Mary and the Marquis. Janice Preston

Had he really convinced himself no one in this world could be trusted? That every person beyond the boundaries of the Hall was blighted by the same immoral bankruptcy as his erstwhile London intimates? Could he now put the past behind him and rebuild old friendships?

      Robert approached the bed, a quizzical smile on his lips, and grasped Lucas’s hand.

      ‘It is a pleasure to hear you say that, Lucas. After all, you have not been the most attentive friend and neighbour since your return from the metropolis.’

      ‘Touché, my friend. As direct and to the point as ever, I see.’

      ‘I have determined to make the most of your current weakened state, old chap, for I am persuaded that, once you are on your feet again, you will revert to that evasive fellow I have been trying to pin down these past two years.’

      Guilt washed over Lucas at his treatment of his old friend. ‘I fear I would have provided very poor company in those years.’

      ‘That would make no difference to a true friend, Lucas. What happened in London to make you shun all company bar that of your mama?’

      Despite himself, Lucas laughed. ‘Goodness, man, you never hesitate to walk where others fear to tread, do you?’

      Robert shrugged. ‘You might bite my head off for asking difficult questions, but at least you are incapable of knocking my head from my shoulders at such presumption.’

      He stood smiling down at Lucas for a moment, then turned away and placed his bag on the table at the foot of the bed. He removed his coat, then approached the bed, rolling his shirtsleeves to his elbows.

      ‘Whilst you are deciding how little you can reveal in order to satisfy my curiosity, let us dispense with the tedious medical side of this visit,’ he suggested. ‘Then we can have a proper catch-up of all our respective news. For I, too, have led a full and active life since we were last confidants. You may therefore rest assured that my side of the conversation will not be confined to inane responses to your titbits...’ His voice rose an octave, mimicking the tone of a gossiping woman. ‘“Did you really, Lucas?” “And what did you say then, Lucas?” “Goodness, whoever would have believed it?”’

      They both laughed, then Robert sobered.

      ‘No problem becomes easier by keeping it to oneself, Lucas. You would do well to remember that.’

      ‘Who says I have a problem?’

      ‘That is your pride talking, my friend.’ Rob eased Lucas forward in the bed, helped him to take off his nightshirt and removed the bandage from his shoulder. ‘It is no secret your father did not leave the Hall in the best of financial situations. Sir Gerald has made certain of that, gabble-mongering about his expectations, both in the village and all around the district.’

      ‘Expectations?’

      ‘The terms of his loan to your father are no secret. He is convinced he will be in possession of that land of yours next to Dunwick by the end of the year.’

      Lucas clenched his teeth, both against the stab of pain as Rob manipulated his shoulder and at the mention of Sir Gerald Quartly, a local landowner and mine owner who lived on the far side of the village at Dunwick Manor. The loan had been secured against the Hall’s best pasture and arable land, and the next payment was due on the Quarter Day: Michaelmas, the twenty-ninth of September. Barely three weeks away.

      Dread snatched at his insides, twisting his stomach into knots. Unless he obtained a good price for his livestock at Hexham market he would default on the loan and the estate would lose its most productive land. Thank goodness he had been in the right place to stop the theft of his sheep.

      ‘That seems fine, all healing very nicely,’ Robert said, rupturing the silence that had greeted his comment about Sir Gerald. ‘You have a good range of movement in the joint, which is a positive sign. Now, let me examine that thigh.’