Chapter Twenty-Three
Bobby
He twists his fingers together, pacing across the faded rug outside the sitting room, and wishes he still had his blasted
signet ring. He keeps replaying the horrible sight of Lady Harrington fainting to the ground while his hand was wrapped around
James’—
Bobby shudders and rolls his shoulders. If only that were the worst of it.
Because then James ran, leaving him alone in the hedge maze to help the collapsed Lady Harrington. He bolted clean off the
estate—left everything behind, his luggage, the clothes strewn between their bedrooms, his books, his money, everything.
Bobby’s not surprised. Running is what James does best.
He comes to a halt across from the closed double doors to the sitting room where Gwen, Beth, Meredith, and Albie are attempting
to deal with the mess he’s made.
Except he didn’t think James would run this time. There was a part of him, a larger part than he wants to admit, that thought
maybe it was enough—maybe he was enough—that what they were building together, through kisses and sex and games of whist and time with his family, was
enough to make James—
What? Make him want to fight through the justifiable fear of retribution and prison? Make him want to shout from London’s rooftops that he’s been fucking Bobby Mason and wants to continue for the foreseeable future? Enough to make him want to forsake all his duties, and a wife, and a family, for Bobby?
Of course it wasn’t enough. Of course Bobby wasn’t enough. James has a bigger life to build, a viscountcy to honor, political
ambitions to achieve. How could Bobby alone be enough to persuade him to forsake all of that?
How could Bobby be enough to love, really? What was he thinking?
He jumps when the doors to the sitting room open. Meredith slips through, giving him a once-over. Bobby stands up straight,
tries to look like he isn’t completely falling apart. Tries to drum up the words to apologize and explain and promise it won’t
ever happen again.
“Meredith,” he starts, her name a croak out of his parched mouth.
“Come here,” Meredith says, stepping across the narrow hall to take his arm and lead him two doors down to his father’s old
study.
Bobby goes, an old unhappiness rippling in his stomach alongside his humiliation and fear and rage. He can do no more than
stumble in behind Meredith as she opens the door and waves him through.
The room is dusty, like time has stood still since he and Albie left for London. The chairs are still covered with drapes,
the curtains still drawn. It’s close, and a little musty, and filled with the ghost of his father, who would be screaming
bloody murder if he had caught Bobby—
“I’m sorry,” he says, blinking as Meredith throws back the curtains, sending a plume of dust into the air and filling the
study with fading sunlight. “It can’t be healthy for you to be in here.”
She shoots a look over her shoulder and cracks the window to let the warm afternoon breeze waft through the room. Bobby watches it rustle the remaining papers on the desk, a whisper of years past.
“Sit,” Meredith says, turning to look at him with her hands on her hips.
Bobby jolts into motion, yanking the drapes off the two armchairs across from his father’s immense desk. They’re a faded red
to complement the dark wood of the desk and bookshelves, which only serve to make the room seem smaller, taller, and more
intimidating.
Though the sight of Meredith sitting down in one of the chairs brings him a little peace. His mother never sat in here. But
Meredith is now. And Meredith is not his father.
“I really am sorry,” he repeats.
“Bobby, sit down,” Meredith insists.
Bobby plops into the opposite chair, coughing as dust rises around him. Meredith waves a hand in front of her face until it
settles. His tongue almost feels too big for his mouth, like all his apologies and justifications are ballooning against his
teeth.
“Are you all right?”
Bobby blinks at Meredith. “What?”
“Are you all right?” she repeats.
“Am I— Is your mother all right?” he asks. “She fell so hard.”
“She’s just fine,” Meredith says, her voice soothing and smooth. She reaches between the chairs to take his hand. “She was
merely startled. But I’m worried about you.”
“Me? Why?” Bobby asks, his voice squeaky with nerves.
“Because you look like someone just shot your puppy, and you’re jumpy as anything, and the man you—and James ran off, and
I want to know how you are, please.”
“I’m fine,” he says, rough and probably too quickly. “I just hope Lady Harrington isn’t too angry. I truly didn’t mean to upset her. Or, God, for her to see—I didn’t mean for any of you to see—I would never put you in that position. We were being careful, but I just—”
“Bobby,” Meredith says, squeezing his hand. “Please. No one is angry.”
Bobby’s heart stutters in his chest. “You don’t need to lie.”
“I’m not,” she says firmly. “My mother is fine. She was surprised, as I said, that’s all. She’s not upset, or scandalized.
And the rest of us—” She pauses, her grip tight and eyes a bit shiny. “Did you think we wouldn’t support you?”
Bobby blows out a breath, feeling his chin start to tremble. He does not want to cry in front of his sister-in-law. She’s
already dealing with more than enough without him breaking down into the heaving sobs he can feel building in his chest.
“We love you,” Meredith says. “No matter who you choose to love, okay?”
Bobby does lose the battle with his tears then, one slipping fat down his cheek. He grips back at Meredith’s hand, watching
as her smile softens.
“We love Gwen and Beth just the same, don’t we?”
“’Course,” he mumbles. “But it’s not... They’re—they have Uncle Dashiell, and Aunt Cordelia, and it’s not the same.”
