Adrian received him in the home he shared with his brother. He let Denmore slog through the hell of polite conversation as the tea things were brought out, let him look away and sigh uncomfortably and rub his hands together.
Adrian told him about the china that was in production.
His uncle nodded and bit his lip, until finally, he could keep silent no longer.
“Adrian,” Denmore finally said. “What are you doing?”
Adrian could have been obnoxious. He could have answered with a false innocence that he was drinking tea.
Instead, he answered as simply as possible. “I’m having my marriage annulled. This cannot be a surprise to you; it has been my stated goal from the moment I was trapped into it at gunpoint.”
The fact that his goals and desires had shifted? Not relevant any longer. Camilla wanted a choice; he’d give her one.
His uncle shut his eyes. “You must understand, Adrian. Those papers you acquired… They are not entirely convenient for me. Not if they are made public.”
“Are they as inconvenient as being married at pistol point?”
“Dash it.” His uncle set his tea cup down firmly. “I don’t see the point in comparing such things. I ask you to reconsider. You owe me that much.”
Adrian could have quibbled about who owed whom. But when all was said and done, it didn’t hurt to try. Instead, he just nodded. “Very well.”
His uncle looked almost startled. “Oh. Really? You’ll give it up?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ll reconsider. Give me a moment.”
And he did—Adrian reconsidered.
On the one hand, he was fairly certain that what he felt for Camilla was more than passing fancy. They got along well together. When she smiled, something in his chest lifted. She had asked him to have a choice, and he had promised her she could have it because he knew it would make her happy, and he loved the idea of making her happy.
On the other hand, if he granted his uncle’s wish, his uncle’s promise of reconciliation someday might still be a possibility. There was something to be said for family harmony. Adrian had been taking on one more burden for so long that maybe…
He realized the real reason he was giving the notion such consideration the moment the thought popped into his head unbidden. You could stay married, his mind whispered. You could keep her and allay your uncle’s worries all at once. You could have everything you want. And you want it, don’t you?
He did. He wasn’t sure when he had started wanting it, wanting her.
But she had asked for a choice, and he wanted her to have it. And—most importantly—for coming up on four decades, Denmore had chosen to pretend that his family didn’t exist. That was his choice. He’d had all these years to choose otherwise, and he never had.
Adrian wanted to be chosen. Even if he had been selfish enough to defy all Camilla’s wishes in the matter, he was too selfish to give up that chance for himself.
“There we are,” Adrian said. “I’ve considered once more. The answer is that I will still be seeking an annulment.”
His uncle let out a long sigh. “How disappointing. A bare moment’s thought is all I get? After all that I’ve done for you.”
Adrian still felt raw from their last conversation. More; he had looked over the telegrams he’d exchanged with Denmore the day after the wedding. They’d firmed his resolve. He’d given his uncle the benefit of too many doubts.
The hell of it was that Adrian suspected that his uncle was being honest. He sincerely believed he had done everything for Adrian, because in his mind, Adrian deserved nothing and anything more than that exceeded his allotment. Likewise, he didn’t notice anything Adrian had done for him. He expected everything, and anything less than that was too little. All Adrian’s risk, all his worries? They didn’t count one whit, not in Denmore’s estimation.
His uncle had taught Adrian to rely on argument, not emotion. It was a shame he had never been able to take his own advice.
“You know,” Adrian said slowly, “I think you really believe that. You really believe that you care about me.”
“Of course I do.” His uncle pulled back. “You’re my own flesh and blood. How could I not care?”
“There are a number of ways that one shows what caring looks like.” Adrian closed his eyes. “For some people, caring takes the form of little gifts. Of looking out for your future. Or perhaps it’s saying the right words when it’s necessary, or maybe even being present when times are difficult. Caring is a mutual exchange of support in a thousand different ways.” He thought of Camilla telling him to stop shouldering all her burdens.
“Yes, of course.”
