Heat pricked the back of his eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, lifting his shoulders and allowing the sadness to show.
Barley’s protuberant crystal blue eyes were hooded with sympathy. “Is Cockburn...?”
God, he could spit. “Gone? Yes. And good riddance. I was bored out of my mind having to entertain him.” Ainsley caught Helle’s attention and held up his fingers for two more. Helle started, and Ainsley realized he held his fingers backward and appeared to be flipping the barkeep the bird. He twisted his wrist and blew the too-pretty publican a kiss. Helle winked and nodded.
“Did you...blow a kiss to Manish?” The sod taking away Barley’s attention dropped his voice to a near whisper.
“Who?” Ainsley’s head began to spin. He ought to have finished the damn beans, because his stomach was hollow with hunger.
“The man who lives with Hugh,” said Barley, a frown deepening between his thick, black brows.
Hugh. Hugh. Hugh. He wouldn’t forget again.
Ainsley lifted his chin and glared at Hugh. “I did not.”
The man sighed and gave a watery half smile.
Helle came around the bar and deposited two ales in front of Ainsley, stroking his soft hand over Ainsley’s cheek. “Here you go, handsome.”
“That man just called you handsome.” Hugh’s mouth pinched like he’d licked a lemon.
“Are you calling me ugly?” challenged Ainsley.
Hugh made some noncommittal noise that sounded like nnngghhh and blazed scarlet.
Barley squirmed in his seat and looked anywhere but at Ainsley. Hugh stared at his pint glass with studiousness.
What rubbish this was.
“Hugh.” Ha-ha! “Have you not noticed this pub is full of nothing but men?”
The man made a prim face. “Women aren’t allowed in pubs in Scotland, Dr. Graham.”
That made Ainsley blink. “Aren’t they?” That was unfair, and if it were true, Trixie would have sounded some protest. But come to think of it, they never had gone to a pub together, had they? Dance halls and restaurants where one could get an ale but—
Ainsley waved his hand as if Hugh’s protestation was immaterial. “All right, I give you your point, but do most of the taverns you frequent host men blatantly making sheep’s eyes at other men, Hugh?”
Barley winced.
Hugh’s eyes widened like they might pop out of his head, and he looked about the pub as though seeing it for the first time. His voice was a harsh whisper that didn’t mask his outrage. “But sodomy is illegal.” He crumpled when he faced Barley, who appeared to be on the verge of tears. “You brought me to an establishment where I might be arrested? I’m an advocate of the law.”
His dramatics were annoyingly hysterical. “Only arrested if a policeman decided to raid the place and you were caught with your tongue down another man’s throat. Did we ever discover if that’s the sort of thing you fantasize about, Hugh?” Now that Ainsley remembered the bloody name, he’d use it at every possible opportunity.
Standing on shaking legs, Hugh gave an anguished look to Barley, whose unnaturally pale skin was now paper-white. “I believed we were friends, Alec.” He pushed at Ainsley’s arm so he could flee from the booth.
“Oh, Ainsley, what have you done?” Barley’s horror froze Ainsley all over.
Hugh whispered into the ear of his Gentleman Boarder and that man’s mouth dropped at the sight of the slight Swedish barkeep twirling his platinum hair around his finger in a provocative way. He stumbled from his stool and followed fucking Hugh to the door, both of their heads down, like the demons from Hell were on their heels.
“I can’t forgive you for this, Ainsley. You’ve broken my heart, do you ken?” Barley wiped two fat tears off his cheeks and scurried out the door calling Hugh’s name.
Ainsley had not believed that his day could get worse, but not only had he been abandoned by the man he might have loved, he’d destroyed his only true friendship.
This was much worse than Eddie Merson and his bloody teeth. Or the flea things.
He wouldn’t even deign to think of that traitor Campbell.
Even Charlie hated him too much to allow Ainsley to catch up in the woods.
It was almost as horrid as 1917.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Joachim
Sleeping on stone tiles—even reasonably heated by the dimmed fire—wasn’t the most comfortable place to rest. But Joachim’s body didn’t ache half as much as his heart.
