Chapter 14
Fourteen
The Norwich gentleman’s club was quiet. A fire burned at one end of the room.
There was decent port here and enough distance between the chairs that conversations stayed private.
Patrick was already there when he arrived, in the chair nearest the window with his feet extended and his expression suggesting he had been thinking hard about something.
He had obviously not tried to make conversation with the older Norwich gentlemen playing cards nearby.
Evander recognised them and nodded as he entered, slipping quickly into the seat beside Patrick’s before he could be called away to play Whist.
“You're late,” Patrick said, rising to shake his hand. “How unusual… Did something happen on the road?”
“It’s not that late, is it? I said eight, and last I checked it was only five past.”
“The principle stands to me. Any deviation is worth noting insofar as you are concerned.” He signalled to the footman nearby like he lived there, and another glass arrived for Evander in seconds. “How was the drive up from Suffolk?”
“Mostly fine.”
“I am glad to see that you are as eager to discuss the intricacies of your journey as I am.” Patrick looked at him and arched a brow.
“The women were asking about you before I left, wondering why you wanted to meet here with me instead of returning directly to Carrstone. I defused the situation to the best of my abilities.”
“By saying what?”
“That you would want to take your dinner here rather than disrupting them by returning late for supper. It seemed to do the trick. When I left them they were playing chess – Miss Penrose and Her Grace.” He swirled the remaining port in his glass.
“The duchess kept mainly to her music room today. I had to entertain the aunt and Penrose’s girl all alone – and those were-beasts you keep, naturally.
Nipped at my heels all day. Heard music from her all day too. Is that usual?”
“That tends to be the case,” Evander said. He reached for a coaster to put down his drink, then settled into the chair, weary from the day of negotiations. Poole had been dropped off moments ago at his home in the centre of town. “Not worth telling me about her habits.”
“Because you know her routines so well by now? I have to ask again – how is married life?”
“You asked me that three days ago.”
“And you gave me a non-answer three days ago, aye.” He settled back and clicked his tongue against his palate. “Drink your drink and tell me what's going on – not about the Suffolk properties, Lor.”
Evander sighed and drank. He said nothing immediately, which Patrick allowed, being at least occasionally capable of patience. Someone at the far end of the room was reading a newspaper, and Evander looked longingly at him.
“What would be going on?” Evander said. “Everything is as it should be.”
“Everything is as it should be,” Patrick repeated. “That's what you'd say.”
“Yes, because it's true.”
“It’s not. I have good reason to suspect you are using the issue of these Suffolk properties as an excuse to keep away from Carrstone.
You’ve never been so industrious about these sorts of things before.
” He leaned forward, and his glass clinked against the table as he set it down.
“Do you not like her? Are you regretting the marriage to her? These things must be spoken about, good man. Miss Penrose keeps questioning me, and the aunt is giving me funny looks. I’m not asking for my own entertainment.
And it’s not like you have anyone else to discuss them with, given your brother’s prolonged absence. ”
Evander’s lips parted in surprise. Were they all speaking about the marriage behind their backs? It bothered him more than it should have. Patrick did not seem inclined to let the matter rest. A dog with a bone. Evander sighed.
“I am trying to do what is right,” he said, which came out sounding more stiff than he intended.
The likely result of that kiss yesterday, which he still regretted.
“For her and for her reputation, for the situation we were placed in. I am doing everything that was agreed. If she finds it not to her satisfaction, and that she must hide away all day, that is…” He stopped. He was being unfair.
“Were you going to say that is hardly your fault?” Patrick offered.
“I was going to say beyond my control.”
Patrick drank. “Hm. The two are not the same thing.”
“I know they're not.”
“Do you?” It was not a question. “Can I say something?”
“I suspect you're going to say what you want regardless.”
“I think you are doing significantly more than the arrangement requires, that you have been doing more than the arrangement requires since, hm, the moment you married her and possibly before that.” He paused.
