The Garden's End (MLM)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

Pip did not answer.

"Pip?" he tilted his head. "Aren't you going to tell me what you thought?"

Pip's cheeks turned a darling shade of red, making Robert's heart beat heavily in his chest, but then Pip's expression turned outraged for just a moment before he visibly forced it down.

When he spoke, his voice was calm. "Good morning, my lord."

Robert hummed, regarding Pip with narrowed eyes, and Pip cast him a glare before looking away.

"Are you all right?"

"Perfectly."

"Then what's wrong with you?"

"You're the one who spent the night in the library," he snapped before seeming to realize who he was speaking to. He added a curt, "My lord," and returned to staring at the wall.

Robert watched him a moment longer. His migraine was returning.

"Are you upset with me for something?"

"What would I have to be upset about, my lord?" he said.

Robert stood, taking the book Pip had given him and tapping the cover. "I don't understand," he said. "Have I done something wrong?"

"What could you have done wrong, my lord?" he said in the same tone.

Robert huffed. "Well, all right, don't tell me," he said edgily. "I've no spirits to humour you today, and I've got plenty enough to concern myself with."

He walked past Pip and out the open door. He kept waiting for Pip to say something about the weather, the morning, Robert's agitation, but he said nothing. He remained behind Lord Westcott.

An hour later, his gaze only softened when Oliver walked into the dining room. Robert's eye twitched and he rubbed it. Damned migraine, he thought.

Oliver did not seem to be as soft towards Pip. "I want to speak to you," he said at once, foregoing the greeting to his brother who he seemed to be avidly ignoring as well.

Robert glanced at Pip. He did not seem surprised at Oliver's anger. And Robert knew it was foolish, but he wanted to refuse. He wanted to command that Pip stay at his side, but there was no need for it. Lord and Lady Hewitt entered the dining room and Oliver glanced once more at Pip before forcing himself into his seat.

"My goodness," said Lord Hewitt with a curl of his lip that seemed permanent. "All those birds, how irritating! You don't find such ruckus in the city, I must say!"

Robert refrained from shutting his eyes against Lord Hewitt's nasally voice. He was a colleague of Robert's father; pleasantries and respect must be maintained.

"Indeed," he said as Lord and Lady Hewitt sat down across from Oliver in Isolde and Helen's usual seats. "Very irritating."

"I wonder, Robert," said Lord Hewitt as a servant set his napkin on his lap and another filled his teacup. "Did you hear from Weston? Will he be joining us today?"

Robert, however, wasn't paying him much attention. Instead, his eyes were on Oliver who was meeting Lady Hewitt's stares with daring eyes. He hardly glanced back at Pip, and saw his own eyes were on the floor.

Robert stared. What was wrong with Oliver? Didn't he realize how much he was hurting Pip? Robert knew he wouldn't do such a thing. The only person he cared to look at was Pip, the only person he cared to listen to was Pip. He wouldn't disrespect Pip as Oliver was doing—