Page 28 of Read To Me, Lyon

Winthrop took another sip of his brandy before rising and making his way to a table. He pulled a letter off a stack of papers. He handed it to Oliver, who opened it.

As he began to read, his breath caught in surprise. The letter was from the Duke of Wellington. The contents were not shocking—at least not in Oliver’s opinion. But, he supposed, they awakened some memories Winthrop would rather forget. He read the document and passed it to Carrington and looked at his friend for an explanation.

Winthrop scowled. “I’m not a hero. Almost a dozen men died under my command. I couldn’t save them.”

Silence hung in the room. His friend finished his brandy. “Christ, I tried.”

“The men under your command were dedicated to you. They wouldn’t want you to mourn them this way. I was there,” Carrington said.

“Yes, but you weren’t in charge,” Winthrop snapped back.

“No, but they were like brothers to me.” Carrington continued. “We told each other everything. You know, they respected you.”

Oliver reached over and squeezed Winthrop’s hand. “I’m sorry you lost so many, but you can’t drink yourself to death.”

Winthrop wiped at his eyes. “What do either of you suggest I do? I can’t sleep, and I hate being around people—crowds. And loud noises.”

“Return to London and be closer to those who love you,” Oliver suggested.

“London is crowded. And noisy. It’s… well, besides, I’m the last of my line since my mother passed while I was away. I feel better here in the country.”

Carrington shook his head. “If you felt better, you wouldn’t be drinking brandy for breakfast. And you’re forgetting—you have us.”

Oliver nodded. “My mother loves you like a second son. You have her. And Julia is beside herself with worry over you.”

Winthrop closed his eyes as if Oliver’s sister’s name pained him. He wondered for a moment if something more than his sister’s tendre existed between them.

“Come back to London,” Carrington pleaded.

Winthrop sagged his shoulders and sighed, defeated. Then he met their gazes. “I will not attend any balls or anything like that.”

Oliver shrugged. “Neither of us enjoy balls, so we won’t be forcing you to attend any. But we would ask you to join us for dinners or cards at the clubs.”

Winthrop nodded. “All right. I will. First, I need to visit my men’s families. That is why I returned here.”

Most of the men who fought alongside Winthrop had been from the local village bordering his estate. Oliver couldn’t fathom how difficult being here must be for his friend. Now Carrington moved to sit next to Winthrop. He squeezed his shoulder. “I will join you.”

Oliver nodded. “Me too.”

Winthrop shook his head. “Everly, I insist you leave tomorrow. Carrington and I will follow by the end of the week. I can’t keep you away from your bride.”

“She understands—”

Interrupting him, Winthrop said, “That may be the case, but I want you to enjoy your first weeks of marriage. Carrington can handle me.”

Oliver glanced at Carrington, who gave a slight nod. There was no use in fighting with Winthrop, and he couldn’t deny that the idea of returning to Kitty a few days early thrilled him.

“Fine, but you promise you will have dinner with my family on Saturday. My mother, sister, and Kitty’s sisters are moving back into the Everly Townhouse while I’m visiting you.”

Winthrop nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Winthrop stood and walked to the window, gazing out across his estate grounds. Eventually, he said, “How is married life? I know there was some uncertainty about the match.”

“It has gone well. I love her.”

Both Carrington and Winthrop turned to face him, staring at him in shock. He felt himself flush. “I do. She is everything I could ask for.”