“Do what you were doing in the library this morning.”
“What?”
“Talkto him.” Matthew clenched his jaw and spoke slowly and evenly. “About plants, or home, give him etiquette lessons,anythingto get his mind off being here. If he loses control, we won’t win this contest. Please work with me.”
“I can’t make him sleep,” Cassandra whispered. Thinking back to Mr. Reeves’ bloodshot eyes, how worn down he was, his discomfort in the crowds, and the gossip concerning him.
Locked away.
Cassandra had lied to Matthew right now, too. She had gotten Mr. Reeves to fall asleep. Though with his level of exhaustion, she could hardly take credit. Still, he dropped his guard with her. But she couldn’t watch over him as he slept, read to him, or talk to him alone and the thought caused a heavy feeling in her chest that felt like sadness, but that wasn’t quite it.
It was powerlessness.
“I know that, sis. But what you can do is help me distract him. We’re the only family that he has. He needs us.”
Matthew may have been asking her nicely, but there wasn’t an option for her to refuse. And part of her wanted to comfort Mr. Reeves,to brush the hair back from his face, and make him laugh in the same way that he had that morning. It tortured her to see him wasting away, as if the air in the manor was slowly poisoning him, and she saw the truth in Matthew’s words. They couldn’t win, not at this rate. She couldn’t forget that she was as much a part of the team as Mr. Reeves was, and she understood her role.
Support.
Resigned, Cassandra sighed.
“What do you want me to do?”
Matthew’s face lit up, and a relieved sigh of his own escaped his lips.
“You’re not going to like it, but here’s what I’m thinking….”
Chapter Thirteen
Tied behind his saddle, Seth’s rucksack bounced against his back as he trudged Sabre to the meeting place for the hunt. Fallen leaves crunched under the horse’s powerful hooves, breaking apart the deep silence of the morning. The refreshing scent of damp earth and fog cooled his lungs. His skin was clammy and his joints ached from sleeping outside, but hehadslept, and he felt better. Rested. It took most of the night for his mind to settle; he hadn’t realized how much he needed the solitude and an open sky.
His gloved hands played with the leather of the reins as he corrected Sabre. The horse tugged at the bit impatiently. He snorted and nipped at him when Seth retrieved him from the stables. Now, on hisfourthday without a proper run, Sabre was becoming a right tyrant. Seth tightened his hold and clicked at him.
Not now.
Cooper would take point on this morning’s hunt, as both agreed that at least temporarily, they should take precautions. He would see more of Sir Reginald, and if it was to have the same effect, Seth shouldn’t be holding a gun in his hands when it did. Cooper was oddly flippant about the episode from the previous morning, seeming no more upset than a man with a scuffed shoe, even with bruising on his throat that made Seth ill to look at.
“Think nothing of it, I’m sure I deserved it for something. The Lord knows I could think of a few reasons to give you a good thrashing.”
Seth was the last to arrive in the clearing.
Bishop stood tall and determined, Sir Reginald beside him. Slate grey hair and an athletic build for a man in his sixties, Sir Reginald’s dark eyes shot him a look of pure malice before promptly turning his head to speak to his nephew. His face hardened in the years since Seth had last seen him. It helped his nerves some that Sir Reginald hadn’t spoken to him.
But what would they say? Nothing that hadn’t already been said.I’m sorry. I wish it was me,and of course, the response would be the same.You should be sorry. Itshouldhave been you.
When Seth was gone, all that would remain of him would be dust. No lands or titles to transfer, not even a name in a family bible. Sir Reginald had lost all of that within six months, when a fire took one heir and a fever took the next. It had taken such a toll on his heart that many speculated that he had little time left. But Seth hadtriedto save his son, had looked andlooked… his heart rate increased and his legs trembled while he fought the urge to run.
Sabre grunted peevishly underneath him.
Tightening his shoulders, Seth shoved the memories down.
Not now.
With a series of deep breaths, Seth resigned himself to the other man’s presence.
Cooper stood next to Mr. EzekielSanderson, the young man that accompanied Lord Bolderwood to Cooper House.“I come from a long line of Sanderson’s, none of them are solicitors.”But when askedwhereexactly his family was from, he gave a nondescript answer,“East.”Cooper was wasting his time. Perhaps not an orphan, but one of Lord Bolderwood’s ‘children’ all the same. Mr. Sanderson declined brandy following supper. He had, however, enthusiastically accepted an offered cigar. Polite, soft-spoken, but curious. He had a wealth of knowledge concerning weaponry that surpassed Seth’s.
Mr. Nott was the only one who hadn’t turned the round into a spectator sport. He stood alone next to Mr. Edgars and Lord Bolderwood, his rifle in a carrying case on his back.