Chapter 20: Of Breathless Attendants and Borrowed Paper

Evander turned just as the sound reached him. While the footsteps were hurried, it was the breathing that brought a faint smile to his face. It was uneven and hurried and slow—poorly concealed.

He shifted his weight slightly, one hand resting idly in the pocket of his coat, and waited patiently.

The figure burst through the low line of reeds at the edge of the hollow and stumbled to a halt several paces away, bent forward, one hand braced against his thigh, the other clutching the lapel of his jacket as though it were the only thing preventing him from collapsing altogether.

Evander watched him with mild interest, his lips twitching.

"My," he drawled lightly, "have you been pursued by highwaymen, or is that merely the consequence of unnecessary enthusiasm?"

The man straightened slowly.

Brown eyes—wide and bright with alarm—fixed themselves on Evander as though he were some particularly troublesome mirage.

"Y–Your Grace," he said at once. "I finally found you."

The words came out on a breath, and he had to swallow before he could continue.

"I have been searching for you everywhere."

Evander’s smile softened.

He could only imagine what that meant to a man who regarded misplaced dukes as catastrophes in waiting.

"You flatter me, Tommy," Evander said pleasantly. "I did not know I was that important."

"You are very important," Tommy replied to him. "And I daresay I would have found you earlier if you hadn’t masked your scent."

Evander smiled at him. "I like the chase," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

The young attendant drew in another breath, attempting to steady himself.

"I truly did not expect to find you here, Your Grace," he said. "Not in this part of the grounds."

His gaze flicked quickly around the hollow, as though confirming that Evander was not, in fact, about to vanish into thin air.

Evander reached out and tapped him lightly on the arm with two fingers.

"Tommy," he said gently, "you always give yourself far too much work. I have told you time without number that if you cannot find me, simply wait until I return."

Tommy scowled at that.

It was a familiar expression—one that came of long practice and very little success in persuading his employer to adopt any reasonable sense of self-preservation.

And the last time Tommy had waited until the Duke returned, the whole of the Blackmere territory had been on edge. Tommy vowed that he would not wait anymore and would simply go after the Duke if he went missing again. Rules be damned.

"Your Grace, I told you the last time that I will not abide by that rule," Tommy told him.

"But if you do, life will be easier for you."

"I highly doubt that, Your Grace. Ever since I started working for you, life has not been easier. I run almost every day," Tommy said to him.

"Aren’t you stronger and healthier as you do?" Evander asked with a chuckle.

Tommy folded his hands and huffed at that. He was not stronger because he was running every day... he was, but he would never admit that to the Duke, especially since the Duke’s disappearances almost always seemed to send Tommy into hypertension.

"The candidates are gathered for breakfast," Tommy said briskly, drawing himself up and regaining at least some of his composure. "All of them."

Evander raised his brows faintly.

"I am deeply impressed by their punctuality."

Tommy did not smile.

"I know very well that you would not wish to dine with the rest of the candidates," he said, his tone edged with restrained reproach. "Which is precisely why I hurried back to your chambers to prepare something suitable for you."

Evander winced almost imperceptibly.

Tommy continued, gathering speed now that his grievance had found a proper outlet.

"But when I returned, you were not there. And when I asked the footman stationed by the west gallery, he said you had already left the wing entirely."

His voice dropped.

"I thought... I feared that something had happened."

Evander sighed softly at that. He never expected this young rogue to be a worrywart, but he was. And he was deeply loyal too.

"Tommy," he said softly, "I am perfectly capable of looking after myself."

Tommy gave him a look that suggested this claim was, at best, an ambitious interpretation of past events.

Then he let out a slow breath through his nose.

"Yes, Your Grace," he said, but he rolled his eyes discreetly.

"I saw what you did," Evander told him.

Tommy gave him a look, his eyes wide with exaggerated shock. "What did I do?"

Evander hit the boy’s head softly with his knuckles. "You are still the disrespectful lad from before."

Tommy rubbed at his head, then pouted at Evander. "That hurts."

He muttered softly, then sighed.

"I will need to inform Mathias and Robin that I have located you," he added. "They were becoming rather concerned."

Evander grimaced.

Ah.

Mathias had a tendency toward silent panic. Robin, on the other hand, favoured dramatic despair. Both were loyal and exhausting in their own particular way. They were the guards who had come with him from the Blackmere territory.

And if he did not show up, both of them would likely turn the palace upside down. Maybe next time, before he found a perfect place to rest, he would write a letter to them—all of them—to appease their worry.

"There is truly no need to alert everyone," Evander said mildly. "I was only attempting to sleep."

Tommy’s head snapped up.

"To sleep?"

"Yes."

"At this hour?"

Evander shrugged.

"I had a headache."

The effect of that single, offhand explanation was immediate.

Tommy’s eyes sharpened at once, sorrow clouding his features.

"Your Grace," he said carefully, "you did not mention feeling unwell when I last saw you."

"That is because I was not feeling unwell when you last saw me."

The attendant’s mouth thinned.

Evander waved one hand lazily in the air.

"It is quite minor," he added. "Truly. Do not look as though I have announced my imminent demise."

Tommy did not look convinced. But he did nod.

"Very well," he said.