He cleaned himself as well as he could in the WC and thanked the proprietor for allowing him use of the pub floor and made his way out to the front wall to wait for Poppy to retrieve him.
The day was brilliant with sunshine, as it had been the day he’d arrived in the bloody country. A scarlet-red Triumph Super 7 raced around the corner, honking for pedestrians to jump out of the way. It roared past Joachim and then screeched to a halt before tearing back in reverse.
Poppy wound down her window and poked her head out with a huge grin. “Joachim, darling, there you are!”
She was alone in the automobile, which was unsurprising as it was a two-seater. But he’d have given a year of his life to have seen his ginger along for the ride.
“Trix packed your belongings and I stopped by for them this morning. She sends her regards.” Poppy gave him a sympathetic look, which made his belly curdle.
“I apologize for being such a bother. I’m fine if you wish to drop me off at the nearest bus station.” Joachim half hoped she’d take him up on it. Three hours in the Triumph pretending his insides hadn’t been ripped out was a lot to handle.
“Don’t be absurd, Cocky.” She popped the clutch and zoomed back onto the street without looking in the mirrors.
He clung to the safety strap.
“I’ve dolled myself up to make a final play for Stuart, and this is the excuse I needed.” She cut her eyes at him and batted.
Imagining her and Stuart sharing activities was nearly as difficult as visualizing Stuart spending time with his unruly siblings.
Joachim was unable to hold back the single thought he dwelled on. “Did...did Ainsley give any message for me?” He didn’t expect an apology for being left behind, but it would go a long way to soothing Joachim’s jangled nerves.
His pretty driver squeezed his hand. “Poor Cocky. The little beast didn’t even come home last night.” She sniffed in what was meant to be anger, but came out more like a kitten’s growl. “We assume he went to find himself a man in Edinburgh. It’s what he always does when he’s feeling fierce.”
The blighter.
“Put Ainsley out of your heart, dearest. He’s not worth it. He’s never recognized anyone’s feelings but his own, and a man like you deserves much more than the likes of him.”
Despair flared, but he resolved to tamp it out. He meant nothing to Ainsley. Nothing at all. To change the subject, he questioned her about Stuart.
For the next two hours, Poppy chattered about her years-long affection for Dr. Stuart Graham, who sounded rather terrified of Poppy’s obvious adoration. But he didn’t pay much attention because the drone of the car and the blur of the scenery, with Poppy’s chirpy babble in the background, put him fast asleep.
Sometime later, a gentle nudge on his shoulder woke him. They sped past the front of the university where Joachim had spent the past years, head down, steadfastly working toward his goal. Where he belonged.
“I can’t say I know where Stuart actually lives, Cocky. Can you direct me? And would you mind coming along? I don’t know what I’ll do if he turns me out without the chance to throw myself at him.” Poppy’s quiet determination was too sincere to tease her over, and he nodded, though he’d much rather get back to his own home and begin working on his paper.
They cut through the side streets until they came upon Stua
rt’s modest row house on the outskirts of the city proper. It was hard to reconcile Stuart’s home with the grandeur of the Queen Street house and Rosethorne.
Poppy must’ve read his thoughts because she explained, “All the money belonged to Ainsley and Trixie’s mother, Maisie. Her mother was a music hall singer, and her father was some old rich man who was already married. But he left her a substantial sum when he died. Maisie inherited the lot of it, and my parents told me it was a massive scandal when Robert Graham married her.”
Robert Graham, the curmudgeonly ghost who Ainsley didn’t know hung about Rosethorne.
“Were Maisie and Robert happy together?”
Poppy’s eyes clouded. “Before Charlie and Hector died, they were utterly devoted to one another, but Maisie encouraged Charlie to sign up. Was on his side though Mr. Graham argued against it. When Charlie died too, Robert couldn’t forgive her. And then the scandal with Trixie and her Freddy, and Ainsley’s manic behavior got worse. When Maisie died, it quite threw him over the edge and he drank himself to death.”
