Page 47 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
When Colin arrived back to his bedroom, he splayed his suit upon the bed and scrubbed his face and his armpits with the water in the water basin. The autumn light now rang into the bedroom full-force, blasting everything with light. It felt almost ominous, almost too friendly, especially as Colin felt a strange panic growing in the base of his belly. He’d done the unthinkable. And now he had to deal with the consequences, whatever they were.
Colin sat in just his underthings at the edge of his bed and contemplated what to do next. He could feel the rest of the house erupting beneath him, awakening and shifting into their day clothes and falling into their routines. He could picture Duncan padding up to the library to meet with Rose, could sense the cook preparing his breakfast. It had been the same for so long—just a long string of meaningless activity.
At least, it all felt oddly meaningless if, one day, Rose wasn’t in his house any longer. If he didn’t find a way to keep her.
But Colin did what he was meant to do. Even he knew how to force himself through his schedule. He dressed in his regular, everyday wear, and he swept his hair back, and then he headed down to the dining room to meet Allan for a breakfast that was, admittedly, a bit later than it ordinarily was. Allan seemed fresh-faced and bright. At first, Colin had the suspicion that Allan knew what Colin had done the evening before. But within a minute or two, it was obvious he didn’t. Allan asked him, “So. Have you made up your mind about what to do with Rose?”
Colin shook his head and admitted, truthfully, that he hadn’t. Truthfully, although he did it so frequently, he’d never been a magnificent liar. Allan peered at him and allowed his fork to drop to his platter of beans and eggs and toast.
“What is it?” Colin asked. He tried to make his voice sound clear and crisp and without pause.
“It’s just you seem… as though something is off,” Allan returned.
“Off?”
“Yes. You seem like you’re hiding something,” Allan said.
“I’m not,” Colin said.
Allan arched his brow. “Have you given much more thought to what we discussed last night?”
“A bit,” Colin returned.
Wonderful, he thought. Now, he was just building another fortress of lies between himself and Allan. By the end of this, he would be even more alone than before. Before this, he wrote Allan whenever he pleased, allowed him brief glimpses into his life. But now that Allan was meddling, he was putting strange notions into Colin’s head.
Perhaps Colin might have accused Allan of doing this, right then at breakfast. But before he could open his lips upon this formidable claim, the butler appeared in the doorway and announced that Laurence, of all people on this earth, had arrived and wished to speak with Colin.
Colin blinked at the butler and tossed his napkin on the tablecloth. His first thought was a panicked one. Perhaps Amelia’s illness had grown worse still, and Laurence had decided to come to inform Colin of this fact in person?
It had been ages since he’d seen either Laurence or Amelia, and when Laurence’s sturdy frame dipped into the hallway, his face more chiseled and strange and old than Colin remembered, Colin felt once more the heaviness of time on his shoulders.
“Good morning, Colin,” Laurence said. He stuck his hand out and Colin shook it. “I trust you’re well.”
“I am, thanks,” Colin said. He studied Laurence’s eyes. He felt not a single wave of kindness or of excitement at seeing this horrendous man, the one who’d taken his sister away. “Shall we meet in my study?”
“That will do nicely,” Laurence said. He looked strangely skittish, his eyes darting about. “And your mother? I imagined I would catch her here.”
“My mother has taken a house closer to the center of London. I thought I told you. She decided it was too difficult to remain in this estate, as it was filled with memories of my father,” Colin said. “As you know, she’s been quite ill. I see her from time to time. The doctors are optimistic that she will get well again, but it’s a difficult thing.”
“Yes, well. It’s been rather difficult, attempting to think of anything outside the confines of Amelia and I’s world of sickness.”
“Of course,” Colin said. He turned back toward Allan, who seemed to be studying his eggs with increased interest. “Allan, do you mind if I step out for a moment?”
“Hello, Allan,” Laurence said. He said it with an air of familiarity, although Colin wouldn’t have thought he would remember Allan.
“Laurence,” Allan returned. His voice was icy, something Colin was oddly grateful for. Allan had been around too long not to know the rules of this strange family and live evermore on Colin’s side of things.
Colin led Laurence to his study and gestured for him to sit. He did and then tapped his hat on his lap and ruffled his fingers through his hair. Colin wondered for the first time if the increased age across Laurence’s face was a result of Amelia’s illness.
“Goodness, Colin,” Laurence said. His voice was heavy. “It’s been a terrible time.” He hesitated, yet still didn’t meet Colin in the eye.
“I can’t imagine,” Colin returned.
“Every night, I’ve gone to sleep wondering if Amelia will make it through the night,” Laurence continued. His voice was gruff and low. “This beautiful, perfect creature. Suddenly, it felt as though God was going to rip her away from me in the middle of the night. I simply can’t imagine life without her.
“Yet the doctor gave us good news yesterday,” Laurence continued. “It was just after I sent along Duncan’s little suit. He told me that Amelia seems to be coming out of it. Her vital signs are stronger. Her color is coming back. I spent a bit of time with her this morning, and it’s true that she looks at me with more interest and personality than I’ve seen in some time. It’s like she’s becoming herself again.”
“That’s remarkable,” Colin said. He felt the relief like a wave. “I just. I couldn’t have imagined it going another way.”
