Page 28 of Tainted Reasoning

Chapter Thirteen

William

Turning over in my bed, I reach out for my phone, and through bleary eyes, I look at the time. Ten am. Urgh! I was supposed to help Nicholas in a meeting at nine. I guess he chose not to wake me. I should be grateful for small mercies since it was past two before I fell asleep. After speaking to Tamara, I needed something to clear my mind of the thoughts of failure, which I had running through it. It was then I remembered the app Nicholas had discovered and installed on my phone. A flag quiz. I spent the next two hours trying to beat my best scores from the previous times I’d played it, and needless to say, I did so with ease and fell asleep at two with a contented brain. Sadly, I’ve not woken with one though. Having still got the vision in my head of Tamara as she refused my hand, fearing I would hurt her again. All I wanted to do was comfort her with a stiff drink, but she thought I wanted more and was scared. Scared of me. I need to stay away from her. Give her time to realize…well, there is nothing to realize – I am a monster. She just needs to know I won’t hurt her. I’ll use the memory I have of her sweet velvety pussy for my needs, but I won’t ever abuse the real thing again.

Sliding from my bed, I pull on a pair of jogging bottoms that had been lying, discarded from a previous day, on my bedroom floor. I fumble sleepily into the bathroom, take a piss, and splash some water on my face. If I’m hiding out all day, I don’t need to be clean and presentable. Going back into my bedroom, I grab a t-shirt from a drawer and pull it on over my head.

I’ve got two choices now. Go in search of food, which is likely to be quicker, or order something to be brought up. My brother is currently running Oakfield Hall on skeleton staff while we sort out the issues with the society. Less chance of any underhand dealings being discovered that way. But I really don’t want to risk seeing Tamara, so my stomach is going to have to wait. I pick up the intercom phone and call down to the kitchen.

“My Lord, William,” the chef answers in a cheerful manner.

“Morning,” I try to reply with the same happiness. “I’m going to take my breakfast in my rooms today. Can you send it up, please?”

“Of course, anything in particular you’d like?”

“No, just the usual.”

I don’t know why the chef bothers to ask. I’ve eaten the same thing, now, for twenty years. Two Weetabix with full fat milk and a teaspoon of sugar, followed by two slices of white bread toast with strawberry jam, which mustn’t have any lumps in. I wash it all down with a glass of apple juice. No coffee, tea, fancy French pastries, or even sausage, bacon and eggs for me. Cereal, toast, and apple juice is all I need to start the day right.

“It could be a little while as the staff are busy with the Duke and his meeting. I’ll see if I can bring it up myself.” I can hear the chef start to juggle pans in the background. I know he’s busy as well, and I appreciate the kind gesture.

“No hurry. I’ll be in the playroom,” I inform him and hang up.

Before I leave my bedroom, I push my feet into a pair of warm woolen slippers. Oakfield Hall has an abundance of wooden and marble floors, costing a small fortune to heat. It’s often easier to wrap up warm in the colder months. I grab a sweater and slip it on over my head then leave my rooms and head down the corridor to the room Nicholas and I share. This place is our sanctuary, and only we’re allowed in it. It’s the place we came to as boys, whiling away the hours of boredom and monotony that came from being the sons of a Duke who wanted nothing to do with us until we were old enough to be useful. That happened at the age of ten for Nicholas, but it never happened for me. I was never of importance to my father. I was the spare, and a damaged one at that.

I push open the door to the room, and I’m immediately transported back to my childhood with visions of Nicholas and I running around playing cops and robbers. He was always the robber. Ironic really! When he became more involved in his duties as the future Duke, I discovered a love for Lego, and proudly displayed in the room, now, are many of the creations I made. I was obsessed with it and would sit for hours religiously following the instructions until I’d built what I was supposed to. I remember once there was a piece missing from a pack, and unable to cope with that, I started to have a meltdown. How could I complete what I was doing without that piece? I had to finish it. I’d started, and now it would remain forever incomplete. Nicholas found me sitting in a corner with my fists clenched tightly into little balls. He immediately broke apart a creation he’d made and found the piece I needed. The memory brings back happy thoughts for me, and I seek the model out in the row of my Star Wars builds. The Millennium Falcon sits proudly next to my Death Star and Sand Crawler. Like many boys, I went through a Star Wars phase. I guess, like most, I haven’t really stopped. I still have regular binge-watching marathons.

Completing these three massive projects was my greatest feat in life. The instructions sit beside the Falcon, and I know instantly how my day of hiding will be spent. I pick up the Falcon and the instructions and bring them over to some cushions laid out on the floor. Placing them both down, I begin the painstaking process of pulling the Millennium Falcon apart, so I can rebuild it, once again.

After several hours and a half-eaten breakfast followed up by a half-eaten ham sandwich for lunch, I’m halfway through the rebuilding of Hans Solo’s pride and joy. I’m just fixing one of the guns in place when I hear soft steps behind me. I wait a beat and turn my head around to see Tamara halfway across the room.

“Out!” I snap at her, and she flinches back but doesn’t stop. “You can’t be in here.”

“Nicholas gave me a note to say I could come in to talk to you.” Now standing in front of me, she bends down to place the note on the floor. “He said I’m forbidden to touch your Lego though.”

My eyes skim over the note, and I see Nicholas has even written that exact phrase down. I can’t help but snort out a laugh.

“He said something about girls not understanding the dynamics of what it takes to build these complex structures, and if I touch them, I’ll break them.”

I can’t help but let another chuckle escape at her comment. I can picture Nicholas saying those exact words with his arms folded sternly across his chest, and his brows furrowed together. I can also picture Victoria behind him rolling her eyes in frustration at her chauvinist husband.

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you that we don’t have pink and purple Lego, so you wouldn’t be interested anyway.

“I think it was on the tip of his tongue, but Victoria purposely stood on his foot with her Louboutin’s to shut him up before he dug an even bigger hole for himself.”

“That’s my brother for you!” I roll my eyes and pat the bean bag next to me for her to take a seat.

“Did you make all these?” Tamara asks as she gracefully lowers herself until she’s sitting with her legs tucked under her bottom. She’s wearing blue jeans and a maroon sweater today. It seems strange not to see her in the skirts and blouses she favors.

“I did…well, except for a few small bits. Nicholas was never good at following instructions.”

“I can see him being that way.”

“You’ve no idea.” I crack another smile. Tamara goes quiet. “Is everything alright?” I ask her.

“Yes.” She looks up at me, but I can’t meet her eyes. I flick my ear then my nose. I know I’m doing it, but it’s not something I can stop.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ok,” I reply hesitantly.

“I’ve got this meeting in an hour, and I wondered if you would come with me? I volunteer at a daycare center whenever I can, and it’d be good for the children to meet a real-life Earl.”

“I don’t know.” My initial thought is one of terror. Lots of people and noisy children.

“Please,” Tamara almost whispers her plea, and I simply can’t say no.

“Alright. I’ll get ready to go.”

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