“When I think of the way you care for me,” Adrian said, “it looks like this: When you need something from me, you are willing to say you love me in private. Never in public.” He met his uncle’s eyes. “You may think that that is love. But what you expect of yourself is so much smaller than what you expect of me. That doesn’t feel like love to me.”
“That’s…” His uncle swallowed. “That’s entirely unfair, that characterization! You know I would acknowledge you, that I would do more, but…”
Adrian stood. He leaned forward. “If it were just me, maybe I’d continue on like this. I’ve been blessed with an overabundance. I try to take my share of burdens. But one day, I will have children. I have a brother; I have parents. A woman was married to me by force. They all deserve better. I cannot ask everyone else to shoulder your burdens, too.”
“Is that how you see this all?” His uncle stood. “I took you in when you were a boy.”
“I already had a place to stay. I visited you, and you made me your page,” Adrian corrected. “And then your secretary. You asked me to pose as a valet, but did nothing to help with the problems that resulted.”
There was a longer pause. He could see his uncle’s knuckles tremble. Finally, Denmore exhaled.
“Adrian. It will ruin us both, the truth—me and Bishop Lassiter alike. If they knew that my sister had progeny like you…”
Adrian pulled back, and his uncle flinched.
“I mean, if they knew that I asked my own nephew to serve as a valet! That I did something so ungentlemanly as to spy on another man to obtain an advantage… It will ruin me.”
Adrian just shook his head. “If you didn’t want your actions to ruin you, you shouldn’t have done them.”
His uncle just shook his head.
“Consider,” Adrian said. “Once you’re ruined, it won’t hurt you to invite my mother and her husband out for a visit. You may even find yourself better off.”
* * *
Adrian was still sitting in his office, staring off into a distant nothing, when his brother tapped on the door.
“Adrian?”
He had put off this conversation for far too long. Grayson had woken him the morning Camilla left and witnessed his panic.
They’d had the opportunity to speak since, but they just hadn’t done so. Largely by Adrian’s design.
He had excused himself as too busy. And he had be
en busy. There had been documents to purloin and telegrams to track down. There were filings and business still to be done. His older brother had waited patiently, giving Adrian glances that said I told you so when they met over breakfast. Grayson hadn’t needed to know precisely what had happened to know that it had been so irregular as to require an annulment.
Now their uncle had arrived—a shocking occurrence—and had left.
There was no getting around this moment. “Come in.” Adrian sighed.
Grayson tossed Adrian one of the apples he was holding before seating himself on the edge of the desk. “So,” he said. “Our dear uncle comes all the way from Gainshire—a two-hour journey—to visit his nephews. How unusual.” Grayson took a bite of his apple, crisp and new, and chewed it slowly as if he were contemplating.
“Go ahead.” Adrian sighed. “I know you’re going to subject me to a long string of questions that culminate in your looking at me and not saying ‘I told you so.’ You might as well do it.”
Grayson made a face and chewed faster.
No point waiting. Adrian bulled on ahead. “To answer the questions I know you are going to ask: Yes, Denmore did ask me to do something for him. He asked me to pose as a valet to find out information. And—don’t look at me like that—I said yes. Yes, it did all go to hell and back, and yes, there was a wedding at gunpoint, and yes, Denmore did refuse to help—multiple times—and yes, he did just come here to ask me to give up on seeking an annulment, because it might make him appear less than perfect in the public eye.”
Grayson swallowed his bite of apple.
“No,” Adrian said, “he did not ever say please.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.” Grayson took another bite.
“Oh, I don’t mind.” Adrian picked up his own apple. “You want to say it. ‘I told you so.’ Just like that. Go ahead.”
His brother chewed and swallowed again, then slowly pushed to his feet and came to stand near Adrian. He reached out and slowly set his hand on Adrian’s head. “You utter nincompoop,” he said steadily. “I have never wanted to say ‘I told you so’ to you. All I ever wanted was to know that you were safe and secure and happy. How hard is it to understand that I don’t want you hurt?”