Page 90 of Thomas
Cameron had been holding his hand since they’d gotten out of the car, but the doorway to the sitting room wasn’t big enough for the two of them to pass through together, so Thomas gently dropped his mate’s hand and stepped forward.
This room was in better condition as far as cleanliness was concerned. The furniture was old and the upholstery faded, but it didn’t feel quite like the set of a horror movie like the corridor had.
The viscount stood by the seating near the window, dressed finely but… not looking well. Not at all. He was too thin, somewhat gaunt, and his olive coloring was off. His eyes were still blue, but dulled. Ashen.
Thomas had been tense and anxious leading up to this day—to this moment. Nothing about his surroundings nor the state of his younger father helped to ease this stress.
“Thomas,” the viscount said, smiling warmly. “Lord Ashford, welcome—thank you for requesting to visit. Please, have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.”
“Thank you for having us,” Cameron said politely to fill the space of Thomas’s discourteous silence as they all sat down. What had they done with the money from Prince Alexander’s dowry? Oliver had expressed that it was a hefty sum. It obviously hadn’t been used to improve the estate.
“We’d heard that the two of you were bonded and doing well,” the viscount said cheerfully. “It’s nice to see it for myself. Your connection feels stable and strong. Congratulations to you both, belatedly.”
“Thank you,” Cameron offered once more. “I’ve been exceptionally grateful for Thomas and our arrangement. I consider myself very lucky.”
“Well, now,” the viscount crooned, all charm and radiance despite his visible frailty, “that is wonderful to hear. I’m so glad for it.”
Thomas had been looking around the room, taking inventory, his mind spinning. When he looked at his younger father, the man was staring back at him expectantly. Thomas suddenly realized that he hadn’t uttered a word since they’d come into the estate. It was his turn to talk, but he didn’t have the space nor patience for polite niceties.
“Why is the castle in such a distasteful state?” he asked his younger father directly. “What have the two of you done with the money from Prince Alexander’s dowry?” This was the kind of behavior that had gotten him into trouble within this family, but he didn’t care. The worst had already been done to him. He wanted answers.
The viscount straightened his shoulders. His smile was pained. “You’ve always been strong-minded, Thomas. That much is certain. Often, I am amazed that I somehow managed to produce such bold, fearless offspring when I am nothing of the sort.”
Thomas had nothing to say to that, so he waited.
The viscount sighed. “Your elder father and I have… not been getting along well in recent months, truth be told.”
The door to the sitting room clicked open and the older man came inside, hunched as he carefully walked with a tray of tea. He offered to serve the drinks, but the viscount politely declinedand turned him away. When he was gone, Cameron shifted to the edge of the couch and began pouring them all a cup.
“Where is he?” Thomas asked, wanting to get the conversation back on track. “My elder father? I barely sense his presence.” Which was a bit of a relief, but also strange. Anticlimactic.
“He’s in his study,” the viscount answered after thanking Cameron. He lifted his cup and held it in his lap. “He never leaves that room. We fought after Oliver left and his engagement fell apart. I disagreed with his way of handling things… as I often do. This time, however, I held my ground. Some unpleasant things were said, and done, and now he refuses to speak to me or feed—well, he will feed, but as little as possible and reluctantly. This is his way of punishing both of us, I suppose.”
Intrigued, Thomas sat with his tea untouched. The viscount would openly chastise his elder father and disagree with him for certain, but the sensation was like a swan flapping its wing to discourage a bull. It always had little to no impact. “What did you disagree about?”
The viscount exhaled another weighted sigh, still holding his tea. “Oh, many, many things. Your elder father enjoys pushing everything to its limit—testing everything and everyone to see how far he might bend them to his will. He’s done this with you—notsomuch with Sasha, but he attempted it again with Oliver, and I…” He paused and turned to gaze out the window flooded with silver light. Heavy rain pelted against the glass, streaking it with long, wormlike tendrils.
Thomas expected him to go on, but when too many beats had passed, his anger began bubbling in his chest. “You what?” he asked bluntly.
The viscount met his eyes. “I refused to let him harass our children any further. What happened with you was a terrible mistake?—”
Thomas scoffed with his entire being. “Amistake? Isthatwhat we’re calling it?”
“It was a mistake,” the viscount said firmly. “And I did not—I would not let him do it again. As for the money, it’s in a safe place, which is part of our quarrel. Before Hudson left, he helped me to put it somewhere secure. I wanted to use it to address the state of the castle, which you can well see is in desperate need of many repairs. But your elder father wanted to use it for other means.”
“What ‘other means’?” Thomas said loudly. “Just say it, goddammit. Why waste time speaking in coded euphemisms?” Cameron reached out and wrapped his hand around his against the couch cushion. The touch reminded Thomas to breathe, and so he did.
How dare this man decide that now he wanted to be brave?Nowhe wanted to stand up for what was right?
The viscount visibly bristled, but held his posture with dignity. “He wanted to use it to hunt your younger brother down and drag him back to the castle. With the engagement broken, no one would know whether he was abroad or in a cell, so he was willing to use every last penny to bend his will once more. I refused to let that happen, so here we are.”
Thomas scowled at him, despising him. Did he want a medal? “Good for you, I suppose. After letting one son rot beneath the castle for three months and not lifting a finger to help him, you learned that maybe it was amistakeand you shouldn’t do it again. Well done for personal growth.”
The silence hung in the air, stiff and frosty.
The viscount stilled. He took a breath. “You inherited your sharp tongue and wit from him as well as your visage, you realize.”
“Oh, please do insult me further. As if you haven’t done so enough.”
