Mending Him by Bonnie Dee & Summer Devon

Author:Bonnie Dee & Summer Devon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: opposites attract, healing, family drama, almost cousins, gay historical
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2014-09-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Charles knew that Robbie didn’t often allow his desire to surface and he even more rarely admitted its existence. Robbie actually stated that he wanted to go out in the carriage with Charles—and wasn’t that a delicious idea. Perhaps the conversation about the future had added some boldness to his usual nature.

Or perhaps he was thinking of a time when he would be gone from the hall and unable to touch Charles again.

Charles had managed to neatly avoid those thoughts, and he even managed to avoid all conversations with Phillip. The future, so bright for his Robbie, still loomed gray for himself. But it was a brighter gray, perhaps a rainy morning and not a late-Sunday-in-November shade now that his health improved.

He pushed to make himself better, but he still flagged quickly. Charles felt exhausted from his morning’s exertions, and what had he done? Walked in the garden, sat and supervised Robbie’s fitting, then walked to the parlor and sat some more. Damn, his lack of energy was frustrating. He wanted to be able to jump up and run, simply flat-out run like a horse given its head. But for now, freedom was still not in his grasp. He should be grateful even to be on crutches. It was a huge step forward for him—pun intended.

Charles stretched out on the sofa, not quite full length as it was too short. He rested his head on a lace-and-bead-covered pillow and slung an arm over his eyes. This wasn’t the most comfortable spot for a cat nap, but it would do.

He pulled out his mental list of professions, trying to decide which he could undertake—his usual method to while away time when alone. A small creak brought him from a half doze to full alertness.

He almost called out a warning so whoever entered the room wouldn’t be surprised by his presence, but a quality to the soft footsteps made him curious. Someone was making an effort to sneak, and if he spoke, they’d either flee or stop pretending stealth.

Charles feigned sleep and through nearly closed eyes, watched Samuel walk quietly about the room. He carried a small leather satchel, the type a doctor might employ, folded open. Samuel walked to an occasional table, picked up a silver vase and unceremoniously dumped it into the bag.

God above, the boy was stealing from his own family. Charles wondered if he should speak up. But no. This was none of his affair, after all.

What would Robbie say if Charles employed that argument with him? He’d point out that one of the footmen or the maids would get the blame should the items go missing. That was unacceptable. Anyone in any position of power must do what he could to prevent suffering in the lower classes. Charles stifled a sigh. He was hardly in a position of power, he argued with the imaginary Robbie.

That Robbie spoke with his mild, calm voice. Noblesse oblige was the proper attitude even for those without a drop of noble blood.

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