Page 3 of Loved to Death

Luckily Thomas’ back was to them so he had time to school his features. He put his jacket on and turned to face the two as his father’s son instead of as their lover. “Marry a whore?Me?”

The pain and betrayal on both of their faces burned into his soul, but he forced out an uncaring chuckle. It was better to crush these ideas immediately before they turned into hopes and dreams for a future that could never be. “My father would never allow it.” He walked to the door, moved the chair aside, and put his hand on the doorknob. “It appears I’ve been too generous and given you both the wrong impression. For the next week, I’ll spend my money at Jack’s and have a taste of his saloon girls.”

A tear slid down Sarah’s face, and Jeffrey whispered, “Please don’t. I’m sorry.”

Forcing a glare, Thomas said, “Mention marriage to me ever again, and it will be our last night together.” He opened the door and left without looking back. He knew they would comfort each other, and that would have to be enough.

Once he got outside, Thomas greeted his horse with a gentle pat on the neck while he unhooked her reins from the saloon’s railing. “Sorry, sweet girl, I didn’t mean to leave you here all night.” He pulled her to a nearby water trough and let her drink before getting in the saddle. “Let’s go home.” He nudged her into a trot.

A few minutes later when they reached the outskirts of town, he urged her to a gallop, and before long, he was dismounting in front of his father’s stables.

The stable boy came out to greet Thomas. “Mr. Clarke.” The boy nodded deferentially while taking the reins.

“Feed her and brush her down.”

“Yes, sir.”

With icy dread in his guts, Thomas walked briskly to the main house.Better to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.

He walked in the front door, and one of the newer servants took his coat. The timid young woman said, “Your father’s waiting for you in the study, Mr. Clarke.”

“Of course he is,” Thomas muttered. He walked through the ostentatious house, opened the study door without knocking, and closed it behind him.

William Clarke sat behind his desk looking over some ledgers. Thomas waited patiently, knowing better than to speak before being spoken to. He watched his father write down some figures and thought for the hundredth time how ironic it was that he was the spitting image of the older man while their personalities were complete opposites. They were both six foot tall, with light-brown hair, hazel eyes, light skin that tanned easily in the sun, and broad shoulders. His somewhat shorter older brother, Samuel, took after their mother with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin that tended to burn rather than tan. And yet Samuel behaved exactly like their father. Following all of society’s rules, getting engaged to a woman his father approved of, and focusing all of his time and attention on their company’s prosperity.

Without looking up, the older man said, “Do you know what time it is, Thomas?”

Thomas glanced at the grandfather clock against the left wall. “Twenty past eight.” He gestured to the door. “Shall I go fetch the strap and bend over the desk?”

William’s eyes snapped up.

Thomas realized belatedly that his tone had strayed toward belligerence.

William closed the ledger, folded his hands on the desk, and looked up at his son. “No.”

“No?”What sort of game is the older man playing?

“No,” William reiterated while glaring. “Your brother pointed something out to me last night. I haven’t had to strap him since he was fifteen. You’renineteen, Thomas. You’re a man. And yet here you are again dragging yourself home after a night of debauchery. Drinking, whoring, gambling, and God knows what else. I’ve beaten you, I’ve yelled until I’m blue in the face, your mother has cried countless tears, and your brother has tried to reason with you time and time again. And yet nothing seems to break this stubborn streak you’ve developed.” William shook his head and sighed. “It’s time to try something new. You’re cut off for a month.”

Thomas’ stomach wrenched and his palms started to sweat. He shook his head.

William stood, and Thomas took a step back, pressing himself against the door.

Pointing a finger at his son, William said, “For the next month, you will not step foot inside this house, and you will not step foot inside the mill. You leave here right now with the clothes on your back, whatever money is on your person, and nothing else.”

Ready to beg for that whipping, Thomas said, “Father, please, I—”

“No!” William walked around the desk and advanced on his son. When they were inches apart, William grabbed a fistful of Thomas’ shirt and pulled him even closer. “When the month is over, don’t bother coming home unless you’re ready to straighten up and start acting like the decent, hard-working man we raised you to be.” William let go with a small push and ground out the words, “Get out.”

Acting on instinct, Thomas turned, yanked the door open, and fled. He ran through the house, out the front door, down the walkway, and past the stables. He didn’t slow down until he was halfway to town and gasping for breath.

Chapter Two

By the time Thomas made it to town, he’d calmed down enough to start thinking rationally about his situation. He cursed himself for not thinking to grab his jacket before running out of the house, but it was August, so he wouldn’t freeze even in the dead of night. After checking all his pockets, he realized he would have to find some method of employment before the month was up. He had one half eagle left and two silver dollars. Enough for room and board for two weeks at the Forest Inn, and that would give him time to find work.

After paying in advance for his room at the inn, and eating a cold leftover biscuit for breakfast, Thomas spent the majority of the day walking from building to building and inquiring about work. The responses he received ranged from laughter to pity, but not one of the townsfolk offered him a job because they were afraid of his father. The low point of his day came late in the afternoon. After the humiliation of being rejected time and time again, he went to the old seamstress who made all of his mother’s dresses and asked her for employment. She didn’t even try to hide her pity and opened her coin purse to give him “a little something to tide him over.” He curtly excused himself and walked out before she could pull any money out.

He stormed back to the Forest Inn and paced the floor of his room while thinking.

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