A knock sounded at the door.
“What?” The word came out harsh, aggressive.
Henry’s head appeared. “Bad time?”
“Always a bad time when ye’re involved. What do ye want?”
“Charmin’ as ever, I see.” Henry entered anyway, closing the door behind him. “I heard the sister’s stayin’ longer. That must please ye.”
“Must it?”
“I was bein’ sarcastic. Ye look like ye’re about to murder someone.” Henry settled into the chair across from his desk. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nay.”
“Want me to guess?”
“Nay.”
“I’m going to anyway.” Henry leaned back, studying him. “Ye’re worried Lydia’s going to convince Iris to leave. Ye’re afraid yer wife will realize she’s made a mistake marryin’ ye. And instead of doing the reasonable thing, like talkin’ to Iris about yer concerns, ye’re hidin’ in here drinkin’ whisky before breakfast and pretendin’ ye daenae care.”
Elijah’s jaw clenched. “Ye talk too much.”
“Someone has to since ye refuse to talk at all.”
“Look, I daenae care what Lydia needs. She abandoned her responsibilities and left Iris to clean up her mess. She has nay right to question anythin’ now.”
“But she’s doing it anyway. And instead of reassurin’ her, instead of showin’ her that Iris is happy, ye’re walkin’ around like a storm cloud about to break.” Henry crossed his arms. “Ye’re makin’ it worse, ye ken that?”
“She has her sister now. She doesnae need me hoverin’ over her like some jealous fool. Lydia will leave soon enough,” Elijah said, his voice hard. “And then things will go back to normal.”
Henry stood. “Talk to her. Before ye do somethin’ stupid that ye cannae undo.”
He left before Elijah could respond, leaving him alone with his whisky and his spiraling thoughts.
The day passed in a blur of forced normalcy. Elijah threw himself into work, reviewing accounts, meeting with his steward, inspecting the armory. Anything to avoid thinking about Iris and her sister spending the day together. Anything to avoid imagining what they might be discussing.
By evening, his mood had deteriorated further. He snapped at servants, growled at Henry during training, and generally made everyone around him miserable.
When supper came, he considered skipping it entirely, but that would be too obvious. Too cowardly.
So, he sat through the meal in grim silence, contributing nothing to the conversation while Iris and Lydia chatted about their childhood. About their parents. About anything and everything except him.
She’s already leavin’ in her mind. Already distancin’ herself.
“Da, are ye all right?” Codie’s small voice broke through his thoughts. “Ye havenae eaten much.”
“I’m fine, lad.” The words came out harsher than intended. “Just tired.”
“Oh.” Codie’s face fell, and immediately, Elijah hated himself.
But before he could apologize, Iris was speaking. “Perhaps ye should retire early then. Get some rest.”
Was that concern in her voice? Or was she just eager for him to leave so she could talk freely with her sister?
“Perhaps I will.” He stood, his napkin falling to the table. “Good night.”
He left without looking back.
