Page 35 of The Last Kiss

She nodded, turned her serious gaze back to him. “I spoke with Major Edwards. If you’re willing to stay overnight, you could have your new prosthetic fitted at the Queen Mary hospital while you’re there.”

“Indeed?” It was difficult to think about that when his mind was full of his last train journey, to Hinton from the hospital in Southampton with his mother clutching his hand and his body flooded with quicksilver panic every time the whistles blew.

“We have a house in town and you’d be most welcome to use it,” Olive continued, cutting through his thoughts. “No staff, though, but — Ashleigh, would you like me to go with you? I know you haven’t been to town since you were wounded. Some men find it difficult. All the bustle, you know.”

“I — ” He cleared his throat as they drew to a halt just past the gate. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but I’m sure I’ll manage. Thank you, though, for the offer of your company. I’m sure you have more important things to be doing at Chewton.”

Her expression told him he was right. “Well, perhaps I do.” She brightened suddenly. “But suppose your West went with you?”

Your West.

His heart kicked and contracted all at once and he knew a sharp whisper of fear. “West has his duties in the stables. He doesn’t have time to babysit me.”

“I doubt he’d see it that way. He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

Ash couldn’t — wouldn’t — deny that much. “He’s the best friend I ever had.” His voice cracked and he had to stop speaking, blinking rapidly as he turned away.

Olive moved to stand between him and the people leaving church, shielding him from their sight, and he felt a sudden sweep of affection for her. “Take your friend with you, Ashleigh,” she said. “Let him help you, if he can.”

“My father will think I’m — ”

“Oh, the devil take him!” Her voice was hot, her sallow skin flushing with feeling. “I’m tired of people’s opinions on what a person should and shouldn’t do.”

“And I imagine you hear a lot of them. You’re a good and wise friend, Miss Allen.” He took her hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to marry me?”

“Quite sure.” Her laughing expression looked a trifle alarmed as she pulled her hand free. “But shall I telephone Queen Mary’s and tell them to expect you next Wednesday?”

Suddenly his heart started pounding with a strange mix of terror and anticipation. The train journey would be torturous, but with Harry at his side perhaps it would be endurable. And if they were to spend a night in London… He swallowed hard. “Yes. Thank you, Olive.”

“Don’t be silly. And you’re to stay at our town house in Mayfair. I’ll ask mother to arrange it.”

Well, Ash thought as he watched her go, now he had some news to tell Harry. He only hoped Harry’s circumspection would allow him to agree to the plan because, now that the prospect was on offer, the thought of a whole night alone with Harry West sounded like heaven and Ash was determined that nothing would keep it from happening.

CHAPTERTWELVE

Harry had been in a lather since yesterday.

He still couldn’t believe that glorious, mad moment when they’d kissed was real. And then today, in church, when the bloody vicar had started on about pageants and parades and he’d seen poor Ash vibrating with fury…

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to him, but no other bugger seemed to give a toss and he couldn’t just sit there and wait for him to explode. That would have done nobody any good, least of all Ash. But he’d have to let that anger out somehow, that was for sure. It was a poison if you kept it bottled up, rotted you from the inside. Eventually you had to bleed it out.

Boyd nudged his foot. “What’s got you so sullen-looking?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, and went back to his mutton and potatoes. They were eating their midday meal in the kitchen with the rest of the staff, as usual. “Just thinking.”

“About Mr Ashleigh?” Piped up John Pierson, all smiling insolence. “After him feeling queer in church, I mean.”

Ignoring the little sod, Harry spoke to Boyd. “What do you make of this pageant, then? To mark the treaty.”

Boyd didn’t answer right away, but Harry could see him thinking as he chewed a mouthful of food. “The peace ought to be marked. It was hard won.”

“Aye marked, but not celebrated.” He prodded at a lump of undercooked potato. “Can’t say I’ve got much stomach for making out like Arras was Agincourt and parading around the village green waving a flag.”

“Don’t suppose you do, lad.”

“Still, it’s not for us, I suppose. That’s what I told — ” He stopped himself just in time. “That is, people need a way to remember, don’t they? Me, I’d rather do it quietly.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Lord knows, you’ve earned the right.”

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