Bloody hell, no one accused Joachim Cockburn of overt sentimentality, but it seemed like too much tragedy for someone as sensitive as Ainsley to have borne without losing his mind a little.
But he wasn’t a lunatic. Or delusional. Just free-spirited and not always in control of those emotions of his. His brain was fine. Just moved faster than most, and that was a good thing.
Beckoning for him to follow, Poppy pranced up the steps to knock on Stuart’s door. As he was a few steps behind, his old friend didn’t notice Joachim right away, but the exuberant pleasure on the man’s face glowed when he saw his surprise visitor. The older Dr. Graham looked as though he might not let go of Poppy’s hand.
“Stuart, darling, I’ve brought Mr. Cockburn back from his adventure and hoped that I’d get the chance to see you.” Poppy nearly swooned into Stuart’s arms.
“Cockburn, you’re back.” Stuart dragged his eyes and hand from Poppy and cleared his throat. His skin scorched. Now that Joachim had met Ainsley and Trixie, and in a way, was introduced to Charlie, the resemblance was clearer. Only it was as though Stuart’s looks were viewed through filmy glass. Until he gazed back at Poppy and his entire being quivered with a sort of electricity leaving him nearly as handsome as his siblings.
“Can I take the two of you to lunch?” Joachim owed them both, after all.
“Marvelous, let me just...er...change my jacket,” said Stuart who invited them into the dark hallway of his home. Poppy’s keen eye ran over her surroundings and she murmured about it needing a woman’s touch.
An hour later, the three were tucked into a raspberry trifle after eating lunch. Joachim hadn’t much to say, but preferred listening to the two reminisce about old friends and their lives before the war.
But Stuart remembered his manners and asked about how Joachim had got on with Ainsley. He did his best to remain nonchalant and outlined the places he and Ainsley had gone to look for ghosts.
Nothing was said about their nocturnal adventures.
“Ainsley took you down into the close?” Stuart’s eyebrows flew up. “Heavens, I’d never have thought he’d go back down there again after what happened.”
Joachim fought to breathe. His concern when Ainsley had fainted. “What happened?”
Stuart crossed his legs under the table, obviously trying to decide what to confide. He exhaled deeply. “Maisie, my stepmother, you know? She forever chattered on about ghosts and fairy tales, and my two youngest brothers decided to conduct their own research. That close was said to be haunted, and... I’m only going by what Trixie knew to tell me, you see? I wasn’t there. But they dared each other to spend the night down in the close. If either was too scared to stay, he would then have to do some other act they were terrified of. Ainsley was able to stay down there for the night, and Charlie signed up the following day. Neither my father nor Maisie knew about the bet until Charlie died and Ainsley insisted that he’d murdered our brother. It destroyed all of them, to be frank.”
A flurry of memories swept through his mind’s eye.
Ainsley fainting in the close.
Ainsley sitting outside Charlie’s room, unable to hear that his closest brother didn’t blame him.
Ainsley racing after Charlie’s ghost yesterday in the woods.
All of it because he’d been so consumed with guilt. And then he saw Charlie after hearing Joachim was going to pretend to the world that he hadn’t seen ghosts because it was convenient. Joachim wiped his mouth with his napkin and half stood. He might be sick.
“You ought to have seen Cocky soothe Ainsley’s mind, Stuart, you’d have been so impressed. Trixie said she hadn’t seen him so relaxed and happy since before all that happened.”
“I had a feeling that all your work on delusions would benefit the poor chap. He’s been such a mess since he gave that lecture.” Stuart studied Joachim’s face. “You’re exactly the sort of fellow he needs in his life to steady him.” He tilted his head slightly to one side. “I’d hoped it might turn into a more permanent...er...friendship. Quite like yours with Rhys during the war.”
Bloody hell. Stuart knew about his proclivities. Had always known and didn’t care. Joachim tried to laugh it off, but his mind still raced. “I bored Ainsley to tears. But I got the research I was looking for, and that’s all that matters.”
Poppy slipped away to powder her nose and Stuart’s attention followed her with an expression of longing.
