Page 18 of A Lady's Beloved Novelist
Almost as soon as it was posted, she was overthinking all the things that were in the letter. Andrea had to stop herself from thinking of new iterations of what she would put in there. It was too late, and now there was nothing she could do about it but wait for James to respond to her.
She was not good at waiting. Andrea thought about her lack of new reading material and thought she would go mad if she had to read another of Morris’s older novels. She knew what happened in every single adventure, and there was no real fun in that.
However, her letters to the author did not seem to be working since there was still no new book in the shop whenever she visited the town nearby. Andrea huffed in frustration before wondering to herself if this was the final breaking point where she would finally read one of the classics that her mother had been requesting for her to look at.
Chapter 9
James froze as he entered the front door to his living quarters. Someone was there with him. He had been out all day; the door had been locked and now it was unlocked. He could see the shadow of a man against the window, but the light was fading in such a way that he could not make out who it was.
He had been living in such a relaxed way that the only weapon he had to hand was a closed umbrella. James took it carefully from the rack and closed the front door behind him.
“Get out of my house,” he called into the gloom. His voice alerted the shadow of his arrival, and he watched as the head of the shadow turned slightly.
“I know I have not been this far west in a whilst, but I am sure they do not greet old friends with umbrellas,” the all-too-familiar voice chuckled. James froze at the sound of the tone. It was taunting him, but it was also as though he heard a ghost—a voice from the past that he had anticipated he would never hear again.
“Cecil,” James remarked, his stance relaxing slightly, though he was still on edge.
“I am a Sir now, actually,” Cecil corrected up whilst stepping closer into the light.
His former friend stalked about the room with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Who did you blackmail to get that title?” James asked, unable to help the slight dig. He knew he should not stoop to such levels, but if there was one person who could bring out the worst in him, it was Cecil.
His auburn hair held a dusting of grey that certainly had not been there the last time James had seen him, and the skin around his eyes was beginning to crack. Other than that, James was staring at a man whom he wished was not standing in his front room at that moment, and he looked almost the same since he had last seen him. James was trying his best to rack his brain to think of the last time that he would have seen Cecil, but nothing came to mind; a goodbye that must have been as relieving as it was uneventful.
“Very funny, but I earned this one all on my own.” Cecil laughed off the question.
James did not believe Cecil would ever be able to honorably earn a title of such esteem; he knew there must be something else at play. But for the moment, he stopped himself from saying anything on the matter because he did not want to be rude.
“To what do I owe this unplanned visit?” James asked whilst finally putting down the umbrella.
“Can an old friend not just show up unannounced without wanting anything?” Cecil asked, feigning innocence.
“No,” James said, crossing the room to light a lamp. He was confused as to why no servants had been through to do the job for him, but it was not worth the trouble of going to ask for them.
“I was hoping I would be able to stay with you for a time?” Cecil was a lot more tentative all of a sudden, his hands knitted together in front of him as he chewed at his bottom lip.“You see, I have had a lot of time to do some thinking. The way that I have been acting…well, let’s just say it could have been better, right?”
“I suppose that may be a slight understatement.” James nodded slowly.
“I came here because I was hoping that we could rekindle our friendship.”
James was almost too stunned to speak. He gaped at the man he had long ago considered a friend, yet time and time again Cecil had proven himself to be anything but.
“How did you even know that I was here?” James asked, scratching his head in confusion.
“Your mother, she told me you were here.” Cecil shrugged as though it were obvious.
“Of course,” James said in a dry tone. He should have told his mother that if Cecil ever came knocking, the best course of action would be to turn him away. Unfortunately, the thought had escaped him before he had left for his retreat to the countryside, and so he was now paying the consequences for that.
“She’s lovely, your mother.” Cecil smiled fondly.“I stayed for some dinner and spoke with your father, too. He asked me to pass on the message that you need to be more persistent with the baron’s girl. Mean anything to you?”
“Something,” James murmured.“How long are you planning to stay for? I really did not think I would be having guests whilst staying here.”
“I can tell,” Cecil jested whilst gesturing to the room around them.“I am only kidding.”
But James did not laugh. He was still reeling from the surprise of seeing a face from his past in his front room.
“I am not too sure in all honesty,” Cecil said in answer to his original question.“Parents are having another one of those months where they’re being strict with what they divvy out to me,” he admitted.“So I am—”