“And I think there is a reason for that, and I think you know what the reason is, and I think the business today is not nearly as pressing as you are pretending it to be. And so that begs the question about why you cannot simply be with her as man and wife? Because that’s the issue here, isn’t it? Is it that she does not want you?”
Evander swallowed, then finished his drink in one gulp. He looked cautiously around him. The men nearby were still occupied with their game. “You’ve done a great deal of thinking about my marriage.”
“What else am I supposed to do here? And like I said, the women have been harassing me for information." Patrick set down his glass. “So, what is it? Is it you or is it her?”
“Must it be either?”
“Yes.”
Evander looked at the ceiling. “You’re wrong.
” He paused, collecting his thoughts into a picture of them that made sense.
“She was Frederick's intended first,” he said, and it came out more flatly than he meant it to.
“That is simply a fact. It doesn't change.
It's not a… It's not something I feel particularly, it's just what is true.
She was meant to be my brother's wife. That is where she started, and nothing about the situation changes those origins.”
Patrick was quiet for a moment. “But what does that matter?”
“It means I cannot–” He stopped. “In good conscience, it would not be… It's not the right thing.”
“Because Frederick had her first.”
“Yes. No. She was promised to him. And this marriage exists because of what Frederick did, and if I allow it to become something different… Well, it cannot. I will never know if we are merely playing at affection that cannot have come about naturally because of where we began. It feels like taking advantage of her. And I never wanted to have a woman at my side like this regardless.”
Patrick considered this seriously, which Evander appreciated. He was at least not laughing.
“You are forcing me to point something out,” Patrick said.
“As if I could stop you.”
“Frederick eloped with another woman. He married her three weeks ago in Scotland.
He is not– Aurelia is not his in any sense that currently exists or has existed since he left.
The thing you are describing, this origin point, this she-was-Frederick's, that has not been true for weeks. The situation has changed, and so why cannot you change with it?”
“I know the situation has changed.”
“I'm not sure you do.” Patrick picked his glass back up and sighed when he realised it was empty, angrily clicking his fingers for the footman to return.
“Or rather, I think you know it in the way that you know an unpleasant fact.
You're aware of it, you've put it somewhere, but you haven't actually changed how you're behaving based on it.” He looked at him.
“You are still behaving like a criminal needing to be punished, and she is your wife.”
“Yes, she is my wife. That is precisely–”
"That is precisely nothing worth all this alarm if you treat it as such.
" Patrick said it without heat. “You are usually a diligent and cool-headed fellow, Evander, and I mean that as a partial compliment. But control, and worse still self-flaggelation, is not always a virtue. You are making the situation more painful than it needs to be.”
Evander looked at him, anger rising within him. “Things are not always neat and simple.”
“Doesn’t matter. I stand by what I said.” Patrick had the decency to look slightly pleased with himself. “The point stands regardless of how you feel.”
Evander looked at the fire. The man with the newspaper had given up on it and left. Someone else had arrived and ordered something hot, and the smell of it drifted across the room.
“She was briefly engaged to Frederick,” Patrick said, ignoring Evander’s drifting attention, “while he was in love with someone else. And then he left, and you married her. Now you have been in Norfolk for a month with a woman who – from everything I observed in four days – is entirely where she wants to be, only you are making it hard for her to be there.” He paused.
“Regardless of how she arrived there, by your side.”
Evander was grateful when the footman arrived to refill their drinks.
“I am not suggesting you make a declaration of love to her over dinner or ravage her in her music room,” Patrick said.
“I am suggesting you consider the possibility that the rule you have given yourself may no longer be of use. Not to her, or the arrangement. To you. You haven’t breached the law.
She was never your sister. There is no wrongness here. ”
The problem, he thought, was that Patrick was not wrong.
He could see the logic, had in fact seen it himself at various points over the last month.
But he did not say any of this. Because the wrongness was still there inside him.
And Patrick calling it that – a wrongness – suddenly made it all make sense.
“The situation has changed more than I seem willing to admit,” he said finally, which was as close as he was getting tonight as the footman poured them port.
Patrick looked at him. “Yes,” he said. “It has.”