“She adores you, you know?” Joachim couldn’t bear to see those two dodge the elephant in the room—it sounded as though Stuart had been ignoring it for half his life.
Slate-gray eyes that were too much like Ainsley’s for Joachim to look at without a flush of sadness studied him. “You’re imagining things, Cockburn. A beautiful woman like that has no thoughts for a dull scholar like me.”
Joachim blinked, and some sort of truth nearly within his grasp buzzed in the back of his mind. It was obvious to anyone with eyes to see that Poppy was in love with Stuart.
“She’s waited for you to admit it since before the war, my good man. I know I’m overstepping, but it’s clear that you feel the same about her.”
“But I’m nothing compared to a goddess like her, Cockburn. She’d laugh if I told her how I feel.”
The subconscious thoughts at the back of his mind became more coherent. Like his feelings for Ainsley, and his terror that he’d be laughed out of the room if he admitted them.
Before he could reply, Poppy reappeared with a non-shiny nose and a fresh spritz of eau de parfum. “Stuart, I’ve come to a decision. I’m staying through the weekend. At your place.”
Stuart went as red as a phone box and stammered something about propriety and scandal.
Poppy giggled and rolled her eyes. “Then you’ll have to marry me, darling. Now that that’s settled, I could use a whiskey. How about you?”
Joachim gave her a wink, though she didn’t notice because Poppy’s arms wound around Stuart Graham’s neck, where she gave him a very loud kiss.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ainsley
“Stop scratching, Ainsley. You’ll not have any skin left. I’ve bought some lovely cream at Jenners. Would you care to borrow it?” Trixie gently circled his wrists and gave him a look of unfamiliar sympathy.
He yanked his arms away and got up to pace the room, desperate to release the spiking mania raging inside. It hadn’t abated a whit for two weeks. Kept strengthening to the point that it would soon make his heart stop ticking and he’d be the new ghost haunting Rosethorne.
“I’m worried about you, you know?” Trixie paced next to him, which didn’t help. “Have you considered going to a doctor to see if there’s something—”
He roared. “No. I don’t wish to be locked up, do I?”
Oh, he could weep.
He was m
ad and miserable and hated Joachim Cockburn with every breath.
“Talk to me, please. I’m becoming frightened.” Trixie’s poky fingers wrapped around his neck.
I can’t fucking breathe—
Sharp sharp sharp breaths without getting any air into his lungs, and Trixie’s voice faded in and out until a crack against his cheek made him blink, and he started as though waking up.
She shoved a brandy into his hand and guided it to his lips.
“Not to get drunk, darling, but you need to come back. I can’t live in this house of ghosts all by myself.” His sister’s voice wobbled like she bloody gave a toss that Ainsley’s life had unraveled so completely.
A long sniff. A nod. The heat trickled down his throat to his stomach, where it burst into fire. But it was something that he could feel, and it made it easier to inhale and exhale regularly.
He sat, the tension dissipating a wee bit.
Trixie curled up on the sofa next to him, close but not touching. She trembled and gave him a weak smile. “You must regain some control, Ainsley. You can’t allow yourself to disappear God-knows-where.”
Ainsley nodded. Took another sip. “Yes.”
She curled a piece of his hair around her finger. “This needs a trim. You’re looking perfectly boorish, and that won’t do at all because we’re taking you out dancing tonight to celebrate Poppy’s engagement.”
Poppy’s what?
“Heavens, you haven’t listened to anything I’ve said in weeks, darling. Poppy’s bullied poor Stuart into marrying her in June. I told her she couldn’t get it all taken care of in four weeks, but she’s a determined woman. Scared Stuart will back out, no doubt. But it will do you good to get out and see your friends.”
He forgot he had a lowball glass in his hand and thumped it to his forehead. “I’ve not got any friends but you, Trix. I’ve mangled everything.” He hated that it was a whine, but he couldn’t take it back.
Trixie leaned back, giving him more space. “You have. I can’t lie. But I’ve invited Barley and his milksop, and that gorgeous Manish Kapoor, and they’ve all agreed.”
Best Laid Plaids (Kilty Pleasures) Page 25
