Page 51 of Everything But the Earl
“Of course!” Beresford picked up the vase and turned it over. “Hmm. This looks similar to Makepeace’s mark, but it says GT instead of GM. Now I’m curious. Do you know who the artist is or did you just pick it up because you like lilies?”
Owen laughed. “Actually, Grace made it.”
“Grace? Your wife, Grace? My former fiancée, Grace?”
“Yes, that Grace. She turned my seaside cottage into a pottery studio and she made and sent me that. It arrived a few days ago.”
“Oh.” Beresford put the vase back on its end table. “Gracie made this? Little Gracie Midwood.”
“Grace Thomas, the Countess of Caernarfon, but yes.”
“Hmm. Interesting that Gerard Makepeace and Grace Midwood have the same initials.” Beresford waved his hand. “A coincidence, I’m sure. This really is a beautiful piece, though. Grace is far more talented than I knew.”
Owen nodded. “I know little about pottery, but I did like the vase. I suppose I should put flowers in it or something, but I like it sitting there empty. It feels more like it is worth displaying on its own, and not just used as a functional item.”
“Indeed,” said Beresford, giving the painted lilies another look. “It’sa beautiful piece. It should be displayed.”
Lark turned to leave the room. “If we’re done here, I could do well with a glass or five of whiskey.”
*
Lark had seemedangry all evening, so when they finally retired to the bedroom in his house, Anthony said, “All right, let me have it.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re clearly upset with me. So I’m telling you that there’s no need to keep it bottled up. Yell at me. Tell me to go to the devil. Let me have it.”
Lark had dismissed his valet a few minutes before and was presently fiddling with the cufflinks on his shirt. Anthony had already rid himself of his coat and breeches and sat on the bed in his shirt and drawers, waiting for Lark to come to bed.
But first, they needed to resolve whatever fit Lark was silently throwing.
“I’m not—” Lark started, but he shook his head. “I’m not angry atyou. Well, I am a bit, because you made me think you intended to consider Lady Charlotte a viable option for a wife and then ignored her through most of dinner. But that’s not my main issue.”
“Then what is your main issue?”
“How long can we carry on, Anthony? Realistically. You’re making light of this situation, which is what you always do, but you agreed you’d find a wife by the end of next Season. Where does that leave us?”
“Lark.”
“My family feels less invested in my securing a wife. And now that Laurence is courting the Everleigh girl, I suspect soon enough there will be a baby to whom I can bequeath my title.” Laurence was Lark’s younger brother. “Laurence was always the more responsible oneanyway. Or, I don’t know, perhaps my father will outlive us all.”
Beresford nodded at that. Lark’s father, the Marquess of Beaufort, seemed impervious to the ravages of time. He’d just turned sixty but had the energy of a much younger man and kept up a lively social schedule. Beresford sometimes joked that, at the end of time, after society crumbled, all that would remain would be cockroaches and Beaufort.
“But you could marry,” Beresford said. “That is, you are not cursed to only find men sexually appealing. You are fond of women, too. You’ve lain with your fair share of them.”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“Not tomorrow. Who knows what the future holds, but I do not feel Ihaveto, and certainly not while I am still carrying on with you. Which brings us back around to my larger point, which is that you will not be mine for much longer. And I find myself torn between ending things now to spare myself the heartbreak later, and holding on to you for as long as you’re still mine.”
“Heartbreak?”
“You know as well as I do that the main reason we are still together is that we are… emotionally attached.”
“Emotionally attached.”
Lark finally succeeded in pulling out his cufflinks and placed them on his bureau. “We love each other. That’s not news.”
