Chapter Twenty-One
Anthony found Lark at home, in his study, reading from a stack of letters he’d received in the last week.
Lark motioned for Anthony to sit without looking away from what he was reading.
“You summoned me,” Anthony said, opting not to take a seat. “I am here at your request and yet you leave me waiting.”
Lark held up the letter he’d been reading. “Apologies, but this was interesting. We’ve solved one mystery. Caernarfon has become a father.”
“What?”
“You’ll recall that he was distraught he had not received a letter from his wife in a fortnight and so ran off to Wales to make sure she was still alive.
According to his letter, she’s fine, but gave birth and had a difficult labor from which she needed time to recover, so she was unable to write him.
He seems a little peeved that she did not tell him she was expecting.
But now he has a son with some Welsh name I do not know how to say. Duh-fidd?”
“More like Da-vith, I think. The Welsh form of David.”
“Hmm. Well, anyway, that’s two of my friends who have families now.”
“To be fair, Caernarfon started a family the moment he got married. Once you are responsible for someone other than yourself, you have a family.”
Lark tilted his head. “That is an interesting definition.”
Anthony shrugged and sat in the wingback chair near Lark’s desk.
The truth, though, was that he had given this a lot of thought.
In a way, he was responsible for Lark’s happiness and well-being, which made Lark his family.
They’d never stand in front of a priest and promise to obey each other.
They’d never have children together, nor did Anthony want to raise children.
But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be a family together.
Perhaps, instead of a child, they could acquire a dog. Or five.
“Not that I am not delighted to see you, but your note said it was important. What is happening?”
“You don’t find it odd that Caernarfon’s wife didn’t tell him he had a son? Or that one was on the way?”
“Larkin. You are stalling.”
“Something happened.”
A deep sense of foreboding settled over Anthony. Something about Lark’s face told him it was bad. “What happened?”
“Samuel Gordon.”
Anthony swore.
“It’s good news and bad news,” Lark said. “Gordon approached me a few nights ago. He threatened to expose us.”
Anthony sat forward. “What? How? And where were you?”
“At the club, with Hugh and Fletcher. I got up to use the necessary and he cornered me.”
“What does he think he knows?”
Lark let out a breath. “He thought he knew that you and I were having an affair. He threatened to take it to a scandal sheet if I did not pay him a very large sum of money.”
“Did you pay it?”
“I didn’t have to.”
Anthony tilted his head. “Why? What happened to—”
“He was hit by a carriage yesterday.”
“He…what?”
Lark sighed and set the letter from Owen aside. “Obviously I don’t wish Samuel Gordon ill.”
A lie, Anthony knew. “Obviously.”
“I was prepared to pay him, although I was reluctant to do so because I didn’t think this would make him go away. He would just continue to extort me. But I thought paying him would buy us some time until we could come up with a more permanent solution. But Fate took care of that for me.”
“He was hit by a carriage?”
“Got rip-roaring drunk last night, stumbled into the street, met his end.”
“So he’s dead.”
“Alas, yes. It was in the Times this morning. You didn’t read it?”
Anthony waved his hand. “I didn’t read the paper today.”
“The thing is, I don’t think Gordon was the only one who knew about us.”
“How did he find out? Did he tell you when he confronted you before meeting his untimely end?”
“Not specifically, but he implied he’d seen us somewhere.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down much.”
“Anthony.”
“Around the club?”
“Probably one of the times you pulled me into the coat closet.”
Anthony sighed. It was true, they had not been the most discreet, especially at the club.
They’d fooled around in that coat closet more than once.
If someone had walked in when they’d been too occupied by what they were doing to notice, the information might have gotten out. “Do you think others know?”
“That is why I called you here.”
“You think they do?”
“I don’t honestly know. But if Gordon knew, it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that others do as well.”
Anthony feared where this was going. “Have you heard something?”
“No. But Anthony, the Season is nearly upon us.”
“Yes.”
Lark frowned. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”
“I gathered.”
“The thing is, you promised your mother you’d find a wife by the end of this Season.”
This again. “I did.”
“And I’m sure a year ago, the end of this Season seemed impossibly far away, but here it is, and I just think…”
Anthony’s stomach sank. He knew exactly what Lark was going to say. “Don’t say it.”
“Anthony.”
“I made a promise I never intended to keep to my mother.”
“No. You made a promise you intended to keep but didn’t want to follow through on.
” Lark frowned. “Anthony, I love you, but one of your chief flaws is that you never think things through. You never think long-term. You like instant gratification. Which means you and I have been postponing the inevitable because it feels good and we’re fond of each other.
But you have an obligation to follow through with the promise you made to your mother, no matter how loath you are to do it.
And we are on the verge of getting caught. ”
“You want to end our affair.”
“I don’t want to. I just think it’s the best course of action to secure our futures.
You and I both knew this couldn’t last forever.
It’s bad enough that we’ll have to find wives eventually.
I know you imagined you’d put in a token effort to court a few women and then find all of the young misses of the ton to be wanting.
I know that was your plan. And I know you think that you and I could just keep carrying on forever, as if the Samuel Gordons of the world finding out about us wouldn’t put both of our necks at the wrong end of a noose. ”
“You have no intention of marrying, though.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore. Perhaps my friends settling down has made me more circumspect. Marriage has not been a priority for me, but unlike you, I do find women appealing, and I could do right by a wife, if needed.”