Meredith sighs. “It will be harder, but it’s no different to us—to me and Albie. I promise you that,” she insists.
Bobby goes to shake his head, knowing any relationship of his would put Albie in danger in a way even Gwen and Beth getting
exposed never could.
Meredith squeezes his fingers. “Albie and I will help you make whatever life you want. We get to choose how we spend our lives
now. It’s us against the world—isn’t that what you told Albie?”
He meets her eyes at that, feeling the pit of despair in his stomach start to fill. “Old habits,” he admits. “With you here,
and Albie working himself to the bone in parliament, it— I haven’t—”
“I know,” Meredith says, and her voice sounds a little watery too. “But I’m better now. And you and Albie are going to get your heads out of your arses and work together, and we are going to build a life that makes us all happy.”
“Okay,” Bobby says, fighting with his whole heart to believe her, because he wants so desperately to believe her.
“And we’ll find a way to convince James that—”
Bobby shakes his head and stares down at the floor, deflating. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he says
quickly. “James—Demeroven—he doesn’t want a life like that. It was just a passing... something...” He peters off. The
words feel like thin knives pushing into his chest.
He thought it was more than that. Thought it was—they were—on their way to a kind of everything. But he was wrong.
“That’s all right. You both keep running. We’ll be waiting when you’re done,” Meredith says.
Bobby looks up to meet her eyes. “Mere.”
Meredith only smiles. “It will be all right, I promise,” she says. “Now, I need to go make sure Gwen and Beth have my mother
in hand.”
“I should come with you,” Bobby says quickly. “Apologize.”
“It’s unnecessary, but you may,” Meredith agrees. “She went snooping. What she found is entirely her own fault.”
Bobby blushes up to his ears. “We shouldn’t have been...”
“We’ve all been there,” Meredith says with a coy little shrug that makes Bobby choke out a true laugh. “A few games of whist,
she’ll forget completely.”
“I doubt that,” Bobby says, but he rises and helps Meredith from her chair all the same.
“Be glad it wasn’t Beth and Gwen—you’d never hear the end of it,” Meredith says, leading him toward the door.
“What, you think I will now?”
Meredith looks over her shoulder with a slightly evil smirk, eyebrow raised.
“You’re awful, you know,” Bobby tells her, feeling himself smile as she cackles.
But his brief good cheer evaporates when someone knocks lightly on the door. Meredith squeezes Bobby’s hand and then lets
go, opening the doors to reveal Albie waiting there, pulled up to his full height in the dim hallway. Dread creeps into Bobby’s
chest as he watches Meredith lean up to give Albie a brief kiss before disappearing out the door.
Bobby scuffs a foot against the ground, bracing himself. Albie slips into the room and closes the doors behind him with a
light bang. A dressing-down will feel much more fitting than Meredith’s soft, encouraging words, and he certainly deserves
one, no matter what Meredith—
Albie wraps his arms around Bobby, pulling him into his chest. Bobby exhales in surprise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around
Albie in return.
Then the tears he’s barely managed to withhold burst forth and he finds himself suddenly weeping into his brother’s shoulder.
All the pain of the last year, and the grief, and the anger pour out on top of the hurt of seeing James run away—of realizing
that he alone isn’t enough to make James want an alternate life. Heartbreak, that’s what he’s feeling. And Albie just takes
it all, rubbing his back, a stoic rock.
After what feels like an eternity, his tears finally stop, and Bobby pulls back, blinking up at Albie with hazy eyes. “Sorry,”
he mumbles.
“ I’m sorry,” Albie says. “We’ll find a way for the two of you to be together.”
Bobby shakes his head. “James won’t want to find one.”
Albie sighs, holding Bobby by the shoulders. “Then we’ll find someone who will,” he says firmly. “I should have said something ages ago, made it clear. I will love whoever you choose to love, and I will treat them like family just the same.”
Bobby feels one final tear slipping down his face, his chest expanding.
“We’re in this together. Gwen and Beth too. We make a good team, remember?” Albie smiles as he wipes the tear away.
“Meredith reminded me,” Bobby says hoarsely.
“Good. We’ll be okay.”
“Yeah,” Bobby says, bobbing his head. “Yeah, we will.”
Albie squeezes his shoulders. “Now, Lady Harrington is telling Beth and Gwen about the woman she was in love with at finishing
school, and we’re missing it.”
“What?” Bobby exclaims.
“A schoolgirl fancy, she’s calling it. Grew out of it, apparently, but she remembers her fondly. She was just telling us about
scaling the dormitory wall to sneak into her room, if you want to get in there?”
“Why are we just standing here?” Bobby asks, wiping sloppily at his nose and smiling tremulously up at his brother.
Albie laughs brightly and takes his arm, the two of them hurrying out of the office and across to the sitting room.
And no, things aren’t all right. And no, Bobby isn’t sure if they can really make a true, loving life for him the way they’re
all promising. But damned if he won’t try.
And if James can’t be part of it—he has nights and nights to weep over that. Today, he’s not going to let James steal any
more of his joy.