The Garden's End (MLM)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

                "Well?" said Lord Westcott as he slowly approached Pip. "Do you have an answer for me?"

His tone indicated indifference, his eyes studying the small opening beside the stream as though trying to reacquaint himself with it.

"Goodness, I really don't come back here often enough," muttered Lord Westcott and came to a stop before Pip. He offered a hand. "Get up, you look silly."

Before Pip could think to refuse, his hand was already reaching for Lord Westcott's. Lord Westcott's fingers curled around his, slightly rough and warm, and he pulled Pip to his feet in one tug.

Pip gasped at the strength, and he looked up to find himself standing chest-to-chest with the young lord. This close, Pip could properly see the green of his eyes and smell the faint fragrance of roses along his neck and clothes. It made Pip dizzy.

"Thank you," he murmured, and stepped back. Lord Westcott, however, would not release his hand.

"You have yet to tell me, Pip," he said. "What was it you didn't mean?"

"I . . ." Pip couldn't think straight with Lord Westcott's thumb brushing the back of his hand. He shut his eyes. He couldn't tell the truth, it could be misinterpreted so easily. For surely, Pip simply couldn't have meant to say it.

"I—I told Oliver that I thought you were rude," Pip blurted without thinking. "And I don't think I meant it."

Lord Westcott's brow rose dubiously. He clearly didn't believe Pip. "All that muttering and worrying because of that?"

Pip huffed, extricating his hand. "I overthink everything, I don't know!"

"Yes, you certainly do."

"Oughtn't you be with your guests?" he snapped. "Why are you here?"

Lord Westcott crossed his arms and leaned against the nearest tree. "Did you forget, Pip, that I am your master and the owner of these grounds? I am allowed to wander them as I wish, believe it or not."

"You followed me," said Pip, his heart still racing. He turned away from Lord Westcott, towards the calm running of the water, and put a hand on his chest. He felt as though his skin were crawling, and it made him want to hide away. Could Lord Westcott have come because he was concerned for him?

Lord Westcott scoffed, as though he could hear Pip's thoughts. "Only to scold you," he said. "You cannot dismiss yourself, Pip, especially not in the presence of guests. There is a decorum to set, you know."

Pip faltered. He felt hot shame rise in his stomach, making him ill and burning his cheeks. He turned to face Lord Westcott and found the master staring at the stream instead of Pip. He looked proper agitated.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, looking at the ground. "Please forgive me, my lord."

"And now you're apologizing," he said with a nod. "What on earth is the matter with you?" he demanded, and Pip was startled to hear real anger in his voice. "Why are you acting so . . . so . . . different?"

"My lord?"

"The Pip I know would argue with me," he said. "He would say that decorum in the presence of such guests, guests who so easily objectify and dismiss my siblings, mind you, are not guests worth considering at all."

Pip's eyes were wide. "And do you expect me to care for your siblings when you won't?"

"Of course I care!" he protested. "But that's not the problem—"