The Garden's End (MLM)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, crossing his arms on the back of the chair opposite them. "Isolde and Helen can be very loud when they want to be."

At Lord Westcott's raised brow, Oliver scoffed. "Pace yourself, brother, they were up all night talking, is what I meant. They only just left me for some peace and quiet."

He looked to Pip. "You've returned early though. What were you doing in the gardens?"

Pip clenched his jaw, but didn't answer.

Oliver held his gaze. "Robbie," he said. "Mind if I borrow your servant a moment?"

Lord Westcott glanced at him. Pip just slightly shook his head, and he knew Lord Westcott had seen it. Regardless, he stood with a sigh.

"Go ahead," he said, avoiding Pip's eyes. "When you're finished here, Pip, return these documents to my chambers. I have to go find Isolde about our guest, at any rate."

"Wonderful," said Oliver. "I can hardly wait for the pampered princess to come tell us all about her precious diamond collection. And Lady Hewitt will be a pleasure as well."

Again, Pip noticed Lord Westcott's lips twitch in an effort to hide his smile. Pip wished he could follow him.

Instead, he left on his own, and Pip and Oliver were alone in the drawing room. Oliver's smirk fell at once and he straightened. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure there was no one else who would see them.

Pip should've been angered by this. So why was it that all he felt was weary? He was tired of having his hopes dashed, of being only happy to see Oliver while Oliver was so frightened of being found out, of the secrets and the lies that proved, every day, how much less important Pip was to this man.

"He's calling you 'Pip' now?" said Oliver mildly. "I thought you'd forbidden him."

Pip kept his eyes on the fireplace. "I don't think you're starting this conversation correctly, Oliver."

"I know you're upset with me," said Oliver, and when Pip didn't answer, his face fell. "But I can explain."

Pip shook his head. His voice was resigned to his own ears. "Oliver—"

Oliver closed the distance between them, clinging to Pip's arms as though afraid he would be shoved back. He was afraid.

"I've missed you," he said, almost desperate. "Haven't you missed me?"

Pip huffed a miserable chuckle. "You only touch me when you're afraid," he said. "Could you want me for nothing else?"

Oliver looked pained. "I knew Andrew would never do anything to harm you," he said. "I knew you would be safe. That was the only reason I hadn't come to save you myself."

"Safe?" breathed Pip, finally meeting his gaze. "I was silently suffering for days. My conscience was weighing me down like the world was on my shoulders, I kept looking into corridors and listening for any sign that I had exposed you. I was hiding from Jane and ashamed to look at Miss Westcott and begging Lord Westcott for reassurance. I wasn't safe, Oliver!"

His eyes burned. He whispered a curse and wiped his face furiously. When he looked up, Oliver was staring at him with horrified eyes, as though he couldn't believe the damage he'd done. He gripped Pip tighter.

"I was beside myself with rage and—and fear," Oliver defended. "You saw me! You saw what I was like when I thought you didn't want me!"