Chapter 18
“Might I say that you are rather silent this evening, Vermont?” Rupert noted with a raised eyebrow, a look that was both knowing and mocking. “Quite the feat for you, as silence is a cloak you wear as if winter is an ever-present threat.”
Adrian dismissed his friend with a scoff and then a sip of his brandy.
“Ah, so guessing is the name of the game.” Rupert grinned over the lip of his glass, took a sip, and smacked his lips. “Let me see… what pieces do I have to play with?”
Adrian glared a warning at his friend, even if he knew it would achieve nothing.
He should not have gone to visit Rupert, a mistake he was sure to rue. But what other choice did I have? To hide away in my office? To pretend as if Ophelia was not there… as if I was not thinking about her constantly…
No, that was a far worse option. Not that he hadn’t tried it already.
For two days, he had done everything that he could to avoid his wife, to not think about her, and to give the impression that he wanted nothing to do with the woman so that she might take the hint and leave him be.
Although somehow the idea that she might want to avoid him too… that stung in ways that Adrian could not fathom and refused to consider too deeply for fear of what it might reveal.
“I suppose it starts at the beginning, as these things often do,” Rupert began, still smirking to himself.
He sat on the sofa across from Adrian, lying back so that his boots were kicked up on the arms of the chair.
Between them burned a roaring fire; the flames licking at the stone of the hearth, turning it as black as night.
“You married recently, as we all know. A marriage you claim to abhor, only I am not so certain that is true.”
“Will you stop?” Adrian snapped. “I am not in the mood for your mockery.”
“Mockery? Is that what I am doing?”
“You know what you are doing,” Adrian said darkly.
Rupert chuckled. “Now, if you did loathe your marriage as you claim, I wonder what on earth you were doing together at the ball last week? I cannot remember the last time that you attended one, and yet there you were. All eager and keen for the event. If you had it in you to smile, you just might have done that too.”
“I said stop.”
“Appearances, I am sure,” Rupert cooed as he had another sip of his brandy. “That is why you were there. Your marriage was to avoid a scandal, so it might look strange if the two of you hid yourselves away…” He looked pointedly at Adrian.
“That is all it was,” Adrian agreed, another hasty sip. His lies were wearing thin, and he had no doubt that Rupert saw right through them.
“And yet, I do recall the look you fixed me in when I dared to speak with your darling wife,” Rupert noted.
“If looks could kill…” He let out a low whistle.
“Well, I would not be sitting here, would I? Imagine, finding myself on the other end of one of your famous scowls, and all because I took your wife’s attention from you. ”
“I am warning you, Rupert.” He was sure to glare; the flames of the hearth reflected in his eyes, adding a dimension of terror to it.
“Which brings us to tonight,” Rupert continued with humor.
“I can count on one hand how many times you have asked to spend an evening with me, as you did tonight. It is always I, chasing you. But tonight…” He clicked his tongue.
“You did not ask so much as beg. A desperation to spend time in the company of your dear old friend.”
“One more word,” Adrian growled.
“Which is one more than you have offered,” Rupert laughed. “Which brings me back to my original point. Something is troubling you. Something has…” He laughed. “… unseated you. Something is causing turmoil within, and while you claim that you want silence, I know why you are here. The true reason.”
Adrian bared his teeth and growled at his friend.
“You want advice,” Rupert said as his tone turned from humor to genuine concern.
“Oh yes, you can snarl and snap and do all manner of things to warn me away. But I know you, Vermont. And while I do so enjoy twisting the knife, dare I say that I am worried?” He put down his glass of brandy and sat up so he faced Adrian.
“Sit in silence and sulk if you wish it, but know that I am here to listen, even help, if you want such a thing.”
That was the problem with being so emotionally closed off. When the moment came that there was something wrong, that which needed honest discussion and empathy, it was rather hard to ignore that side which was so dominant.
But if Adrian did not want to talk about the problems that battered and beat him, then why had he bothered seeing Rupert at all?
He knew the answer to that, even if it was a struggle to admit.
For two days now, Adrian had existed in a state of confused misery and torment.
