The Garden's End (MLM)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

"Pip," he said, and Pip's heart did that irritating fluttering thing it usually did whenever Lord Westcott said his name. "I don't care that you and Oliver are together. Didn't he tell you?"

"I—er . . ." he shook his head. "I haven't spoken to him yet."

Lord Westcott said nothing a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. "Do you want to? You can go now, there's still another hour until noon comes."

Pip clenched his jaw. He shook his head. "I wouldn't know what to say, to be honest. I . . ." I really thought he would choose me, he almost said, but refrained. This was a conversation to be had with Oliver, and if he was being very truthful with himself, he didn't completely believe those words either.

Too late, he realized tears were falling. He quickly wiped them away and glanced at Lord Westcott who was staring straight ahead at the naked tree branches. Pip's heart was racing. Perhaps Lord Westcott hadn't noticed?

They sat in silence a while. Pip was tearing at the grass between them, sniffling every now and then.

"Does anyone else know?" he asked quietly.

Lord Westcott shook his head. "Do you want anyone else to know?"

Pip considered that, and slid down against the wall, his neck turned at an agitating angle against the wall.

"Don't do that," said Lord Westcott, slapping his shoulder. "Get up."

"Leave me to die here," grumbled Pip.

"That doesn't sound like the energetic little pest that I know and barely tolerate."

"You kiss people you barely tolerate now?" he thoughtlessly said, then sat up, eyes wide. Lord Westcott had looked away. "I—I didn't mean that! I didn't mean to imply that—"

"That I kissed you?" he said. "You can't imply it if I did do it."

Pip fell silent. His cheeks burned. So Lord Westcott wasn't denying it? But what did it mean? Why had he held Pip so tightly last night? Why had Pip embraced him just as tightly back? What had he been thinking? Why had the Lord Westcott been so worried for him as he'd not appeared to worry for anyone before?

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he rolled his eyes. "It was a sibling kiss, no different than anything I would've given Oliver."

Pip's heart took its time calming down. "Oh."

"Problem?"

"No!" he said at once. "Good. That's good." Slowly, he lay back down on the ground, staring at the far trees as he replayed the kiss to his forehead over and over, the memory now unwilling to leave him at all.

"For God's sake," sighed Lord Westcott. "Would you stop lying down like that? It's not good for you."

"I don't care," he mumbled, hugging himself to keep from touching Lord Westcott. "Leave me here, it's not as though I'm forcing you down with me."

A pause. "Now listen here, you irritant—"

Pip laughed despite himself, but it fell short as they heard voices coming out to the gardens. He raised himself up enough to look over the flowerbed.

He gasped as two women came running out, one giggling far louder than the other. It was Miss Bradley, pulling Miss Westcott along behind her.