Chapter 13
“Ishall state my purpose clearly, since I have come to complain about the fact that your honeymoon has been over for an entire week and you have made no attempt to introduce me properly to your wife,” Gregory stated.
Ronan finally looked up.
“You know who Augusta is.”
“I know her name, her family, and the fact that she now lives in this house, although none of those things amount to knowing her,” Gregory said, removing his gloves and placing them over one knee.
“You have spent years expecting me to appear whenever you require company, advice, distraction, or someone willing to fence with you after you have become unbearable, yet the moment you acquire a wife, you behave as though the two of you have entered a private kingdom and all former acquaintances must request permission to approach the gates.”
“I have not prevented you from visiting.”
“You have prevented the visit from becoming useful,” Gregory replied.
“I came twice during the past week, and on both occasions you received me in this room, spoke about estate matters, and sent me away before dinner, while your wife remained somewhere else in the house. I find it difficult to believe that this happened by accident.”
“Augusta was occupied.”
“Both times?”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
Ronan’s expression flattened.
“That is not your concern.”
Gregory leaned back and studied him with growing amusement.
“You have become very protective of her schedule for a man who claims nothing unusual is happening,” he said.
“I have not asked to question her about the marriage, inspect her private rooms, or demand that she entertain me for an entire afternoon. I only want to meet the woman, speak to her for the length of a meal, and determine whether she is as patient as she must be to share a house with you.”
“She does not need to be examined for your amusement.”
“I am not examining her,” Gregory replied, although his smile suggested that amusement remained very much part of the plan.
“I am attempting to behave like your friend, which includes meeting the person who now occupies most of your attention, even if you continue pretending that nothing in your life has changed.”
Ronan returned his gaze to the document.
“My attention is occupied by work.”
“Your attention has not been on that page since I entered,” Gregory said, leaning forward enough to glance at the writing.
“In fact, I suspect it was not on the page before I entered either, since you look less like a man reading accounts and more like a man waiting for something he refuses to name.”
“I am waiting for you to leave.”
“That is almost convincing, although the force would be greater if you had not sent for tea before I arrived.”
“The tea is for me.”
“You ordered enough for two.”
“I assumed you would ignore the first request to leave.”
Gregory’s smile widened.
“You do know me.”
“I know that you make yourself difficult to remove.”
“And yet you will not allow me the chance to know your wife,” Gregory said, allowing the humour to fade just enough to make the complaint sound sincere.
“Ronan, I am not asking for anything unreasonable, and I do not understand why you are treating a simple introduction as though it will expose some delicate secret. The honeymoon ended a week ago, Augusta is no longer settling into the house under the excuse of privacy, and I am not some distant acquaintance who will carry every observation into a drawing room. I am your friend, and I would like to meet her.”
Ronan set down the pen he had not used.
“You are not discreet.”
“I am perfectly discreet when the matter deserves it.”
“You decide very few matters deserve it.”
“That is an unfair summary of my character, although I admit it contains enough truth to make argument inconvenient,” Gregory replied. “Still, I have never betrayed your confidence, and I would not make Augusta uncomfortable merely to satisfy curiosity.”
“You are making me uncomfortable to satisfy curiosity.”
“That is different, since irritating you has been part of our friendship for years.”
Ronan leaned back in his chair, although the movement only made the exhaustion in his shoulders more apparent.
“You will meet her eventually.”
“I dislike eventually,” Gregory said. “It is a word used by people who hope delay will become refusal without requiring them to say so. I have therefore decided upon a more practical arrangement, and I shall remain for dinner tonight.”
“No.”
Gregory blinked as though the answer had surprised him, then he looked towards the clock.
“You may object now if it helps preserve your sense of authority, although I have already informed my household that I will not return before evening, and I am wearing a coat suitable for dinner, so the matter is largely settled.”
“It is not settled,” Ronan said. “You cannot invite yourself to my table.”
“I have done so many times.”
“Not when I have specifically told you not to.”
“You have never specifically told me not to with such speed, which only strengthens my determination,” Gregory replied, and then he crossed one ankle over the other.
