Page 36

God in heaven, this would not be easy.

Confessing to William that he was a man had been hard, but it had been absolutely, one hundred percent necessary, if only because Edwin had come to the realization that he could no longer continue living his life as someone he was not. He’d confessed everything to William earlier than he’d have liked to, yes, but he had always planned on doing so eventually.

However, Edwin had never once considered confessing to William that he liked men. After all, he’d assumed he would never even be with a man. Ergo, it had seemed silly to risk his friendship with William for a second time, and especially for something he’d assumed would never matter in any real, tangible way.

But now Edwin had begun falling for Andrew. He still was falling for Andrew. Even though he had rejected the poor man’s advances.

And despite Edwin’s attempt to hide his lingering sadness about the ordeal behind a cloak of stoicism, he hadn’t managed to fool William. In fact, William had known within only minutes of Edwin coming back to work after the photography lesson that something had been wrong. And William would pull the truth out of him eventually. So, it was probably for the best if it happened at Edwin’s home, rather than in the conservatory.

Edwin had reduced his fingernails to little nubs by the time a knock came on the door, startling him out of his thoughts. Letting out a shaky breath, Edwin stood. After he smoothed his hands over his suit jacket, he went to answer, pausing for a few seconds to fix a fake smile on his face before opening the door.

“Took you long enough to answer,” William said with a shiver. He held out an unopened bottle of whiskey. “I brought this for us to enjoy since you probably won’t let us go anywhere.”

With a roll of his eyes, Edwin took the bottle from him.

“Good evening to you, too.”

William pushed past Edwin and walked into the front room. He removed his scarf and threw it over Edwin’s head.

“Where’s Agnes?” he asked, his fake-casual tone not convincing in the least.

Edwin huffed a laugh as he removed the scarf. After placing the bottle of whiskey on the cushion of the high-backed chair he’d been sitting in before, he began folding the wool fabric.

“I thought you came to see me,” Edwin jested.

“I am here to see you!”

“You’re a terrible liar, William.”

“I’m not lying! I swear I’m here to see you!” William insisted as he shrugged off his overcoat. “If Agnes happens to be home, though, then I suppose I could chat with her a little as well.”

Setting William’s scarf on the entryway table, Edwin shook his head and chuckled. Perhaps William would be too preoccupied with Agnes to press him about the cause of his somber mood.

“She’s home,” Edwin said. “I think she’s in her bedroom writing a letter to her friend.”

“Ah.” William rocked back on his heels. “Is your mother here?”

“She is. She’s in the kitchen right now, though she’ll probably head upstairs for the evening sometime soon. We won’t see her later, though. Stairs are becoming harder for her because of the swelling in her feet.” He heaved a sad sigh. “Actually, we might need to move her bedroom to the first floor within the next couple of months. Relocate our little library to the second floor instead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” William said, frowning. “I’d be happy to help you move everything when the time comes. Your mother is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.” He paused, and his eyes wandered over to the hallway. One corner of his mouth ticked up into a smirk. “How a lovely woman like Grace Beasley birthed someone as disagreeable as Agnes is one of life’s biggest mysteries.”

Agnes’s laughter floated into the room.

“I heard that,” she said as she appeared at the threshold. She leaned against the cased opening that fed into the short hallway, one of her hands balanced on her hip.

“Agnes!” William reeled back and placed a hand on his chest, wearing a look of clearly fake surprise. “Goodness, I had no idea you were close by.”

“Yes, you did. You saw me coming down the hall,” she argued. She lifted her chin to gesture to the bottle of whiskey on the chair. “Whiskey?”

“Of course,” William replied. “How else am I supposed to make it through an evening in the same house as you?”

Edwin let out a sigh-laugh. “Enough, both of you.”

“Don’t scold me. I’m being perfectly pleasant,” Agnes countered.

“You were about to say something biting in response to William’s comment,” Edwin said. “Don’t even try to pretend otherwise.”

“I was only going to say that the whiskey is more for my benefit because it’s the only thing strong enough to cover up the smell of William’s cheap cologne.”