Page 90 of Duke of Emeralds
Colin stripped off his gloves. “We need to talk, Tom. And we’re not leaving until we do.”
Thomas stood his ground. “How did ye find me?”
Colin shrugged. “The world is not so big, my friend. When you turned east at the crossroads yesterday, I knew you weren’t going home. After supper, I met Isaac at the club, and he mentioned you’d not answered a single letter in a week. Which is, frankly, disturbing.”
Isaac nodded. “I had to commission a boy to deliver them by hand, but the result was the same: no reply. Are you in hiding?”
“I’m not hiding,” Thomas said. “Just… not at liberty to entertain visitors.” He tried to sound wry, but even to his own ear, it landed flat.
Colin grinned. “You’re in retreat, then. Like Wellington after the Spanish mess. Only with fewer casualties and worse coffee.”
Thomas tried to usher them into the sitting room, but the two men ignored him and made straight for the hearth where a weak fire attempted to warm the air. Colin slouched onto the sofa and stretched his legs with abandon; Isaac poured himself into a chair as if weighted down by years of disappointment.
Thomas took the armchair nearest the window and waited.
“You look like hell,” Colin said, after a beat.
“Thank ye. It’s the new fashion. You’re meant to look as if you survived a duel with a bear.”
Isaac steepled his fingers, thoughtful. “I would have guessed a duel with your conscience, but yes, the bear is also plausible.”
Colin leaned forward. “We are here because we are worried about you. It’s not like you to go silent.”
Thomas considered denying it then shrugged. “Maybe I had nothing to say.”
Isaac cocked his head. “You always have something to say. Even if it’s about sheep or the price of barley or the way a man should sharpen a scythe. The lack of opinion is what concerns us.”
Thomas smirked. “It’s not a crime to be quiet.”
“It is,” said Colin, “if you are our friend. Especially if you’re in a mood to go off and do something idiotic.”
Thomas leaned back, arms crossed. “Ye traveled across town in a monsoon to accuse me of idiocy?”
Colin grinned. “We missed you.”
Isaac, less inclined to humor, said, “And we think you are in danger of making a mistake you can’t undo. Or rather, you already have, and now, you’re trying to live with it.”
There was a silence, during which Thomas stared at the flames and tried to pretend he did not know what they meant.
Colin, never patient, broke the tension. “Let’s not dance around it. Is this about the Duchess?”
Thomas let out a low laugh, but it sounded like a cough. “No. It’s about sheep. And the scythe of course. I’ve always been partial to a well-balanced blade.”
Colin made a face. “Don’t be an ass.”
Isaac said, “We know it’s about her. Why not just say so?”
Thomas pressed his thumb to his brow, fighting off the headache that had been building for days. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is,” said Colin, “if it ruins you. Which, by the look of you, it already has.”
Isaac tried a gentler tack. “Did you quarrel?”
Thomas snorted. “We did, but not about anything you’d guess. She wanted to set me free, so I obliged. End of story.”
Colin’s eyes narrowed. “You left her?”
He shrugged, a noncommittal roll of the shoulders. “It seemed best.”
