He would never let Blackbrook regret befriending him. He couldn’t. It would be the worst folly to lose the only true friend he’d had his entire life.
“I wish you a good journey to Cornwall,” he said. “And I promise to look in on your mother and to stay away from your sister. I promise you.”
“You already promised that,” he said. “And I’m beginning to feel like the lady doth protest too much.”
“I only protest so much because I can see the worry upon your face.”
“Hmm,” Blackbrook replied. “It is a brother’s job to worry about his sister.” But then he hesitated. “Actually, there is something I need you to do in regards to my sister.”
“What is that?” James asked, curious.
“Keep an eye on Drexel. I don’t wish anything to happen there. That man, he has an eye out for her, and I don’t know why, but I don’t think he’ll yield easily, and with me gone, he might—”
“Take advantage?” James supplied.
Blackbrook’s eyes narrowed with disgust. “Exactly.”
“I’ll ensure that Drexel stays away from your family. It will all be well. I should let nothing befall them.”
“Thank you, James,” Blackbrook said, his tense look easing. “You are indeed a good friend.”
“Thank you,” James said. “That is a compliment coming from you, for you have always been true.”
Blackbrook smiled, but it did not reach his once jovial eyes. “I don’t feel true these days. I feel rather shaken.”
“I suppose that’s a natural circumstance when one’s father dies.”
“You didn’t feel that way,” Blackbrook replied.
He squeezed his free hand into a fist. “You know why.”
Blackbrook said nothing. He did know why.
Those dark final days. The smells. The wailing. His father cursing them all as traitors.
“Come,” Blackbrook urged. “Let us ride. We can both shake this black mood.”
“Are you in a black mood?” he asked with false cheer. “I’m as cheerful as spring.”
“Well in England, spring means rain.”
James threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. “It is true. This beautiful jeweled isle is made green by inches and inches of rain. Now, let us ride back to town and have some coffee.”
“Coffee?” Blackbrook said incredulously. “I’m about to head to Cornwall and descend a mine. Let’s go have gin.”
Once again, his grasp at good humor slipped away. “I cannot. I have a prior commitment,” he said.
“You do?”
“Indeed I do,” he said, unwilling to dig himself into a deeper pit.
“A dancer?” Blackbrook asked.
“An opera singer,” he countered quickly. “I mustn’t disappoint her.”
And he hated the lie more than anything, but he could not tell his friend the truth. The truth would damn their friendship forever, and he could scarcely believe that he was putting their friendship in such peril as it was
Blackbrook grinned. “Well, I wish you joy of her. I hope the two of you hit the right notes.”