Page 38 of A Lady's Wicked Revenge
Grunting with frustration, he cast about, struggling to find the right words—something that had rarely if ever happened to befall him for his entire life until meeting Diana Hann. Now it seemed a daily occurrence for him to entirely lose control over his tongue, whether in a maddening argument like this or finding himself transfixed by the beauty of her lovely face in the gold of the early morning sunlight. His eyes roved to the rainclouds beginning to gather on the distant horizon, presaging more dramatic weather in their near future.
At last, he fell upon something that sounded reasonable. “Life …” Colin began, lifting a hand in an indistinct gesture. “Diana, life is not some storybook romance, you know. It’s a hard, practical thing, and it must be dealt with practically.”
Diana leaned back as if struck, a hateful look roiling in her pure blue eyes. “Those are James Leeson’s words, Colin,” she said in a voice dripping with ice.
“I don’t … Diana, I’m not—” Colin protested. Then he found a crumb of indignation somewhere in himself and drew himself straight, an imperious sneer finding purchase on his lip. “And what if they are? The man has more than his share of wisdom, as I’ve said. You could learn something if you ever bothered to put aside your own self-righteousness long enough to—”
But now Diana had lurched to her feet and was looking down at Colin disdainfully. The shadow of the Hanging Tree had painted a menacing shadow over her fair features. “I did not come out here with you to hear my guardian’s abuses repeated to me for the thousandth time. If that is all you care to do, you can bloody well do it without me here.”
Here Colin found his mind ready with an appropriately cutting rejoinder, one that would put Diana in her place without a doubt … but his heart stilled his tongue before it could lash out this invective, perhaps sensing that he did not want Diana in any place but where she had just been sitting. Another retort came to him, then another, each crueller than the last, but nothing exited Colin’s lips but an ineffectual choking sound.
Before he could unleash anything suitably witty but not too vicious for his own good, Diana had disappeared out of sight, leaving the grass beneath the Hanging Tree once again grey and cold and very, very empty.
* * *
Colin’s love and admiration for his stepfather were very real, but they did not generally extend to Sir James Leeson’s famous study. The room was too small for Colin’s taste, especially for all the papers and books that filled every surface in the chamber. It was too warm and smoky in the winter as well, and in the summer, there were times Colin felt he was sure to suffocate in the choking heat on his frequent visits with the gentleman.
However, for all its faults, the study had two charms that precisely suited Colin’s current mood: it was unoccupied by Diana, and it was stocked with a dozen bottles of his stepfather’s wine.
Trying to force himself to chuckle at the gesture, Colin raised his second glass in the air in a toast, though it was already half-empty. “To true love, whether or not it does ever coincide with matrimony,” he said in a grandiose voice, then drained the remaining red liquor.
Whatever ‘true love’ means,he thought with a sniff. He ran a finger over the rim of the empty glass, idly filling the room with a persistent squeaking noise.If it’s something that even exists outside the pages of ridiculous novels.
Colin laughed again at the thought, the sound bitter and cold even within his chest.So much time and effort spent on seeking something that doesn’t even exist. What is this thing the poets call ‘love’, anyway? Simple desire, lust, pleasurable companionship with a compatible personality?He snorted.If that’s all, then whatever I’ve been doing with Diana might be called something similar. Imagine spending one’s whole life chasing a feeling as commonplace and unimportant as …
If there was any warning of Sir James’ sudden appearance in the doorway, Colin missed it over the sound of his own thoughts. So when he heard the first harsh baritone syllable shoot into the study like cannon fire, he was so surprised that he sat bolt upright so hard he hurt his neck, nearly spilling his glass in his haste to set it on the table and correct his lugubrious posture
“There you are, Colin. Blazes, I was looking for you all bloody morning!”
As ever, Sir James entered the room like a storm cloud, full of bluster and wrath directed in every direction at once. Muttering to himself, the great man pushed his way to his desk, rifling through papers for a moment without apparently looking for anything in particular. Colin noted the man’s eye land on the half-finished glass of wine on the table, on the slightly askew curtains, on the cleanliness of his boots resting anxiously on the floor, before finally alighting on the bottle of wine.
“May I pour you a glass, sir?” Colin asked brightly.
Sir James’ face was lined and red with scorn. “Awfully generous of you, offering me a glass of my own wine,” he growled. Colin shrank, feeling his veins run cold with fear, but he smoothly filled the empty glass that his stepfather held out in his direction.
“I … I’m sorry, Sir James. I didn’t mean to—”
“Never mind that, now,” barked the gentleman, quaffing half of his glass and making a face of mild disgust. “You know you’re welcome in this study anytime, Colin, and that includes all the comforts therein. For God’s sake, don’t make me say it another hundred times.”
“No, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Good lad.” By the tone of his voice, Colin could tell that James had already moved on mentally from this topic. Now he occupied himself with scowling in the direction of his account books, one finger running through the bushy hairs of his moustache. From the dark circles under the man’s eyes, it was evident that something had been troubling him.
“What … er, why were you looking for me, sir?”
Sir James glared at him, a patina of surprise under his perpetually furrowed eyebrows.
“This morning, that is. What was it you wanted me for?”
“Oh, Devil knows,” Sir James grumbled, refilling his glass, then pouring the rest of the bottle into Colin’s. “I tell you, Colin, I don’t know what’s become of you of late. Here I am, hard at work at affairs of business from sunrise, and you’re nowhere to be found. Have I not made it sufficiently clear that I see it as my duty to instruct you in the matters a gentleman must know?”
“Yes, sir, you have. Thank you, s—”
“I could do with much less of your bloody thanks and more of your attention if you’ve any to hand.” Sir James leaned forward in his low chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked Colin over from head to toes. Colin struggled not to shudder at the intensity of his stepfather’s gaze. “I’ve always known you as a diligent young man. A bit too given to enjoying life’s idle pleasures, perhaps, but never a slugabed.”
“Thank you, sir.” Colin winced as soon as he said the words, fearing further chastisement from Sir James. But his previous caution was already forgotten, evidently.
“So just what is it you’ve been doing with yourself each morning? Mister Davenport tells me you’ve been entertaining yourself with frequent walks in the garden—for what reason I cannot begin to guess. What’s been keeping you so damnably occupied these days, Colin?”
