Chapter 9 #2
By the time they set the meal aside and gathered in the parlor once more to play silly games, Howard was beginning to feel distinctly out of place.
“You must sit next to me, Yves,” Mrs. Cavanaugh claimed her brother for one of the games that was played in pairs. “We will most certainly beat them all.”
Because Mrs. Clermont was wary of sitting too close to a strange man, she paired with Mr. Cavanaugh for the game. That left Howard to entertain the children while the adults laughed and allowed themselves to be silly.
Howard did not mind children. He adored them.
But more and more with each passing minute, he felt himself to be the odd man out.
Yves had a family now. They were good and sweet and wholesome.
Cavanaugh had offered Yves employment in his business.
Without the specter of the cruel older brother hanging over him, everything Yves could possibly want was within his reach once more.
Where did he fit in with all of Yves’ newfound familial joy?
“Are you quite well, Mr. Bradford?” Mrs. Cavanaugh asked Howard when the two of them had stepped into the kitchen to fetch further refreshment for the happy family. “Only, you’ve taken on a rather distant look.”
“I am quite well, thank you,” Howard answered with as wide a pretend smile as he could manage.
Mrs. Cavanaugh looked at him as though she did not quite believe him. Her look was so like Yves’ that it made Howard’s heart hurt. “I do not believe you are being entirely truthful with me,” she said.
Howard chuckled, but he did not feel as easy with emotions as he might have.
“How could I be anything but delighted to spend this most sacred of days with such a fine and lovely family?” he asked.
“I am only sorry that I did not think to bring gifts for you all as you have so generously thought of me.”
“But you have brought us a gift,” Mrs. Cavanaugh said, stepping closer to Howard and resting her hand on his arm. “You have brought my brother home.”
“I have,” Howard said, feeling the pang in his heart acutely.
“I see that is the problem,” Mrs. Cavanaugh said, her tone astute. “You fear that because Yves has been restored to his family that he will abandon you for us.”
Heat flooded Howard’s neck and face. He was not generally worried about being exposed as a man who loved other men, but it was decidedly uncomfortable to be named as a man who was in love with a specific man.
“I have no claim on your brother,” he said quietly, eyes darting to the doorway that led to the parlor in case Yves was nearby and might hear him. “He is his own man who can make his own decisions. He owes nothing to me.”
“I would beg to differ,” Mrs. Cavanaugh said, blinking in surprise.
“I have pleaded with my brother to come out of hiding and to enjoy the comfort and safety of his family for years. Phillip has said on many occasions that he would protect Yves from Guillame and vouch for him, if it became necessary.”
That was enough of a surprise to Howard that it registered in his expression. “Your husband is an extraordinary man, then.”
Mrs. Cavanaugh broke into a smile. “Phillip is a dear. He also has a brother who is like Yves, and, if I might be so bold, like you. He has seen the cruelty the world can inflict on such sensitive souls, and he has long since vouched to be a champion and protector of their liberty.”
Howard smiled, deeply touched that a man like Cavanaugh existed.
A moment later, his smile faded once more. “If your brother has others who will protect him, if he has an entire family waiting to pull him into their embrace, what does he need of me?”
Mrs. Cavanaugh’s expression turned to pure affection and sorrow. “I believe he needs you a great deal,” she said quietly.
Howard shook his head. “He has everything he could ever ask for here.”
Mrs. Cavanaugh laughed gently. “I doubt that greatly,” she said. “Just as I could never have been content solely to love and abide with my brother for the duration of my life, Yves needs much more than familial affection to truly be happy in his.”
Howard’s face heated hotter, which was as mystifying as everything else he felt.
He had never been ashamed or reticent about his proclivities or his hungers, but standing face to face with his lover’s sister, knowing that she was not as innocent about the ways of the world or what he and Yves might get up to when they were alone was intimidating.
And Howard Bradford was never intimidated.
Again, Mrs. Cavanaugh was wise enough to sense his feelings.
“I remember how deeply my brother loved his friend, David,” she said just above a whisper.
She peeked to the parlor, as worried as Howard was about Yves overhearing them.
“Love made my brother so happy. I believe affection does as well. Yves does not know this, but I spied upon him and David kissing once. They were both…enthusiastic,” she said with a cheeky grin, then cleared her throat.
Howard could not help but smile with her, though he was jealous of any man who had kissed his angel besides himself.
“Yves was heartbroken when David abandoned him,” Mrs. Cavanaugh went on. “I’ve been watching the way he looks at you today. I know my brother, Mr. Bradford. He loves you. He is devoted to you and would follow you to the ends of the earth.”
Howard’s heart was suddenly assaulted by a storm of emotions. “I believe I love him,” he confessed. It was a confession even to himself. He did not know the full extent of his feelings until then. “But I cannot ask him to leave a family he has only just rediscovered.”
“You are not asking him to leave anything,” Mrs. Cavanaugh insisted.
“We are here, and we will always be here for him. And for you. Neither of you needs to be in our pockets constantly for that to be true.” Howard opened his mouth to say more, but was stopped.
“Think about all I have said,” Mrs. Cavanaugh went on.
“It is Christmas Day. Nothing either great or small needs to be decided upon just now. Today is a day for fun, for prayer, and for love.”
That seemed to be the end of that. Mrs. Cavanaugh might have been small and kind, but she had a will as strong as iron. Howard was beginning to love her for it.
They rejoined the rest of the family, and Howard even had his chance to join in with the games and merriment.
He might not have brought gifts for the Cavanaughs and other Clermonts, but they had somehow remembered him in their generous preparations.
He was given a fine pair of mittens that Mrs. Cavanaugh herself had knit and a muffler that Mrs. Clermont had picked out especially for him.
By the time night began to fall and it was necessary for Howard and Yves to return to The Chameleon Club, Howard felt completely confident that Yves had more than just himself to love and care for him.
And he was utterly flummoxed as to how he could ever compete with them.