Dorning Hall now boasts ladies of easy virtue to cheer a fellow past his low moods. I’m sure morale among the male staff has improved noticeably if that’s the case.”
“I’ll continue on to Angelo’s,” Ash said, though he’d probably instead detour to Jackson’s. “You need to spend some time with Monique.” Sycamore had many lady friends, the latest of whom was a baronet’s widow ten years his senior.
“Mone tossed me over,” he said, twirling his umbrella like a baton. “Said I was great good fun for a fling, but too intense to have underfoot regularly. I doubtless wore her out. She’s off at some house party in Cow-turd-shire.”
“Sorry, old boy. I know you liked her.”
“I like them all. I love a good, hard fuck. Settles me down for at least a day.”
Ash was reminded of his discussion with Lady Della, about how a fight settled him down. “Your attempts to shock with bad language would impress, were you still in the nursery. You doubtless bored Monique with your constant importuning. Do you ever think about settling down in truth?”
Sycamore tucked his umbrella under his arm, a cavalry officer striding along with his riding crop.“I think about it all the time,” he said. “To delight in a lusty romp is simply how the Creator made us, and may heaven be thanked for His generosity both to us as a species and to me in my particulars. But to share life with somebody who loves me… That would be… One can hardly fathom the joy.”
“One can hardly fathom the fortitude such a lady would possess.” Ash refrained from harsher teasing, because Sycamore sounded so wistful. “Tell me, Sycamore, do you fancy Della Haddonfield?” The question was mostly idle. Mostly.
Sycamore’s fist plowed into Ash’s arm. Layers of thick wool blunted the blow, though it stung pleasantly nonetheless.
“Do not think to procure a husband for her,” Sycamore said, “as her family has been trying to procure for her. I understand why you are playing the devoted swain, but the better question is why you don’t marry her yourself.”
Ash had toyed with that question in a theoretical, had-he-overlooked-something sort of way. “I won’t marry, and you know why. Lady Della accepts my reasoning.”
“I suspect she would accept your occasional fit of the dismals too.”
“It’s more than a fit of the dismals. You’ve seen me.”
“No, actually, I haven’t. When you are overcome by your malady, you disappear to your room, like a bear in winter. Nobody sees you. Trays go up, trays come down barely touched. Thrash me for saying so, but you seem to just give in to it, as we all give in to cold weather. Nasty and inconvenient, but it passes eventually. That’s the extent to which you combat your malady.”
Ash would have slammed his brother to the walkway, but Sycamore’s lecture came from frustrated worry rather than judgment.
“What would you have me do, Cam?”
“Spend the damned winter in Egypt for a change. Try closeting yourself with those pretty nursemaids I could hire. Employ a madam to thrash you with fresh nettles once a week if that’s what it takes, but don’t just… Don’t lie in a ditch like a fallen soldier hoping the invading army passes before anybody notices he’s still breathing.”
“Waiting for the enemy to march on by has saved many a man from a bullet.”
Sycamore paused on the steps of Angelo’s establishment. “Two years ago, you would have been long since returned to Dorset, the drawbridge up, the portcullis lowered. Last year, you made it through September, and this year, you’re doing at least that well. Why the hell won’t you be encouraged by the obvious? Why the hell must you hoard your misery as if it’s your only valuable possession?”
Sycamore trotted up the steps before continuing. “Della Haddonfield is fierce and smart. She might bring something to the fight you lack, and she would never desert you. Maybe you’ve been going about this all wrong, Ash, and it’s loving company you need rather than a badger’s lair to hide in.”
Ash would have followed him up the steps, but Sycamore stopped him with the tip of the umbrella pressed to his chest.
“Not today,” he said. “I’ll slice you to ribbons if we fence today. Provoke one of Jackson’s Corinthians into pummeling you, but please recall you’re escorting Della to a musicale tomorrow. It won’t do to appear in public with two black eyes, Ash.”
Ash nudged the umbrella sword aside with a single finger. “I will fence with somebody else if