A shadow of amusement touched Philip’s otherwise severe expression. “Marriage has improved my confidence.”
“Then it has done you a dangerous service.”
“On the contrary,” Philip continued. “It has merely taught me to recognize disaster when I see it, and to be grateful when it belongs to another man.”
Andrew let out a quiet breath that came closer to a laugh than anything he had managed that morning. It eased something in him at once, if only a little.
The church still smelled faintly of cold stone and candle wax. Somewhere behind them, a pew creaked as one of the witnesses shifted. He kept his gaze toward the altar after that, though the tightness in his chest had altered. It was not gone, but merely loosened by the familiar cadence of Philip’s dry contempt for the world.
“You are enjoying this far too much,” Andrew murmured.
“Immensely.”
“That is rather unkind, old boy.”
“It is honest.”
Andrew shook his head once, very slightly. “I ought to have left you in your natural gloom.”
“I should have preferred it.”
That, absurdly, made the corner of Andrew’s mouth twitch. Philip’s presence beside him, which was steady, sardonic and utterly untroubled by ceremony, made the whole thing feel marginally less like a sentence and more like an event to be survived.
Philip glanced at him again. “Well?”
Andrew’s gaze remained fixed ahead. “Well what?”
“Have you any intention of bolting?”
“Not at present.”
“That is reassuring. Lady Keswick already looks as though she expects either a wedding or a duel.”
Andrew almost smiled. “In fairness, I think she would accept either, provided the ton could be made to speak of them properly.”
Philip gave a low sound of agreement. “True.”
A brief silence followed.
Then Andrew sighed. “I suppose the situation can always be worse.”
Philip considered that. “That is either admirable stoicism or a sign that your judgment has wholly abandoned you.”
“Perhaps both.”
“Have you told yourself what the worse version might be?”
Andrew’s expression stilled a fraction. “Several.”
“And yet here you remain.”
Andrew glanced at him once more, more seriously now. “Where else should I be?”
Philip’s answer came without hesitation. “Precisely.”
There was no praise in it, but there was understanding, and from Philip that amounted to something deeper. Andrew looked back toward the altar.
The situation could indeed be worse. Frances Norton might have refused him outright and left herself exposed to every whisper of society. The matter of the child might have gone still further astray. The wedding might have been a spectacle instead of this quiet compromise, their names turned into entertainment for half the county.
