Robert’s brows rose. “You, my friend, are the last man I expected to see in a pub tonight.”
Greyson hesitated, then crossed the room. “Likewise.”
Robert motioned to the empty chair. “Sit. Before someone assumes we’re both fleeing scandal.”
Greyson sat. It felt wrong and right at the same time.
Robert studied him for several beats. “It is your wedding night.”
“Yes.”
“And you are at a pub.”
“So it would seem.”
Robert took a slow drink. “Should I assume something is terribly wrong?”
Greyson resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, which was a gesture Hazel had made him want to use far too often since their engagement.
“Nothing is wrong.”
Robert’s brows lifted further. “Nothing?”
Greyson shifted. “It is… complicated.”
Robert let out a breath of dry amusement. “Marriage often is.”
“No,” Greyson said, sharper than intended. “We agreed ours would not be.”
That caught Robert’s attention.
“We made an arrangement,” Greyson said, more controlled now. “A practical one. It is a marriage of convenience. Hazel wished to remain close to her family. I wished to avoid messy entanglements. The solution was obvious.”
Robert leaned back, considering him closely. “Ah.”
“You sound disappointed,” Greyson noted.
“A little,” Robert admitted. “I am a great believer in love these days.” His expression softened at the thought of his wife. “Though I was not always.”
Greyson frowned, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “This is not about love.”
“No,” Robert said quietly. “But is it about you?”
Greyson stiffened. “I do not follow.”
“Callbury,” Robert said gently, “if this marriage is purely practical, why are you here instead of at home? And why do you look like a man who left something unfinished?”
Greyson stared into his drink. He could not tell Robert that he had wanted to see Hazel standing in candlelight with her hair down, that he had relived their dance in his mind more timesthan was reasonable. He especially could not tell him that her laugh had unsettled him, that her stubbornness intrigued him, and that her acceptance of his hand had felt like an unspoken promise he was not prepared to understand.
So, he said nothing.
Robert inclined his head in understanding. “You do not have to explain. Newly married or not, a man sometimes needs space to gather his thoughts.”
Greyson nodded.
“And Hazel is a remarkable woman,” Robert added. “Any man would need a moment after dancing with her.”
Greyson’s grip on his glass tightened. “I am not?—”
