He couldn’t look too closely at that anger. If he did, he would be forced to acknowledge something he did not want to admit—that he wasn’t really angry with her at all. Yes, he felt deep rage, but… not for her.
No, he couldn’t think about that.
“I’m not a mess,” he told Reeves. “I’m having a drink, that’s all.”
“You can’t pull one over on me so easily. Do you think I don’t know what’s happened here? Your wife is gone.”
Norman looked at his friend. He had made no public announcement to that effect, nor was he aware of Susan having told anybody. As far as he was aware, not even her father had yet been informed of her departure. Marina knew, of course, but would Marina really have gossiped about her own sister, as close as they were? He thought it unlikely. “What makes you say that?” he managed.
“Norman, perhaps you haven’t been married long enough to understand the difference a lady’s presence brings to a house. And this was particularly true in your case, I might add. When she was here, I could walk in and know that there was a lady in the house. The whole place seemed a little bit brighter because of her. Now that she’s gone, it’s as if you have closed all the drapes. And that’s not to mention, my friend, that there are three used glasses on your desk. I’m glad you’ve been getting fresh ones every now and again, but it’s clear to anyone who might want to know that you’ve been sitting in here drinking for days.”
Norman sighed. “You see the bottle. I haven’t had that much to drink.”
“Even so, a man whose wife is in the house doesn’t just sit around drinking. And even if all that hadn’t told me what was going on, your valet mentioned it when he let me in.”
“Billings is going to lose his position if he isn’t careful.”
“You won’t punish him,” Reeves said mildly. “You and I both know that he’s the best valet you could have hoped for. You may not have been a part of society for very long, Norman, but you’ve been around me long enough to know the pain of a man who doesn’t care to do his job well, and I know you’re happy with Billings. You won’t let him go over this. He’s only trying to help you.”
“That isn’t his responsibility.” Norman raked a hand through his hair. It felt good to point his anger somewhere.
Even so, he knew Reeves was right—he couldn’t possibly let Billings go. “What did he tell you, exactly?”
“He told me that she had gone to stay with her sister.” Reeves leaned forward. “He seemed concerned. He said that she had told her maid she intended to come back, but that when the two of you spoke about it before she left, it seemed as though maybe she didn’t. What can you tell me?”
“I don’t know that I want to talk about this.” Norman took a sip of his drink and gazed out the window.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Reeves agreed. “But you have a friend here who is willing to hear about your suffering?—”
“Suffering is a big word for it.”
“All right.” Reeves leaned back in his chair. “How would you describe it?”
Norman gritted his teeth. “It’s an annoyance.”
“An annoyance,” Reeves repeated. His tone betrayed fully that he didn’t believe what Norman was saying.
“You would be annoyed too, if you were just going about your business and one day your wife told you she was going to leave,” he said.
“Annoyed wouldn’t cover it,” Reeves countered. “I would be devastated. I think any man would be.”
“You would feel that way because you love your wife,” Norman told his friend. “Of course you would be lost without her. Not everyone is like you in that regard.”
“I said nothing about love,” Reeves said. “I would think you’d be distraught at losing her because it would mean your marriage had failed—a marriage that, presumably, you had wanted to succeed.” He eyed Norman appraisingly. “You’re the one who brought love into the conversation.”
Norman’s stomach knotted. “I was talking about you.”
“Were you?” Reeves shook his head. “I’m not convinced, Norman. Your thoughts are on your own situation. Your own wife. And they should be there. But I think you’re speaking of your own concerns now. You’re worried about your own feelings toward the lady you married, and that’s why you’ve been sitting in here with a bottle of brandy from the moment she left.”
“Well, you’ve really figured everything out,” Norman said wryly. “And in a remarkably short time, too, given that you just learned Susan was gone. I can’t believe you solved all my problems so quickly.”
“And I can’t believe you haven’t,” Reeves said. “You’re one of the smartest men I know, Norman. That’s always been true. It’s the reason you and I have always been friends, even when society would have kept us apart due to our different stations in life. We respected one another’s intellect. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Norman admitted grudgingly. “You know that I respect you.”
“I do know. And you know what we’ve always said. Every problem has a solution. So does this one.”
Something broke inside Norman. He rose to his feet and began to pace. “I don’t see how that can be,” he said. “Suppose you’re right. Suppose I do have… feelings for her.” He couldn’t bring himself to use the word Reeves had used, any more than he could compel himself to admit that the anger in his heart ought to be pointed toward himself.Hewas the one who had let her get away. Perhaps he had even driven her away.