“You are behaving as though allowing Augusta and me to sit in the same room will produce some catastrophe, and now I must know whether the fear concerns what she might learn about you or what I might notice about the two of you.”
“There is nothing to notice.”
“That reply arrived quickly as well.”
Ronan looked at him with open irritation.
“You will not stay for dinner.”
“I will.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Ronan inhaled slowly, clearly deciding whether arguing further would require more energy than simply allowing Gregory to remain.
Before he could speak, a quiet knock sounded at the door.
Both men turned.
Ronan became still for the briefest moment, and then he said, “Come in.”
The door opened, and Augusta stepped into the study.
She wore a pale day dress, while one hand rested lightly against the edge of the door as though she had not expected Ronan to have company. Her attention moved first to Gregory and then to Ronan, and when their eyes met, she hesitated.
The memory of the previous evening passed between them without either acknowledging it.
Ronan saw again the colour rising across her cheeks, the abrupt way she had left the sitting room, and the startled expression she had worn when his hand touched her forehead. He had spent far too long wondering whether she had truly felt unwell, although she appeared perfectly healthy now.
Augusta’s gaze dropped briefly, then returned to him, while her fingers tightened around the small paper she carried.
“I am sorry,” she said, and although her voice remained composed, there was an awkwardness beneath it that had not existed before. “I did not realize you had a visitor, and I can return later if this is not a convenient moment.”
“You do not need to leave,” Ronan replied at once, and then he became aware that Gregory was watching him with unbearable interest. “You wanted to ask me something.”
“It concerns Sarah,” Augusta said, taking one step farther into the room. “There is no urgency, although I wished to ask before I spoke to the staff since it affects a small change in her routine and I thought you might prefer to know first.”
Ronan’s attention settled on her face.
“What change?”
Augusta glanced towards Gregory again.
“It can wait.”
Gregory rose from the chair before Ronan could respond, and he placed one hand over his chest with an exaggerated formality that immediately made Ronan regret allowing him into the house.
“Since Ravenhill appears determined to leave us standing in the same room without the benefit of names, I shall introduce myself,” Gregory said as he bowed.
“Gregory Welby, Duke of Brawnhite, longtime friend of your husband, unwilling recipient of most of his bad temper, and the guest who will be joining you for dinner this evening.”
Augusta looked from Gregory to Ronan.
“You are staying for dinner?”
Ronan’s jaw tightened.
“He invited himself.”
Gregory straightened. “That is an ungenerous description of a discussion in which your husband found himself unable to refuse me.”
“I refused you several times,” Ronan said.
“And yet I remain,” Gregory replied. “Which means the refusal lacked either conviction or practical effect.”
Augusta’s brows lifted slightly, and although she attempted to conceal it, Ronan saw amusement enter her expression.
“I see,” she said. “I had thought we would be dining alone tonight, although naturally you are welcome to join us, Your Grace.”
There was nothing accusing in her tone, yet Ronan felt an inexplicable need to explain himself.
“Gregory was determined to meet you,” he said, speaking more quickly than he intended. “He decided that waiting for an invitation was unnecessary, and once he announced his intention to remain, refusing him became more troublesome than allowing it.”
Gregory turned towards Augusta with a look of innocent offence.
“You should understand that this is how he describes friendship,” he said. “Whenever he does something considerate, he insists that resistance would have been inconvenient, and whenever he tolerates company, he claims he lacked the energy to prevent it.”
“I did refuse you,” Ronan repeated.
“You did, although not with the necessary imagination.”
Augusta glanced at Ronan, and their eyes met again.
The awkwardness returned at once, subtle but unmistakable.
She looked away first.
“Well,” Augusta said, smoothing the edge of the paper between her fingers, “then I shall ask the cook to account for another guest, although I suspect the kitchen will be pleased to serve someone who does not regard every sweet course as an unnecessary indulgence.”
Gregory’s expression brightened.
“You see, Ronan? We have known one another for less than a minute, and already your wife understands one of the greatest flaws in your character.”
“I do not dislike every sweet course,” Ronan said.
“You declined the lemon cakes last night,” Augusta replied before she could stop herself.
Silence followed.