am fine, I assure you."
Edlin leaned back in his chair and his mouth curved in a faint smile as he replied, "Liar. I have been told before, and quite often, that I have a bad habit of walking into a room and promptly taking over. It is a trait all the men in my family share, I'm afraid. Get all four of us in a crowded room and I promise you, that room will quickly empty." The smile widened into a grin and Terrell returned it with a smile of his own before he could catch himself. "Anyway," Edlin continued. "I am certain my roughshod ways do not make a terribly good impression and so I am sorry for that."
"You have not made a terrible impression at all, sir," Terrell replied, dredging up a reassuring smile. "I promise. Shall we leave off all this apologizing? It seems a waste of energy, in light of our constant reassurances."
Laughing, Edlin nodded. "Indeed, we shall. Charles here was just coming to say that a wine-tasting is readied, should we care to visit the vineyards. It's been some time since you have been able to visit Fivecoats; everyone has been looking forward to seeing you. There are several new wines in development and the vintners are eager for your approval should you care to give it."
"I would love to," Terrell agreed with another smile.
Edlin beamed. "Splendid."
"I shall go ensure all is in readiness," Charles said, before rising and bowing politely, then bustling from the room—leaving Terrell alone with his fiancé and nervous for no discernible reason.
He took a swallow of tea to stall for time, wishing he knew why all of his usual conversational abilities had suddenly fled him. Was he destined to spend this entire visit making a fool of himself? That was just what he needed—for his fiancé to think him a perfect idiot.
"So how are your studies?" Edlin inquired. "You are quite close to being finished, aren't you? Your father loves to tell everyone how well you excel, and the honors you are taking, and the half-dozen papers you already have published in highly respected journals."
Terrell laughed. "It's only five, not six, and they are modest journals, I assure you. As a student, I am hardly qualified to appear in the better ones. I will finish the end of this year, yes." Something to which he was greatly looking forward; he loved academia and planned on being an expert in his field, but the strict confines of a student's life was hardly ideal for everything else he wanted to do with life.
Like settle in at Fivecoats, finally. It was strange, suddenly, to
think about that—the pictures in his mind had changed. He had long imagined what it would be like to finally live here, but even knowing full well that he would have to marry if he wanted Fivecoats to continue thriving, he had pictured himself alone. When he returned in winter, graduated and ready to move forward, Edlin would be waiting for him, would be occupying the room beside him, would—
Terrell choked on his tea, as sudden images flooded his mind; images he had not wanted, had not expected—and now could not forget. Gods in heaven, he had managed to completely disregard certain aspects of being married…and such thoughts were completely impractical, and he was not going to think them anymore.
"Are you all right?" Edlin asked, frowning in concern.
Terrell nodded, cursing his hot cheeks. "I am fine, forgive me. Apparently I am determined to make a perfect fool of myself."
"Well, if that is your plan, I am sorry to say that you are rather failing at it." Edlin gave a smile that did funny things to Terrell's ability to breathe. Rather than signal a footman, he poured Terrell more tea himself, even adding the two sugars that was all Terrell liked. It was clear that Edlin never missed a detail, which meant he was being extremely kind in vowing that Terrell was not behaving like a right idiot. His father really had made an excellent choice—in all respects, his traitorous mind tried to supply, but Terrell firmly shut those thoughts away.
"However did you and my father meet?" he asked, desperate for distraction.
Edlin smiled. "Oh, our fathers have worked together countless times; my father purchases a great deal of Fivecoats wine to sell overseas. We've always made a tidy profit from your wines; they really are a cut above the rest. But my father was waylaid right before an appointment and my brothers were busy, so he sent me along. We talked for hours, your father and I—we simply got along, right from the start, and went to dinner, and by the end he had arranged for me to visit Fivecoats. The marriage was offered to me a few weeks months, contingent of course upon your approval." He smiled more warmly. "Your home is beautiful; I am madly in love with it already and I am prepared to work very hard to convince you we could be a good match."