“I would like you both to leave,” he said. “Now, thank you.”
Neither man made to stand. They simply looked at one another, having another silent conversation, before looking back up at Christopher.
“We will leave,” Alistair said. “But first, I want to hear you say it. Tell us that nothing is the matter. Tell us that we are imagining things. Tell us…” He sighed and shook his head. “Tell us how wrong we are. Do that, friend, and we will leave.”
“Although when we do,” Theodore added. “Be warned, it might be some time until you see us again. Nothing personal, but I can’t stomach liars. Especially when all we are trying to do is help.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Christopher snapped.
“But we are giving it,” Alistair said. “Because we are your friends, and that is what they do. Through thick, through thin, the good and the bad, we are here for you.”
Theodore snorted. “The thanks we get for it…”
There was a time not so long ago when Christopher’s worst fear was that his secret would be found out. He would, on occasions, lie awake at night thinking about it, covered in a cold sweat, terrified that when it did happen, his life would be over.
He feared for his station, that it would be taken from him.
He feared for his livelihood, that he would have nothing left.
And he feared for his friends that they would want nothing to do with him once they learned the truth.
As things stood, with how he was currently feeling, Christopher no longer cared about his station. He could not give a damn about his livelihood. And as for his friends? It was in that moment that he realized how wrong he had been about them this whole time.
I was wrong not to trust them. I was wrong to assume that our friendship could be measured by something so simple as class and status. I was wrong… about damn near everything.
Why was Christopher still hiding? Why did he think that if his secret remained hidden, things would go back to how they were – he did not want them to. Despite the lies he told himself daily, he was not happy with who he used to be. He was not content with the life he had carved for himself.
In fact, the only time that he was ever happy…
A smile reached his face for the first time as he thought about Rose. She had worn him down. She had seen through who he pretended to be, to who he really was. And she had loved him for that version of himself, not the one he pretended to be.
Christoper was sick of the lies. He was sick of pretending. And his two best friends, if they were as good of friends as they claimed, would be sick of it too. They, as much as anyone, deserved the truth. It was time for Christopher to give it.
“You’re right…” The anger left him, his shoulders slumped, and he just about fell to his knees as the strength left him. “About everything.”
“You’ll need to do a little better than that,” Theodore said.
Christopher laughed and shook his head. “I intend to. But first…” He crossed the room and poured himself another drink. After which, he sat back down on the couch between his two friends. He took a long sip, let the drink settle, and then he told them the truth.
“I am not who I say I am,” he started. “At least not in the ways that matter. My father was indeed the Duke of Thornwall, so that much is true…” He scoffed and had another mouthful. “But my mother… she is not who you think.”
“The Duchess?” Alistair asked.
Christopher shook his head. “My true mother was a maid who worked for my aunt. I do not know all the details, mostly because I never wanted to know them. But from the little I have figured out, my father fell in love with her and had himself an affair.”
Theodore snorted. “He would not be the first.”
“True,” Christopher agreed. “The difference here being that when she fell pregnant with me, he decided he wished to keep it. I never asked, but I suspected that my mother…” He winced. “My father’s wife was barren, and they could not have children of their own. So they elected to raise me as their son, keeping the secret from anyone who might have dared to raise questions.”
“How is that possible?” Alistair said. “Surely this maid… or your aunt…”
“Were in on it,” Christopher said. “I like to think too that my father wanted me to have a relationship with her, which would explain why he took me to my aunt’s home so often. And why did he allow me to spend time with my mother…” A smile tugged at his lips. “Sadly, she died when I was just six, and then my father’s wife died shortly after…”
“At which point he figured it was best to cover the lie entirely.”
Christopher nodded. “The older I became, the more terrified my father grew that the secret would get out. He knew how people would react if it were discovered that I was the spawn of an affair. And with a maid of all people.” He laughed bitterly and had another mouthful. “So, he raised me with an express eye toward…” Christopher clicked his tongue as he tried to consider the phrasing.
“Never raising a fuss?” Theodore offered.
