Chapter 26 #2
“I take it that you aren’t going to make it easy on us?” Alistair started as he turned from the fire. He was still wet and still shivering, but he didn’t look nearly as awful as he had when he arrived. “By telling us what you are doing all the way out here?”
“It is nothing exciting,” Christopher said. “I just felt the need to get away.” A beat passed as his friends looked upon him skeptically. “For work.”
“Ah, yes, work,” Theodore said.
“My home has been entirely too busy of late,” Christopher doubled down. “It makes it hard to think. So, I figured a few days in the country was what I needed.” He snorted and had another mouthful of whiskey. “I had no idea it would cause such worry amongst my friends.”
“Who said we were worried?” Theodore said.
“Are you not?”
“Not for you…” Theodore looked at Alistair, who nodded as if in confirmation. “The truth of it is that we visited your estate just yesterday, where we had the pleasure of seeing your dear wife.”
Christopher’s insides squirmed with both guilt and curiosity.
He had tried so hard this past week not to think about his wife and how she might be holding up.
Dammit, he did not want to care! And he wanted nothing more than to hear that she was doing well…
or perhaps he wanted her to be doing poorly?
Proof that this was not nearly as easy for her as it could be.
“Oh?” He tried to act as if he did not care. “And how is she? I suspect that she is thrilled to have the estate to herself for a few days…” He laughed awkwardly. “Give her a break from me.”
“I would not say as much,” Theodore said.
“She is fine,” Alistair made sure to add. “At least she was at pains to make us think that she was. We asked her where you were and why you were not home…”
Christopher braced himself because he had no idea what Rose might say. In time, they would need to tell people that their marriage had ended, but in the rush to leave, they had not discussed the short-term lie they would need to tell.
Then again… do I even care? That is where I am at right now. All this effort to present myself as people expect, to be the perfect lord, and I am sick to death of the lies and the subterfuge. If acting that way for my entire life has led me here, how can I still want or care about such a thing?
“And what did she say?” Christopher asked.
“She said as you have,” Alistair answered him. “That you went to the country for work purposes. Alas, she could not tell us when you would return.”
“I have not given her a date, is why. But I suspect it will be soon.”
“There was one more thing…” Theodore crossed the room so he was standing right in front of Christopher. “And Alistair agreed with me, after we left her. But your wife, she seemed…” He clicked his tongue. “A little unwell.”
Christopher’s stomach dropped. “Unwell? What… what do you mean?”
“She appeared sad,” Alistair said. “Oh yes, she wore a smile the entire time. She laughed at our jokes. She assured us that all was good in this world, but there was something off about her.” Alistair looked at Theodore, who nodded. “In truth, the way she was behaving reminded us of you.”
“Of me? What does that mean?”
“The false presence of charm,” Theodore said. “The words she spoke were the correct ones, but there was something in her eyes that was missing. A spark, so to speak.”
“I…” Christopher shifted nervously. “Perhaps she was just tired.”
“Perhaps,” Theodore agreed. “Likely, she has just spent too much time around you. Poor thing, it is starting to rub off on her.” He laughed and shook his head, only to turn serious suddenly. “Or maybe it is as we feared.”
“Christopher…” Alistair approached Christopher on the couch and then, done carefully so as not to frighten, sat down beside him. “Do you consider us your friends?”
Christopher blinked. “What? Of course I do.”
“Do you trust us?” Theodore sat down on the other side of Christopher.
“What sort of question is that?”
“Then why are you lying to us?” Alistair said. “And not just about your wife and your marriage troubles.”
“There are clearly a trove to choose from,” Theodore added.
“About everything,” Alistair continued. “When I saw your wife, when I looked into her eyes, I knew that she was lying without having to ask. And it made me think about you, how you often act. That…” He clicked his tongue.
“That look you often wear that tells me the story you are giving us is only half the tale.”
“Less than half,” Theodore said. “We are not here to judge. We are not here to pry. And dammit, if you tell us to get up and leave, I suppose we will make our peace with that.”
“But we are your friends,” Alistair said, his voice soft. “And if something is wrong, I hope you know that we, of all people, will help you. We want to help.”
