I actually managed to get some writing done.

[maderr]

Little bit more of seconds. Hopefully, after this, only a scene or three left. This story is very slow with the pacing, methinks.



It was stupid to be excited about a simple ride through the park. The Viscount had invited him solely for the purpose or reconciling their young charges.

Anyone who saw them – and a morning ride through the park meant everyone would see – would know it was only because of Henry and Otis.

He still did not know why the Viscount had introduced him to his friends. At least they were not cutting him – but they had been vastly amused by something while the Viscount had looked more than a little annoyed. Had the Viscount not wanted to speak with him?

What had he been thinking, agreeing to this?

"It's a beautiful morning, is it not?" Otis asked, smiling brightly.

"Quite," Haven agreed, hoping his anxiety was not showing. He also wished he had not stayed up until four in the morning working on his translations.

"There they are," Otis aid, sounding far less enthusiastic than he had a moment ago. "Must we spend the morning with them?"

"Yes," Haven replied. "Consider it punishment, if you must."

"Yes, Haven."

Haven chuckled at the put upon expression on Otis' face, then turned to the Viscount as they drew close – and saw from the way his mouth was quirked in amusement, and the look in his eyes when their gazed met, that Henry was being just as petulant. He smiled, and realized he was far too pleased by the moment of silent communication.

"How does the morning find you, my good Earl?"

"Well, if still half asleep. I will never understand this desire people have to see the morning. And how are you fairing? I believe you favor mornings."

The Viscount laughed. "A bit of a night owl, my lord?"

"More than a bit, I fear," Haven replied, wondering if he was making a complete fool of himself. "I believe I climbed in to bed as my servants were waking. They think me stranger than even all of society."

"Oh, mine are equally confounded by me," the Viscount replied. "I think they are offended that I wake up before them."

Haven laughed.

"Our charges are being remarkably silent," the Viscount said in dry amusement, looking between the two silent young men riding just in front of them. He prodded Henry with is riding crop. "You could imitate your seconds, my fine young lads, and hold a civil conversation."

When they only remained stonily silent, Haven shook his head in amusement.

"Well, if they want to spoil a perfectly good morning with sullenness, let them," the Viscount said with a shrug. "I believe the other night you said you were up doing translation? I dare guess that is what kept you up this past night as well? What manner of translations?"

"Various things," Haven replied, trying not to let his discomfort show. "I generally do historical volumes, novels, and poetry, though I do other types of prose on occasion."

"Remarkable," the Viscount replied. "Is this purely a leisure activity, or is this a professional following?"

Haven managed not to wince, but barely. It was, he knew, unseemly for a gentlemen to take up any manner of real occupation. He was not certain how terrible it was to be a professional translator, but he supposed it did not matter now. He'd already foolishly admitted it, so there was nothing for it but to confess the whole and hope the topic of conversation soon shifted. "A professional calling, though not one I initially sought on purpose. However, I do love to read, and it seems a pity to be fluent in five languages and not make real use of the knowledge."

"Five languages!" the Viscount exclaimed. "Extraordinary."

Henry stirred. "Do you really know five languages, my lord?"

"Yes," Haven replied. "The two most common in this part of the world, and the three most often used where I used to live. I grew up in a city that is famous for trade, and it is impossible to get by without knowing at least two, and three is better. Most children grow up learning two or three without even meaning to. Given the, uh, unique nature of my heritage…I was obliged to learn an additional two."

"Incredible," Otis said. "What have you translated, Haven? Anything we might know?"

Haven frowned in thought. "I do not know. The historical works are well known in their respective circles, but obscure otherwise. I translate for two novelists and one poet regularly, and a handful of others less often. I believe the last novel I translated was The Hummingbird and the Sparrow. Does that sound familiar?"

"I know that book!" Henry burst out excitedly. "Bloody everyone knows that book! Gods, my mother and her friends never shut up about it, or the others he writes. I say, do you know when his next one is coming out? If I could tell her that—"

"She'd leave off punishing you for making a scene at the Ford house last night?" the Viscount cut in, smirking.

Henry glared at him. "I was going to say, she'd steam for days that I knew before she did, and it would be right entertaining."

