“Damn it all James – if I wanted to be fucking placated I would not have sent my wife to manage meaningless errands! Unless you wish to join her the next time I have to deal with this I strongly suggest you make yourself useful. I’ve enough on my plate as it is without you two fluttering about insisting that I calm down. Do you seriously think that is in any way a productive method of managing me?”
Even as he snapped, Thomas knew he wasn’t angry with James. Christ, this was why he sent Miranda off the moment he saw the fucking crest on these damnable missives. Why he had thought for a moment he could contain himself better with his lover than he did his wife, he could not fathom. If anything this was far worse – Miranda, at least, was used to the tempestuous nature of Hamilton tempers, but James –
Closing his eyes, Thomas gripped the back of the sofa viciously, leaning into it as he bowed his head – displaying defeat, and surrender in the other man’s direction if for no other reason than to assure James that all temper aside, his rage was not, in fact, directed at him.
“Forgive me,” The words seemed to sigh from him, and he glanced up grimly to meet the other’s gaze. “I am in no proper space to be good company to anyone, it would seem. That was ill done of me – and for the sake of ensuring it does not repeat itself, I would like for you to go. Miranda should be —- somewhere down in the market, I can’t recall what I asked her to do, and chances are she’s wandered off to do her own thing anyway. If you catch her perhaps the two of you can do something.”
Straightening, he resisted the urge to rake his hand back and drag the wig from his scalp, just for distraction and the need to feel something other than the itch of powder. “If you do not see her – please, can you call on her tomorrow for me? I – believe it best if I take my leave of the house for a few days.”
Ocean Archive 