Page 5 of A Lovely White Christmastide
“So you would have me believe that our war-hardened general invited us for Christmastide out of the generosity of his heart even though the man never remembered your name correctly in the four years we served with him?”
Kaye smirked. “Perhaps he thinks Key is spelled Kaye. He did at least get it correct on the invitation.”
Carswell perused the invitation again, noting the loops and swirls in the writing. “You know, Kaye, I have seen the general’s writing. This is not it. How about you tell me the real source of this invitation?”
The taller man blew out a breath and ran a hand through his dark hair. “He needs help.”
“How so?”
“His wife was a schoolfriend of my mother’s. Her last letter painted a pretty dismal picture. It seems our old general has a bad case of melancholia now that he is no longer in service. She thinks a gathering of a few old comrades will do him good.”
Carswell stared down at his arm, three of his fingers curled under his hand. He could understand feeling a bit down. After the months he’d spent recovering from his injury and the subsequent fever, he’d found himself wondering where he’d fit in Society with his bum hand.
His eyes flitted to Kaye. The man had saved his life and stayed by him for months, pulling him out of his dark thoughts with his tomfoolery. He owed Daniel Kaye so much. Was that why he put up with the chaos he brought?
He lifted his good hand and began straightening his desk as he pondered the uncomfortable past. Duty always had won out in his life, leaving little room for more tender feelings.
Kaye slapped his hands on the side of his chair and rose. “Good. We leave tomorrow.”
“Hold on, I did not agree to anything yet.”
Leaning over his hands he’d placed on the desk, Kaye grinned. “You lost the bet, my good man.”
Carswell looked down at the completely organized desk, each item precisely where he put it every day. Kaye was right. He had a problem. But he’d never tell the grinning fool.
“Fine. But if I freeze to death on this madcap journey, it will be on your head.”
“I shall have it engraved on your headstone. Here lies Carswell Bingham, retired captain of His Majesty's Royal Army, fourth baron of Kettering, faithful friend, frozen to death on an errand of love, all at the behest of his devilishly handsome and thoughtful first lieutenant. May he rest in peace.”
“If you can fit that on a headstone, I will be impressed. Might I suggest decreasing word count by taking out everything that is untrue?”
“I see no falsehoods in that epitaph.”
“Of course you do not. Best to just put Carswell Bingham, fourth baron of Kettering, pestered to death by his well-meaning friend Daniel Kaye.”
“I am honored and at the same time affronted.”
“Odd. I meant it as a pure affront.”
“Yes, but you have finally admitted we are actually friends.”
The cheeky smile on Kaye’s face pulled a begrudging smile from Carswell. “Do not tell anyone. It might ruin my reputation, and then where would I be?”
Kaye’s bark of laughter filled the room. “There is hope for you yet, Captain.”
“Can we desist with the captain bit? I have not been a captain in over six months.”
“Sorry. Old habits die hard. Would you prefer Your Lordship?”
Carswell cringed. “No. That makes me sound pretentious. Might as well call me Bingham, or in private you may call me Carswell.”
Kaye said both names several times. “It will take some time to get used to”—he glanced from side to side as if checking to see if anyone else was in the room—“Carswell. I feel like I am breaking some unspoken rule addressing you as such. Maybe I will stick with Bingham.” He rubbed a hand on his neck and chuckled. “I suppose you should call me Dan as my friends do.”
“I shall adhere to your given name if I ever have need of it. I never can understand why people shorten names. One’s parents give them names expecting they will be called such, and then they get butchered because their friends are too lazy to say the whole of it.”
“I suppose that means you do not want to be called Cars or Bing?”
Kaye might as well have scratched his nails on a slate. It would have had the same irritating effect as the sound of his name being cut up into unsatisfactory pieces. “Absolutely not.”
