Hello, and welcome to another chapter! I hope this all makes sense
Happy 5 year anniversary! I love you all so much!!
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Minutes ticked away on the grandfather clock, falling into nothingness. Unlike Bard, the minutes were never to return, the clock hands continuing without them. Ready to tick away their replacements.
The moon, she watched with her unblinking eye.
Minutes were short and long, no one in the house could judge.
The Thames tossed and turned.
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An hour passed this way, the only sound in the house being Bard and Finnian's snoring. The cat remained where they were, nose tucked into their fluffy back leg. Their chest rose and fell evenly, whiskers twitching as they dreamed.
Finnian was still sound asleep, thumb resting in his mouth. Bard's presence calmed him.
The chef was still asleep, eyes twitching under his eyelids as he dreamt. His chest rose and fell, occasionally stuttering.
The grandfather clock struck one, filling the silence with a melodic chime.
One of Bard's eyes opened, and he groaned, letting it close. 1 .A.M. in the morning. One hour of sleep... Bard rubbed his eyes, letting out another groan. While it was better than nothing, he was still exhausted. And now sore.
He flexed his toes in his work boots, feeling them pop again. A solid pop resulted from his big toe, and he grimaced. Looking around for his rifle, he remembered he had left it by the front door. A lot of help that would do against an intruder; one servant missing, three asleep, and one without his usual method of protection.
And he had left his rifle loaded by the door.
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Not like he was completely defenseless.
He had his body and mind. His time spent in the war had turned him into a machine. Underneath his clothing, he was all muscle. Came as a surprise, Finnian even found him comfortable to lay on.
All of this came as an even bigger surprise. The glitz and glamour. The camaraderie. No more sleeping with the smell of sulfur in his nose.
Here, people called him Baldroy.
Bard took in a deep breath, breathing the ambient smell of the manor into his lungs. Cleaner mixed with ever - present soot, and the smell of candles. A faint scent of dinner. He reluctantly let the breath out.
He sniffed his own shoulder, finding the same smell on his uniform. That, and cigarette smoke. Even after airing the place out, the smoke would only leave after a wash.
He turned his head away, and yawned.
He'd ask Meyrin later in the morning.
As for defending himself without waking Finnian, that was a matter he had yet to figure out.
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My Mistake - My Mistake trilogy part 1
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