A Promise of Tomorrow (21 page)

He desperately wanted to tell James how much their time together had meant to him, and he felt like he was betraying their friendship by not going back and thanking him in person, but there was no wayhe could now.

The best he could hope for was that James would be able to hear all that he
couldn’t
say in the letter he had to write and forgive himfor the shabbymanner oftheir parting.

He stood and walked to the basin and ewer atop the lowboy in his roomand wet a flannel to wash away the road dust and sweat as best he could without a change of clothes. When he was finished, he sat down at the small escritoire with a heavy heart and began his letters.

J
AMES
sat in the light of the single lamp on the desk in his study, a brandy in one hand and the letter in the other. He knew he should put it down and go to bed, but he just couldn’t seemto stop himselffrom reading and rereading every line, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand the meaning behind the words. He just couldn’t make himself believe that Kyle was gone for good and that the letter in his hands would be the only goodbye, the only explanation, he would receive.

“My aunt has judged it best that I begin my new position as soon as may be. I therefore regret that I will be unable to return to Kentwood to thank you properly for all your kindnesses. It grieves me more than I can say that I will not know the pleasure of your company, and indeed that of your family, again for some time, though it is some comfort to know that I need not impose on your generosity any further.

I beg you to accept my sincerest apologies for being unable to deliver my thanks in person, but given the nature of my difficulties, I felt sure you would understand the need for discretion and a swift resolution to my current predicament. It would wound me deeply should any association with me cause you or your family injury….”

The letter went on in a similar vein for a few more lines with promises to repay any and all debts he’d incurred, as well as instructions to send his trunk with the servant who had brought the letters, and ended with:
Your friend always, Mr. Kyle Allen.

There was nothingelse, no mentionofwhenhe might be able to have the “pleasure” of their company again, no mention of where he would be goingor what his new positionwould be or anything.

James stared at the letter until his eyes began to burn and the lines beganto blur. He needed to sleep, to collect himself, and neither ofthose things would happen ifhe continued as he was. He’d been in a state of emotional upheaval for almost two days without rest, and if he did not get some sleep soon, he wouldn’t be capable of even the semblance ofcomposure.

The letters had arrived that afternoon, one for each of them, in the hands of a man on horseback with Gwinny in tow. He wasn’t in any formal livery, and James’s heart had lurched at the sight of Gwinny without her rider. Thankfully, the servant had been quick to introduce himself and deliver his messages. When asked, he had assured them that Kyle was well, and Ellis, with his usual efficiency, had had the presence of mind to send the man to the kitchens for some refreshment.

They had all gone back into the Hall to read their letters, and, to maintain appearances, he had had to pretend the letter had little more effect on him than mild disappointment. His niece and nephew had had similar letters to his, it seemed, and had exclaimed at length in disappointment before they had all separated to write their replies to send back withthe servant.

His reply had been short, a few lines expressing his disappointment, a few more wishing him well, and assurances he would always be welcome at Kentwood. He hadn’t known what else to say.

He had retreated back to his study after the servant had gone, using estate business as his excuse again and leaving it only to join the twins for dinner. It had been a subdued meal. It seemed they were all feeling the loss of their new friend, and he had been unable to dredge up enoughofhis usualmirthto lift the mood. Ifthe twins noticed, they said nothing about it, and he had left them soon after the meal to retreat againto his study.

Ellis had come to check on him at some point, and the twins had come to bid him good night, but he hadn’t been able to manage more thana few grumbled words inresponse.

His only excuse for himself was that it had been so very long since he’d allowed himself to think beyond the comfortable confines of his quiet, predictable life, so long since he’d allowed anyone other thanfamilyto touchhis heart.

In all his years, he’d fallen in love only the once, and any wild fantasies he had ever entertained about Jonathan had been buried under a tide of grief and duty all too soon. He’d spent years trying to live up to his father’s name, the title and all the duties and responsibilities that had fallen to him too young. He’d even managed to convince himselfthat he’d beentoo busyto think ofanythingelse.

When he’d met the earl, that first season in London after Jonathan’s letter, he’d been happy to learn that he could find some small measure of contentment without damaging all that he held dear, and he’d settled quite comfortablyinto a safe routine.

Safe and unfulfilling, but it had beenbetter thannothingat all.
Until now.
Having Kyle, someone he cared for deeply, someone he

enjoyed simply spending time with, at his home had made himsee all that he had given up by taking the safe path. It had been easy to ignore all such thoughts and yearnings in the past because they had always beenabstract. Now he had seen for himselfwhat life could be like with someone you cared for beside you, had seen how wellKyle fit into his home, his
life
, and that smalltaste left himachingfor more.

But perhaps it is for the best. I wouldn’t have taken the risk for anyone else, and with that temptation so conveniently removed, I won’t do something I might come to regret.

Sighing again, he took the lamp and his brandy and headed for his bedchamber. The linens would be fresh, and any trace of Kyle would be gone. If only his memories were so easily cleared away. He’d have to throw away the cravats and that damn vial of oil. It would be a long time before he would need it again, and he could purchase suchthings onhis next trip to Londonifhe felt the need.

Having searched out the offending items from the places he’d stashed themthe day before, he disposed of themand set to drinking himselfto sleep.

