Chapter 21 #2
Love? The thought crossed his mind so quickly, his steps even hesitated. The admission came so quietly that, had he not been alone, he might have believed someone else had spoken it.
He stopped halfway up the front steps.
Do I love her? How can I after vowing to never give her that… I cannot—I must not —
Every sense of the word carried an odd sense of inevitability.
His father had once remarked that love rarely announced itself with trumpets.
More often, it arrived disguised as habit until one day a man discovered he had built his entire life around another person without realizing when construction had begun.
Eric had laughed at the observation then, but he was not laughing now. If anything, he felt as if he was going to be sick.
By the time he crossed the entrance hall, the house had settled into its evening hush. Lamps glowed warmly along the paneled corridors, servants moved quietly between rooms preparing for supper, and somewhere upstairs Elise’s laughter floated faintly before disappearing behind a closing door.
He turned toward his study.
“You’re difficult to find these days.” Atlas stepped from the adjoining corridor, one shoulder resting easily against the doorway as though he had merely happened to be passing.
Eric managed a smile. “I might say the same of you.”
“I’ve been inspecting the western tenant farms.”
“And?”
“They’re still exactly where we left them.”
Eric huffed a quiet laugh. “I’d call that encouraging.”
Together they fell into step, their pace unhurried. For several moments neither spoke. Atlas eventually broke the silence. “You seem… happier.”
“Do I?” Eric glanced sideways.
“You’ve just come from a walk… and you’re smiling for once. In fact, I haven’t seen you scowl in over a week.”
“I’ve become terribly reckless.”
“I wondered whether marriage might suit you after all.”
Eric looked ahead. “I’ve begun wondering the same.”
Atlas’s brows lifted. “That’s a considerable change from the man who insisted he’d never willingly share his breakfast table.”
“I was mistaken.”
“Are you feeling well? That must have been difficult to admit.”
“It remains deeply unpleasant.”
Atlas laughed. “I always knew Miss Talbot would wear you down… from the moment you told me you were to marry her.”
“I believe she would object to that kind of phrasing.”
“Persuade you, then.”
“Better.”
They reached the gallery overlooking the front staircase before Atlas spoke again. “And the arrangement?”
Eric frowned slightly. “What arrangement?”
“The marriage.” Atlas’s tone remained perfectly conversational. “The understanding between you.”
He shrugged.
“You have always seemed determined to preserve little beyond mutual courtesy.”
“I have.”
“And now?”
Eric considered the question longer than he expected. “I don’t think…” He stopped himself.
Atlas waited patiently.
“I have not thought about it.”
“No?”
“No.” The lie felt strange leaving his mouth. “I believed distance would protect us both.”
“And now?”
“But now, I suspect distance accomplishes very little. Though, I have not given the mutuality of courtesy much thought since bringing her to Wolverton… or at least not intentionally.”
Atlas smiled. “I confess I’m pleased to hear you have a proper distraction these days.”
Eric rested one hand against the polished banister. “So am I… I think?”
His cousin’s expression softened. “Have you given further thought to the succession?”
The question felt natural enough. They had discussed the estate’s future dozens of times over the years.
“I have.”
“And?”
Eric found himself smiling again despite himself. “I admit… I, at present, can no longer consider the matter fully settled.”
Atlas regarded him quietly. “I see.”
“I’ve spent years convincing myself that children were impossible.”
“You made your reasons very clear.”
“I did.” He looked toward the windows overlooking the moonlit grounds. “Though, I’m no longer certain they’re sufficient.”
Atlas said nothing.
“I once believed loving someone meant condemning them to loss.” Eric’s voice had grown quieter. “Adelaide has made me question a great many things I thought beyond questioning.”
A comfortable silence followed. Then Eric added, almost absently, “If we’re fortunate…” He smiled to himself. “…perhaps there will be an heir after all one day.”
The words had scarcely left his mouth when something changed. It lasted less than a heartbeat, and Atlas’s face remained composed as did his posture. It was his eyes. As though a thought had arrived that required immediate rearrangement, and then it was gone.
The familiar warmth returned to them as did his easy smile. “I think,” Atlas said pleasantly, “that would make your father very proud.”
Eric nodded. “I hope so.”
His cousin clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to your evening.”
“Good night.”
“Good night, cousin,” Atlas said, and disappeared down the eastern corridor with his usual easy stride.
Eric remained standing where he was as the moment replayed itself almost immediately.
You’re imagining things, he told himself and turned toward his study once more.
Atlas had stood beside him since they were boys. He had buried Eric’s sister and parents with him. He had managed Wolverton when Eric could scarcely bear to walk its halls, and forgiven every withdrawal, every silence, every impossible mood grief had inflicted.
Atlas had deserved better than a trivial suspicion.
And yet…
Against his better judgment, the memory of the cornered girl at the assembly resurfaced. The unease returned, small enough to dismiss, too persistent to ignore.
By the time he reached the door of his study, he had convinced himself it was nothing more than fatigue. The conviction lasted exactly long enough for him to realize he no longer believed it.