Fairchild by Jaima Fixsen

Author:Jaima Fixsen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-01-31T08:00:00+00:00

*****

“How much longer will you stay?” Tom’s mother asked over the breakfast table.

“Mmm?” Tom decapitated his egg and looked up.

“I’m happy to have you here of course, but I wondered how long you intend to stay.”

He had only intended to visit for a week. Already he’d stayed four extra days, and planned to stay as long as he could stand Chippenstone. He had no desire to be in London, not while she still haunted him.

“Tired of me already?” he teased, scooping runny egg onto his toast. While his mother protested, he folded the toast in half and bit off the corner, before yolk could run too far down his fingers.

It was pathetic, really, he thought, licking his fingers clean. In better moments he could laugh at himself, but moments like this he wanted to stick his head in the horse trough. His mother only made it worse, bringing up Sophy every chance she got. He positively hated that book of hers, The Wicked Duke.

Last night, he had suggested starting something new.

“But I’m enjoying it,” she said, her eyes all innocence. “I thought you didn’t mind it. You certainly seemed to enjoy reading it with Miss Sophy.”

He had enjoyed it then. But every evening since, he’d been unable to read it without casting Sophy Rushford in every scene, seeing the flick of her fingers, the turn of her wrist, exactly like a lovesick idiot.

He stabbed a forkful of ham and shoved it into his mouth.

“Hungry?” his mother asked.

He replied with a grunt.

“It’s just that you don’t seem contented here,” his mother continued, recapturing his attention. “I know you prefer London. You needn’t put yourself to so much trouble for me.”

That forced a bland smile from him. Both of them knew he wasn’t staying for her; his visits were always frequent and short.

“Why don’t I go with you?”

He nearly choked on his coffee. “What?”

“I thought maybe I’d go with you to London this spring.”

“You never go to London,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin, trying to ignore the burn in his nose.

“Don’t you want me to go?”

“Of course I want your company. I drag myself all the way here, just to see you. You surprised me, that’s all.”

“I might enjoy a change of scene,” she said, as if she had been born idle and rich. Tom raised his eyebrows. “Well, why shouldn’t I?”

Tom cleared his throat. “I’m not sure London is the best place for me right now, mother.”

“Of course it is. There you have your work and the company of your friends. And if you should chance to see—”

“I think it very unlikely,” he broke in. “Nor would I wish it.”

“Well I wish very much to go to London,” she said, folding her hands.

“Do you?” he said, fixing her with a stare. She didn’t blink, so he gave up. He didn’t want to go to London at all, not with his mother reminding him about her three times a day. But saying that would be admitting defeat. “Very well. We’ll go.

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