“I’m making it sound more dramatic than it is. I’ll come round and visit. Well, I’ll come round and visit you. I’m not sure Mother and Sarah will want any part of me.”
“What about Lords? You’ll have to vote.”
“Right.” Effie hadn’t thought about that. “Well, that’s fine. I can do that.” He would only ever have voted how Simon told him to anyway.
“And what happens when you die?” Kenver asked. “You will forgive my bluntness.”
“Cousin Herbert becomes the next earl. Or his son does, should I outlive Herbert.”
“What if you have a child?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Last time we met, you spent a considerable amount of time singing the praises of a certain lady.”
“Oh, yes, but she won’t have me.”
“You sound strangely cheery about that fact.”
“I’m not. I am in fact heartbroken about it, but one must move forward, mustn’t one?”
“All right. What if you have a child some other way? With some other woman.”
“I shan’t.”
“One cannot always plan these things.”
“Kenver.” Effie laid his hand on Kenver’s sleeve. “It isn’t going to happen.”
“So, you’re the earl in name; I’m the earl in work.”
“It sounds like a perfectly awful arrangement for you, but yes.”
“You forget that my other option is a scrabbling life of disre-spectability.”
“Yes, I do, don’t I?”
Kenver rolled his eyes in a way Effie dared think was affectionate. “If you are determined . . .”
“I am determined. Do we have a deal?”
“I still don’t understand why you must make such a decisive break from the title, but trusting that you will enlighten me in time, yes, we have a deal.”
* * *
Effie went to Julianna’s office the next morning without an excuse. He didn’t have Simon and his parapets in tow. He had no army of colorers.
He just wanted to see her, to tell her about the dream.
And, he reasoned, he didn’t need an excuse. She was his friend. People called upon their friends all the time. He was building a new life, and he wanted her friendship to be part of it.
Or at least that’s what he told himself as he climbed the stairs to the magazine’s office. They hadn’t talked about their relationship since she’d told him, in Brighton, that she didn’t want it to continue in person. So perhaps hewouldn’tbe welcome without an excuse. Perhaps she would see the truth: he was attempting to worm his way back into her life.
“Effie!” She pushed back from where she’d been sitting at her desk. “What are you doing here?”
She was wearing the same green dress as last time he’d seen her, when they’d colored the December issue. It matched her eyes, and it was stunning.
“I thought to pay a visit to a friend,” he said, choosing his words carefully.