“If you will let us,” Theodore said, his voice just as soft, no longer lacing everything he said with humor because the time for such things had passed.
“I…” Christopher shifted uncomfortably. “I do not know…” He looked between his two friends, unable to hold their eyes because both looked upon him with such raw concern that he feared what they would see if he held their stares for too long.
“You are both thinking far too much into it…” He laughed awkwardly. “You know how I am.”
“Oh, we know it,” Theodore said. “A little too well.”
“What then?” Christopher demanded, forcing anger into his voice now. “You think I have been lying to you? About what exactly? Let me ask you, what sort of friends come to a man’s home and accuse him like this?”
“But this isn’t your home, is it?” Theodore pointed out.
“You know what I mean!” Christopher jumped to his feet and turned on his friends.
“I appreciate the concern. And I appreciate that you both thought you needed to…” He laughed bitterly.
“To help me? But I do not need help! I am fine! Perfectly damn wonderful, is what! Never better and thank you both for asking!” He drank the rest of his whiskey, looked for a place to put the glass, but ended up tossing it against the wall.
The glass shattered, but neither man so much as blinked. They just sat there, looking up at him, not for a second buying what he was telling them.
“I would like you both to leave,” he said. “Now, thank you.”
Neither man made to stand. They simply looked at one another, having another silent conversation, before looking back up at Christopher.
“We will leave,” Alistair said. “But first, I want to hear you say it. Tell us that nothing is the matter. Tell us that we are imagining things. Tell us…” He sighed and shook his head. “Tell us how wrong we are. Do that, friend, and we will leave.”
“Although when we do,” Theodore added. “Be warned, it might be some time until you see us again. Nothing personal, but I can’t stomach liars. Especially when all we are trying to do is help.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Christopher snapped.
“But we are giving it,” Alistair said. “Because we are your friends, and that is what they do. Through thick, through thin, the good and the bad, we are here for you.”
Theodore snorted. “The thanks we get for it…”
There was a time not so long ago when Christopher’s worst fear was that his secret would be found out. He would, on occasions, lie awake at night thinking about it, covered in a cold sweat, terrified that when it did happen, his life would be over.
He feared for his station, that it would be taken from him.
He feared for his livelihood, that he would have nothing left.
And he feared for his friends that they would want nothing to do with him once they learned the truth.
As things stood, with how he was currently feeling, Christopher no longer cared about his station. He could not give a damn about his livelihood. And as for his friends? It was in that moment that he realized how wrong he had been about them this whole time.
I was wrong not to trust them. I was wrong to assume that our friendship could be measured by something so simple as class and status. I was wrong… about damn near everything.
Why was Christopher still hiding? Why did he think that if his secret remained hidden, things would go back to how they were – he did not want them to. Despite the lies he told himself daily, he was not happy with who he used to be. He was not content with the life he had carved for himself.
In fact, the only time that he was ever happy…
A smile reached his face for the first time as he thought about Rose. She had worn him down. She had seen through who he pretended to be, to who he really was. And she had loved him for that version of himself, not the one he pretended to be.
Christoper was sick of the lies. He was sick of pretending. And his two best friends, if they were as good of friends as they claimed, would be sick of it too. They, as much as anyone, deserved the truth. It was time for Christopher to give it.
“You’re right…” The anger left him, his shoulders slumped, and he just about fell to his knees as the strength left him. “About everything.”
“You’ll need to do a little better than that,” Theodore said.
Christopher laughed and shook his head. “I intend to. But first…” He crossed the room and poured himself another drink. After which, he sat back down on the couch between his two friends. He took a long sip, let the drink settle, and then he told them the truth.
“I am not who I say I am,” he started. “At least not in the ways that matter. My father was indeed the Duke of Thornwall, so that much is true…” He scoffed and had another mouthful. “But my mother… she is not who you think.”
“The Duchess?” Alistair asked.
Christopher shook his head. “My true mother was a maid who worked for my aunt. I do not know all the details, mostly because I never wanted to know them. But from the little I have figured out, my father fell in love with her and had himself an affair.”
Theodore snorted. “He would not be the first.”