Page 67 of Impossible
“Madame Helene’s.” Max remembered it quite well.
“Holy shit, I’d forgotten that!” Lucien slapped the table. “I wonder if she’s still in business.”
“Thinking of going there later?” Dougal asked slyly.
Before Lucien could answer, Becky returned with the ale. She stayed to chat for a few more minutes before moving on to another table.
Dougal lifted his mug. “To old friends and new memories.”
“Hear, hear.” Lucien raised his ale.
Max said nothing, but held his mug out before taking a long drink. Being here was like a dream. He could almost forget the pain of the past few years, imagine he was the carefree young man who thought he was invincible.
So why not do that for one night? Couldn’t he pretend he hadn’t gone to Spain? Hadn’t suffered tremendous loss and committed terrible acts?
“Ho, there, look what the wind blew in!” A jolly voice carried over them, prompting Max to look up at the new arrival.
Oliver Kent stood behind an empty chair at their table, his dark blue eyes piercing as he looked at each of them in turn, ending with Max. “Warfield, haven’t seen you in London in some time. A year at least.”
Max stiffened, wondering if he would mention the unanswered letters he’d written. “Evening, Kent.”
Kent greeted Lucien and Dougal, who invited him to sit. The older man set his glass of port on the table and took the empty chair in front of him. “It’s a coincidence to see you here tonight, Warfield. I was just talking about you earlier.”
“Oh?” The back of Max’s neck prickled. He expected people to talk about him, whether he was in London or not, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about it.
After taking a sip of port, Kent set his glass back on the table, keeping his hand around the stem of the glass. “There’s talk you’re to be elevated to earl. Well deserved, wouldn’t you say, gentlemen?” He lifted his glass again and took another drink.
Max gripped his mug as if he had to hold on to it to keep from drowning.
“Excellent news!” Dougal said, grinning toward Max. “I can’t think of a man more deserving after what you did in Spain.”
“It wasn’t just me,” Max muttered. “If they’re handing out peerages or elevating peerages, Lucien should get one too.” He sent a glower across the table at Lucien.
“Honestly, it seems egregious to award either of us for committing the atrocities of war,” Lucien said quietly. He took a long drink and kept hold of his mug after setting it down, as if he might need to swallow the remainder of the contents at a moment’s notice.
Max realized he was doing the same.
While he agreed wholeheartedly with what Lucien was saying, the only reason they were lauded was because of Lucien. Without his interference, Max would probably have died. And he’d been ready to do so. Without Lucia and knowing how she’d died, he hadn’t wanted to continue on. More importantly, he’d wanted to punish those who’d brutalized her.
“You’re too modest,” Kent said with a wave of his hand. “We love to celebrate war heroes, and that’s what you both are, whether you like it or not.”
Max didn’t like it at all. He finished his ale and abruptly stood. His hopes for the evening had been completely dashed. There was no putting the past out of his mind now. Not tonight.
“Evening, Kent.” Max looked to Lucien and Dougal. “I’m fatigued. No need to cut your evening short. Enjoy yourselves.” With a nod, he started toward the door.
He didn’t make it out before Dougal was beside him. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“After my time as a hermit these past years, I find this…difficult.” That wasn’t it exactly, but it was close enough. He thought of Ada and her conjecture that he actuallywasthe hermit living in his folly at Stonehill. While he didn’t live in the folly, he absolutely was the Hermit of Stonehill. Perhaps he could convince whoever had suggested his title change that he should be Hermit of Warfield instead of earl. That he could live with.
Max walked out into the warm night intent on finding a hack to take him back to the Phoenix Club.
“Max, wait!” Lucien called after him. He hurried past Max and moved to block his path. “Don’t let Kent’s gossip ruin our evening.”
“This was a mistake. I can’t pretend I’m a green lad without a care in the world.”
Lucien’s jaw clenched. “No one’s asking you to do that.”
Dougal had stopped beside Max. He pivoted so that he faced both Max and Lucien. “Ignore Kent. We can always go back to the Phoenix Club and enjoy ourselves there.”
