Page 75 of A Bluestocking for the Wicked Duke
“James would have a solution, or at least a way to stymie this tide of confusion I am feeling,” he said aloud.
William looked at his time piece. It was already past 5.
Too late to go to Eusten.
William made his mind to go to Eusten the first thing the next morning. He needed to get Lord James view on the entire affair; he would have a good advice for William. He always did. William kicked into his horse, making it run faster.
Let the wind clear my head.
The horse ran past farm workers, kicking up dust behind it. William saw a few of the workers, looking up in wonderment to who was riding with such pace. He felt like smiling but he couldn’t bear the extra weight of a smile; his heart was too heavy. He got to the Monbrook bridge, the metal construction that ran across the stream, and didn’t reduce pace. The bridge vibrated under the pounding hoofs of his horse, leaving tremors that discouraged the men behind him from climbing on immediately. William laughed at that.
A fast ride is always therapeutic.
He was in the streets now so he slowed down. Towns were not places for reckless horse riding. He didn’t want to run into anyone or anything. He kept his stallion at a steady trot and got to Wellington a few minutes after getting into town.
He rode past the open gates to his house, taking note of the bright colours that dotted the garden. He rode to the stable, dismounting before the stable boy came out of the stable. He offered him the reins.
“Feed him and wash him, I’ll use him tomorrow,” he told Francis.
Francis nodded and led the house into the stable. William walked back to the house.
I will go straight to my room, have a warm bath and sleep. I don’t have the heart for mother’s probing inquiries today.
He climbed up the staircase and pushed the door open. He was greeted by a familiar voice in conversation with his mother’s.
“James,” he cried out when he saw him.
Lord James stood up and removed the hat on his head. He was wearing knee-height boots in which his black trousers sank. He had a dark coloured shirt with a black, gold-rimmed jacket on it. William walked past his mother and embraced his friend in a short, stiff hug. Removing himself from the embrace he looked at Lord James’ face. His friend had a small smile on it but his eyes shone with concern. He knew something was wrong.
“Good evening, mother,” William said.
“Good evening, son. You are home early today.”
William was not in the mood for his mother’s jibes. He walked to his room, hearing Lord James’ steps coming behind him. William stopped a steward in the hall.
“Get warm water to my bathroom now. I want to have a bath,” William told him.
The steward nodded and walked briskly away. William entered his room and sat on his bed before sinking the rest of his upper body in it, only his legs remained on the floor. Lord James entered immediately after him and stood in front of the bed.
“What is wrong, William?” he asked.
William looked up at Lord James.
“Where have you been these few days?” William asked him.
“A lot happened between now and when we last spoke. We have so much to talk about. You’d be surprised,” Lord James said.
William laughed out loud, causing his friend to raise a brow.
“Did I say something funny?” Lord James asked.
“Everything you said is funny. You know why?” William asked.
“No, tell me.”
“Because I could have said exactly that and it would still make perfect sense,” William replied.
Lord James nodded slowly.