The Viscount grinned, then turned to Haven. "I confess to being a fan of the books myself. I often read in the mornings with a cup of tea, since it's the one thing I can fix by myself without burning the house down or having the cook come after me with violence in her eyes. Do you know the author, by chance, or is it through a liaison that you have come to translate his works?"

Haven smiled. "As it happens…do you remember the story I told you last night? About the dinner party?"

"Yes," the Viscount said, with a smile and a pointed look at Henry and Otis. "I have not entirely abandoned the idea you mentioned."

"The friend from that story is, in fact, the author. He was always a writer, even as a child. When I was in school, studying languages, I often used his drafts to practice my translations. We are still quite close."

"Oh!" Otis said excitedly. "You never mentioned you were great friends with someone so famous."

Haven ran a hand through his hair, feeling suddenly nervous. He had not meant to make such a fuss. "I did not realize he was so famous, honestly. He is back home, of course, but to me he is just a friend." He smiled ruefully. "We grew up together, and saw one another in all manner of scrapes. It is hard to hold a man in awe when you have seen him at his worst and most humiliating."

The Viscount threw his head back and laughed. "That is certainly true. My friends and I have never impressed one another terribly. Too many nights stumbling about in a disgraceful state back to our lodgings, and the agonies of the morning after. Never mind a thousand other things which serve well to ruin any chance at being awed." He laughed again.

Haven turned away, realizing that if he did not, he would stare, and he hated to think what might happen if he were caught staring.

Gods, please don't let him start acting that stupid. It had already been proven impossible to make friends here. He did not need the additional heartache of hoping for more. The Viscount, he must remember, was only doing this so they would not have to continue playing seconds for a host of duels.

"It is simply extraordinary," the Viscount said as his laughter eased. "He is quite famous here, and all this time you are his close friend."

Haven smiled. "I suppose it must seem rather silly."

"Only impressive," the Viscount said, a soft smile curving his mouth. "In my experience, most men – especially those new to society – with such a claim to make would be shouting it into the ears of all and sundry."

"Oh," Haven said, feeling stupid he could think of nothing else to say.

"So when is the next book due out, Haven?" Otis asked eagerly.

"Well, the one which follows Sparrow is in my office this very moment. The last letter I received, he was a quarter through the next, which means by now he must be nearly finished."

"You're translating one?" Henry exclaimed, all but falling off his horse in excitement.

Haven nodded. "Yes, though it is slow going. Another month or so, however, should see it completed."

"Oh, splendid," Henry said. "Can I tell my mother? Would that be permissible, my lord?"

"I do not see why not," Haven replied.

"I shall have to tell my sisters," Otis said. "Just think, I have the translator for the Hummingbird novels for a friend, and he is very close friends with the author!"

Haven shook his head, and looked around for any distraction which may finally turn the conversation.

At least Henry and Otis seemed to be getting along, or at least not arguing. That, he supposed, was worth a few minutes of embarrassment.

"Well, I would say we have about concluded our ride around the park," the Viscount said. "Would the two of your care to join us for breakfast?"

Haven was tempted – so very tempted. As foolish as it no doubt was, he was loathe to give up this semblance of friendship. Another hour or so of pretending sounded as sweet as it did painful. "I wish I could," he forced himself to say, "but I've another translation which must be finished by tomorrow, and I've quite a bit of work left on it. If I put them off another day, the publishers will come for my head."

"Of course," the Viscount said lightly, smiling as though his words had been expected.

He wondered, suddenly, if the Viscount had only offered to be polite, after all, and had hoped he would say no.

Just as well he had, then.

Shoving away bitter disappointment, reminding himself he was only getting what he deserved for letting false hopes rise. "Otis," he said, "have a good day and try to stay out of trouble. Send me word, or come and see me, should you require anything of me. Master Young, I hope the rest of the day finds you well." He hesitated, then summoned as bright a smile as he could manage, hoping he did not look as pathetic as he felt. "Lord Knox, it was a pleasure to spend the morning thus. I almost see why people enjoy them. I thank you for the gracious invitation, and hope the rest of the day finds you well. Gentlemen."

"The very same to you," the Viscount replied, bowing his head and shoulders. "The pleasure was mine."

Nodding, Haven turned away and rode home.