Tomorrow
, he vowed.
Tomorrow I will make my peace with this and put it behind me. I only met the man a week ago. It can’t take me much more than that to rid myself of this selfindulgent and pointless obsession. I’m Lord James Warren, Viscount Sudbury, not some untried girl to swoon and give in to vapors. I’m better than this!

T
HE
sky was gray outside the tiny window near his desk, and though it suited Kyle’s mood perfectly, he couldn’t help but wish for a bit of sunshine to lift it.

He had been at Baxter and Clarke, solicitors in Bury St. Edmunds, for all of three weeks now, working as their newest clerk, and he hated every moment of it. He knew he was being selfish, spoiled, and ungrateful, but he couldn’t help his feelings.

His aunt had secured him the position disappointingly quickly. He’d been brought before the two partners for a brief interview and instructed to return the following day to begin work. His aunt had finalized all the details of his employment contract, paid his first month’s rent at a boarding house, and left him there with instructions to appear at her door on Sunday morning, and every Sunday following, to accompany her to church. Beyond that, he was left to his owndevices.

He knew no one but his aunt, and she seemed little inclined to waste any time introducing him to her friends and acquaintances. After some thought, he decided her generosity must only extend so far, and she would perhaps not risk embarrassment on his behalf until he’d provenhimselfworthyofintroductioninto her society.

He tried to make friends with the other two clerks in the office but received only coldness and suspicion in response to his overtures. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn their enmity, and they seemed disinclined to share, so he left them to themselves and worked quietly at his little desk, trying to make as little a stir as possible.

The only one who paid himany attention at allwas Mr. Baxter, his new employer, and the attentions he received fromthat front made himnervous and uncomfortable. The man seemed to feel the need to hover over him, standing so close he was always brushing Kyle’s arm or shoulders with his own, so close his foul breath and stale sweat would nearlysuffocate Kyle some days.

He couldn’t tell for certain, but something in him said the man enjoyed his discomfort, that he actually stood that close on purpose, though Kyle was afraid to find out why. He hated it, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t risk offending his new employer, and he couldn’t leave a job after only three weeks and expect his aunt to secure himanother position. He was trapped.

Bythe end ofthe first week, he was desperately lonely and had fallen into a sort of gray melancholy. He slept fitfully, tortured with dreams of strong, warm arms and tender yet demanding lips. Sometimes the nightmares of Victor would come and he would wake shaking and sick with no one to comfort him. Afraid, ashamed, and miserable, he would prop a chair against his locked door, huddle under his covers, and cryhimselfback to sleep.

His onlycomfort came fromreadingand rereadingthe letters he had received from James and the twins, though James’s letter had been courteous and kind but nothing more. He knew, of course, that there
couldn’t
have been more, but he couldn’t help looking for it betweenthe lines.

He’d promised himself he would be strong. He would accept the pain because it was a punishment he had earned with his own stupidity and because he truly had no choice. But the truth was, he didn’t feel strong. He felt weak and lonely and afraid, and he desperately wanted his dream, his fairy tale, back again. The memories weren’t enough, no matter how many times he told himself they’d have to be, and he wondered desperately how long it would take untilthe painbecame bearable.

T
HE
past three weeks had been hard for James. That first week after receiving Kyle’s letter, he had alternated between melancholy, bitter anger, and determined cheer on an almost hourly basis, and despite his valiant efforts to hide it, the twins noticed. Ellis noticed. Even his horse noticed. They’d probably be consigning him to Bedlam by Christmas ifhe kept up like this.

The Hall, once his sanctuary and place of peace and contentment, had turned into a source of unhappiness. In a few short days, that damned beautiful man had managed to leave his mark in every corner of his home. Every room James spent any time at all in held memories of Kyle, and James felt his absence all the more keenlybecause ofit.

The second week, he finally decided that he couldn’t be angry with Kyle. The young man had done what was best for both of them, and just because James had wanted more of him didn’t mean Kyle had wanted the same. He was angry mostly at himself, angry that he couldn’t controlhis own passions, angry that he’d let himself come to this state, angry that he’d been so reckless in the first place, but most ofall, angrythat he couldn’t help wantingthe impossible anyway. This time, for some unknowable reason, he couldn’t simply let his wants disappear beneaththe yoke ofdutyand honor. He couldn’t let it go.

Elias’s words rang through his head more than a few times during that time. Kyle had made himhappy, and now Kyle was gone and he didn’t know ifhe’d ever see himagain.

The anger and want would ebb during the daylight hours. The twins would remind him that there was joy outside of Kyle. That he had a family to protect and to love, who loved himin return. Instead of avoiding them like he had when Kyle was there, he took to spending every waking moment in their company. It worked, mostly, at least untiltheywent to bed, leavinghimalone withhis thoughts.

By the end of the third week, not long before the twins would be leaving him to rejoin their parents, James was almost feeling like himself again. The pain and anger had faded to a dull throb, and he had hope that, given time, he would regain the sense of quiet contentment he’d had before.

He was a little concerned that the twins’ departure would leave him too much time to think and the wounds would reopen, and he evenconsidered returningto Londonwiththemto see ifElias was still in town, but the thought left him cold. He didn’t think he could do it even ifhe wanted to, at least not now. There or here, he knew where his thoughts would lie for some time to come, so he might as wellface it and get it over with.