“You’re in a fine mood. Shall I assume it’s the marriage that weighs on you? Or are you merely rehearsing your brooding for the morning papers?”
Oscar stilled, the cut crystal pinched between his thumb and first finger. He had not announced the engagement. He had, in fact, only secured the agreement that morning. “I see you have spies everywhere, Adrian.”
“I have servants. Same thing, but they require less training and only slightly more gin.” Adrian sipped, then cocked his head, as if seeing Oscar anew. “Congratulations, I suppose. I never thought you’d be the first of our set to succumb.”
Oscar regarded him over the rim. “I was under the impression you considered yourself married already. To your own reflection.”
“If I do, it is an open marriage. But enough about me.” Adrian leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You’re marrying the Neads girl. The only woman in London more feared than you, and considerably better company.”
Oscar’s mouth twitched, though he refused to admit any humor in the remark. “Lady Nancy will make a capable duchess.”
Adrian let out a scandalized gasp. “A glowing endorsement! If you are not careful, thetonwill think you have developed a soul.”
Oscar ignored this. “I assume you did not hunt me down solely to discuss my nuptials.”
A small smile bloomed on Adrian’s face—too slow, too sharp at the edges. “Well, if we must be serious. I did want to offer my condolences.” He lifted his glass. “For the twins. Or rather, for you, in your new role as nursemaid and patriarch.”
Oscar’s jaw shifted. “They will be provided for. That is all that matters.”
Adrian fixed him with a stare, the effect magnified by the firelight. “You don’t believe that.”
Oscar set his glass aside. “What is your point, Adrian?”
“Only that you and I, for all our differences, have one thing in common: we know what it is to be responsible for more than just ourselves.” Adrian shrugged, feigning casualness, but his eyes didn’t leave Oscar’s face. “How are they?”
Oscar sighed, allowing the truth to seep out. “Clara hurls food at the staff and asks for her mother by the hour. Henry cries when he thinks no one is listening. It is…” He broke off, unwilling to confess more.
“Grim,” Adrian supplied, but his voice was gentle. “Children are resilient, or so I’m told. But a good governess does wonders. Have you one in mind?”
Oscar almost laughed. “I have gone through three in as many weeks. The last packed her trunk before luncheon.”
Adrian nodded, as if expecting this. “You require someone… robust. I know a woman. Miss Blythe. She raised my cousin’s brood and emerged with all her faculties intact.”
“Miss Blythe?” Oscar echoed, wariness rising. “Is she a person or a siege engine?”
Adrian grinned. “Both, I think. I’ll have her call on you.”
Oscar made a mental note to burn Adrian’s letters unopened for the next year. But he said, “Thank you.”
Adrian sat back, steepling his fingers. “Do you wish to talk about the marriage? Or shall we continue to drink and pretend the world does not exist outside this room?”
Oscar’s thoughts turned, inevitably, to Nancy. “There is nothing to discuss. We have come to an arrangement. It is logical and efficient. No more, no less.”
Adrian let out a low whistle. “Romantic. I give it three months before one of you attempts murder.”
“Six,” Oscar corrected. “She’s far too disciplined to act in haste.”
Adrian nodded, accepting the wager. Then, with a suddenness that always caught Oscar off guard, he dropped the mask of the clown and became, for a moment, the friend Oscar remembered from another, simpler life. “Are you happy?”
The question was so unexpected that Oscar nearly spilled his drink. “What an idiotic question.”
Adrian shrugged. “Some men are not suited to happiness. I suppose you’re one of them.”
Oscar found, to his surprise, that the statement did not anger him. “I have never understood the concept.”
Adrian tipped his glass in salute. “Then you are the luckiest man alive. You cannot miss what you never knew.”
Oscar thought about the twins. About the way Henry’s small hand clung to his coat, desperate and trembling. About Clara’s fierce, terrified eyes.