One side of him was determined to see it through, to push down his feelings and ignore them until they finally disappeared.
That was how he often dealt with such situations, and it always worked in the past.
The other side wanted to open up. It wanted to speak those feelings that would not leave. It wanted to be told that his fears were misplaced, and that perhaps they were to be pursued… even held onto.
Why, oh why, is this so hard?
“It’s Ophelia,” Adrian began, his voice low, a whisper as if he hoped that Rupert might not hear him. “Although that is obvious. You have guessed as much.”
Rupert nodded. “And what has she done that has caused this…” He waved his hands at Adrian’s slumped figure. “Or what have you done?”
“I just do not understand it,” Adrian sighed. “I married her for one reason only, and I do not regret it. It was right to do.” He looked pointedly at his friend, needing him to believe it. “But a marriage of convenience is all it was supposed to be.”
“And what is it now?”
“I…” Adrian grimaced. “It is still that. On the surface, nothing has changed. I am not even sure that she wants it to.” He laughed bitterly. “Why would she? Look at her and look at me. She would be better off if she had nothing to do with me at all. Happier for it.”
“Is that true?” Rupert asked. “Or is that just a wish that even you do not believe? I saw you both together, Vermont. As surprising as it was to see, the two of you together…” He shrugged. “It was not nearly such a horrid sight as I would have imagined.”
Adrian scoffed. “She was playing a role. That is all it was.”
“I am not so sure.”
“She was,” Adrian said sharply, not so sure that he believed it. In fact, he did not want to believe it. He wanted Rupert to be telling the truth, the slim chance that she had been enjoying her night with him…
“If you say it so,” Rupert said. “But this is not about your wife, is it? It’s about you. How she feels, or how you want to believe that she feels…” He shook his head. “You like her, don’t you?”
“Of course not,” he said without thinking. Rupert cocked an eyebrow, and Adrian grimaced. “I… her company is not as objectionable as I thought it would be. But that does not mean anything. I do not want it to mean anything.”
Adrian looked away from his friend’s probing eyes. He should not have felt it, but shame and embarrassment washed over him. The feeling that he was doing something wrong… but was it the lies he was ashamed of, or his feelings? He could not say.
His mind cast back to the last time that he had spoken to Ophelia. He had given her that brooch, done because he wanted her to have it… he wanted to see her smile, to show her that she was in his thoughts. Also, to prove in a way that he was not a cold, detached monster worthy of her scorn.
After that, as they had looked at each other, a moment had passed. Adrian knew now that he had not imagined it, because he had thought about it so much the last two days. An urge had taken him to kiss his wife, and if he did not miss his guess, she had wanted to kiss him back.
Is it possible… that she wants me… that our marriage…
“It matters not,” he said, his head bowed. “This marriage has a purpose, and that will not change. Nor should it.” He snapped his head up and glared at Rupert, daring him to argue.
Rupert looked at him with concern, that of a friend who was truly worried. But Adrian held that glare… “As you say,” Rupert sighed. “If that is what you believe and what you want.” He lay back down. “A shame though, Adrian. A true shame.”
“And why is it a shame?”
“Because that night at the ball, it was the first time I can remember seeing you so happy. And such a feeling as that is one that should be fought for, no matter the cost.”
“I was not happy,” Adrian lied. “I was playing a role. That is all.”
“If you say so.”
Adrian finished his brandy purposefully, long and deep sips. As he did, he ignored the way that Rupert looked at him. His friend, always quick to make a joke, always mocking, held him in concern as he had never seen before.
He had come to see Rupert, knowing deep down that he needed to talk, perhaps even hoping that he might find an answer to his problems. But he was too stubborn, too filled with self-loathing, and too aware that such a change, which would be needed for him to accept his feelings, was not so easy to accept.
His feelings for Ophelia were confused, and until Adrian was finally ready to admit to them, confusion was how they would stay. And the only way that Adrian could suffer such turmoil was by telling himself once again that by rejecting Ophelia and his feelings, both, he was doing her a favor.
Such lies, they wore thin quickly, and became all the harder to believe because of it.