“Yes, but isn’t that all the more reason for me not to go through with it?
I have no interest in women. I’m not even sure I could father the grandchildren my mother so desperately craves.
” Anthony felt desperate to persuade Lark, and he’d been rehearsing his argument for weeks knowing this conversation was coming.
He’d hoped that Lark’s love for him would postpone this situation or make Lark set it aside, but here they were.
“You must try,” Lark said.
“But why? Why should I not lead the life I want? Why should I put some woman in the untenable position of being the wife of a man who cannot love her? This is the whole reason I did not marry the Countess of Caernarfon. She was saved by Caernarfon and her own wit and beauty, but as beautiful as she is, I never desired her. I’m not built that way.
I don’t know how to be a husband and father, nor do I want to be.
I’ve never wanted children. I should not have made the promise to my mother.
I will find a way to get out of it. Just…
please, Lark. I love you. Don’t leave me. ”
“I have to.” Lark’s voice was watery with emotion. “I have to let you go. It’s too dangerous for us to stay together. For both our sakes, I believe at least one of us must marry. That may have to be me. I don’t like it, but what choice do we have?”
“We have a choice!” Anthony shouted. He stood up.
“There’s always a choice. I’ve been selfish insisting we stay in London.
I’d rather give up the city than give up you.
You want to find a house in the country where we can live together and raise sheep or dogs or horses or whatever you want?
We should do that. This cannot possibly mean the end of us. ”
Lark stood as well. “I do appreciate that you are not insisting you can marry and still see me, because you don’t want to do that to your future wife.
You’re a good man, Anthony. Which is how I know you will ultimately do the right thing.
You know as well as I do how impossible our relationship is. ”
Anthony did know. He knew he was blessed that their friends accepted them but he resented that he and Lark had to keep their relationship a secret otherwise.
He knew Lark was right that they’d be hanged if another Samuel Gordon discovered them, and he knew he’d been trying his luck with Lark in public.
His title and his status only got him so far, especially since he knew much of the ton thought he was frivolous.
Lark had a better reputation, was well respected, and did not deserve to have Anthony bring him down.
“I don’t want to end this,” Anthony said.
“I know,” Lark said, taking a step toward him. “When we first started fooling around, I never expected to feel this way.”
“Why did we start this, then?”
“Because I thought you were unspeakably beautiful. I still think that. And I loved gossiping with you. Discovering that you have hidden depths, that you have an essential goodness to you, that was a pleasant surprise. Spending time with you has made my life better. But we can’t carry on as we have. You made a promise.”
“Did I not make a promise to you?”
“No. How could you? We cannot marry each other. We cannot stand at the front of a church and promise to love each other forever. We had almost two years together, and I am grateful for that time. I had no notion this would last so long. But we both know it has to end.”
Lark stood about a foot away from Anthony now, so Anthony closed the distance between them by putting his hands on Lark’s beautiful face and then pressing their lips together. Lark returned the kiss, closing his eyes and sinking into Anthony. He put a hand on Anthony’s arm.
Lark pulled away. He was openly crying now. “This will only get harder, the longer we postpone the end.”
“So don’t end it.”
“Anthony.”
Anthony dropped his forehead to touch Lark’s. “I know.” He did know, and it ripped him apart. He wanted to stay with Lark more than he wanted his next breath, but he knew Lark was right, that they couldn’t keep carrying on as they were.
He hugged Lark close. If this had to end, then Anthony would get his fill now. He would hold Lark for the last time, and he would make it mean something.
“Being with you has changed my life,” Anthony said. “I did not know I was capable of loving anyone as much as I love you.”
“You’ll find love again.”
“I doubt it.”
“I want you to live. It would kill me if they hanged you. And you don’t want to disappoint your mother. It’s safer for us both if you follow through with your promise.”
“I will miss you tremendously.”
Lark sniffed. “I will miss you as well. But this is for the best. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but—”
“I hate it when you’re right.”
Lark laughed softly, but it sounded like a sob. “Precisely. Lean into that hatred. It may be the only way to get through this.”
“What do we do if we run into each other at the club?”
“We say hello. We are polite to each other. But we cannot be together the way we were.”
Anthony hugged Lark again. “I will be miserable without you.”
“I shall feel the same, but I cannot find a way out of this.”
Anthony kissed Lark again, then gently withdrew. “All right. I will follow your wishes for now. But this is not over, Larkin Woodville. Our story cannot end this way.”
“I don’t see how else it can end.”
Anthony felt tears sting his eyes, too. He rubbed at them. “Then good-bye for now, Lark. But not good-bye forever.”
Anthony had to take himself out of Lark’s house. Lark squeezed his hand, but then he let go, and Anthony knew this was the end of the conversation.
For now. As he walked out of Lark’s house and rubbed at his face so it didn’t look like he’d been upset, he vowed to find a way to balance all of the parts of his life.
He had no idea how to be with Lark and also adhere to his mother’s wishes.
Those two things were completely incompatible, but Anthony would figure out a way to make it all work. He had to.