Publishcatus? Problemetes? Rejectionous?
I was in the right place at the wrong time, as they say. Taken on by Running Press and all excited, and then economy dropped through the arse of the world. So last year Perseus only sent a few editors to the normal “jollies” like the London Book fair and the NY Expo thingy – instead of everyone – and I was rather hoping that the gay romance line would cause a bit of notice if they’d gone, but ho hum.
Now this year the London Book Fair has been a damp squib because of a bleeding volcano. Not that I think Perseus were planning to take the new latest gay historicals there, sadly. But really. *shakes fist at Problemetes*
I think the worst reaction to the “travel crisis” was from some of the naval personnel who thought that picking up stranded British passengers was beneath them, and not a proper use of warships. Well, ok then, matey. Next time you lot are stuck on a beach somewhere, then I’ll think twice about whether the proper use of my small boat is chugging across the channel to rescue you. Seems fair.
22. Tell us about one scene between your characters that you’ve never written or told anyone about before! Serious or not.
OK – here you go: Here’s the reason why I can’t cave into pressure and write more of Ambrose and Rafe. DO NOT READ IF YOU JUST WANT EVERYTHING IN THE GARDEN TO REMAIN LOVELY.
Rafe searched through the house, and found Sebastien in the library, taking notes from a tome by Pliny the Elder. “Have you seen Ambrose?” he asked. “Bloody house is too big when that man wants not to be found.”
Sebastien quirked an eyebrow, and Rafe for a moment caught a memory of the boy his son had once been, hidden beneath this studious Oxford undergraduate. “Since as you rightly say, Ambrose wishes not to be found, logic rather indicates that you should not seek him out.”
“Bugger logic,” Rafe growled.
“There you have it,” said Sebastien, primly.
“And bugger you!” Rafe stormed out, slamming the door so hard that the urns in the hall rattled and a maid dropped her duster. “Evans! EVANS!” Rafe bellowed from the centre of the hall, and after a few seconds the butler appeared from the servants’ doorway, hurriedly doing up his tie. “Find Mr Standish, if you please, and ask him if he will join me in the study.”
“Er…” the butler’s composure was so discomposed that Rafe stopped in his anger and glared at him.
“What is it?”
Evans indicated to the post table. “Before leaving for London, sir, Mr Standish left a letter for posting. However it is addressed to you, and to this address sir. I assumed you knew about it.”
Rafe strode to the table and broke the seal on the letter, his heart sinking in his chest. This could only mean one thing, and as he read the first lines written in Ambrose’s elegant, sloping hand, he realised that the worst had happened.
“Rafe, Don’t follow me. I know you will try, despite my assurances that you will not find me. By now I have some experience in finding places that even your resources will fail to penetrate. You will guess that I know about Edward, and I know that he’s no more than a dalliance and I know that your heart belongs to me, but I need some time to consider what I wish for a change, and not to be forever considering how it affects us – or you. This is not goodbye, my dearest, sweetest fool, at least, not yet. I give you that hope which you hardly deserve. But in future what happens will not be because of your actions—but because of mine. – Ambrose.”
Later, Sebastien crept into his room and sat on the bed beside him. “If you’ve come to tell me what a fool I am,” Rafe said, “then don’t.”
“I don’t think I need to do that, papa, do I?”
“I don’t know what to do, Sebastien. I don’t know what to do.”
Sebastien took the letter from Rafe’s hands and smoothed it out. “I won’t say the obvious, papa, because that doesn’t need saying. But next time you make him a promise—you have to keep it. I think that’s the only way he’ll ever come back to you.”© Copyright 2010 Erastes, All rights Reserved. Written For: Erastes