“Yes.” His voice was a little shaky. “Even at school I saw how Arthur reveled in the messes he created, while Darrius followed behind, trying to clean it all up.”
“And you made attempts to help me, if I recall. You paid off some of his debts, even.” Darrius bent his head. “When I failed to do so.”
“It wasn’t either of your responsibilities,” Vanessa said softly, hating the pain that laced Darrius’s every word.
“And yet the results still fall on my head.”
“That’s why…” Vanessa hesitated and looked again at Benedict. She thought of what they’d told her earlier, about the passion Darrius kept restrained, only unleashing it when he was supposedly anonymous. “That’s why you never lean into what you want.”
Darrius pursed his lips. “I share their blood, don’t I? That means I share their weaknesses. I mean, think about today. I was…irresponsible the last time we were together.”
“Are you talking about when you spent in me?” she asked.
He nodded and worry lined his expression again. “I would not ever do something that would trap or harm you. And yet I did.”
She shook her head. “I am not during a time in my courses where a pregnancy is very likely.”
“Even if it were, we are talking about one of us marrying her at the end. So a baby, while not planned, wouldn’t be the worst outcome,” Benedict said softly.
Darrius looked a little relieved that he hadn’t found censure. But he still sighed. “Still, if I let go like that or in other ways…I might spiral into their failures.”
“You never could!” Benedict said, his tone harsh now, hollow. It pained him to see Darrius’s pain. What a gift he was to this man…to her.
Still, she didn’t react outwardly to that, but took Darrius’s hand, lifting it to her lips to kiss his knuckles. She felt the ripple effect of that gesture in his shifting posture. He met her gaze, that pure blue drawing her in and holding her there. Taking her breath. Moving her heart. “That you are letting go now for me…for us…thank you, Darrius.”
He seemed surprised by her statement. And more surprised when she released him and went back to her supper with a purposefully bright smile. “Now, I have to ask, when you were last in London, did either of you go to the Royal Theatre?”
Benedict looked as confused as Darrius did at the change of subject, but he answered in the affirmative and they began a far more benign conversation about art and theatre and anything other than their charged affair. Or their fears.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know more about who Darrius was. Or comfort him as he made these difficult confessions. It was that if she pushed him too far, she could see he would shove her away the same way he had done over and over with Benedict. She had to learn from that fact and go slowly. Open the door, then show him it could be shut again when he desired it. Ask him for trust and reward it with relief from the painful subjects his faith revealed.
She didn’t think Benedict could do that. She could see that he’d been frustrated for years in his push and pull with Darrius. It brought up his own fears. She had to be more delicate. And hope that she could create a place where all three of them might find safety and hope.
Because she had seen into Darrius in these brief moments. And she was enthralled with him, enthralled with Benedict. She didn’t want to lose either of them and she had to hope there would be a way that she wouldn’t.
CHAPTER 11
Darrius
In the years since Darrius had privately acknowledged his desire for Benedict, since he’d realized the other man felt the same need, he’d allowed himself fantasies. Not many, because dreams of what might be had felt so dangerous. But occasionally, when his mind was loosened by drink, he’d lain in his bed and let himself imagine a life where he and Benedict could be together.
It was nothing compared to the last few days in the reality of exactly that. He and Benedict making love to Vanessa, to each other. Their threesome becoming closer as they ate and laughed and talked. It was all passion and surrender with them both. And his attachment to each of them and to what they shared as a group, grew with each passing moment.
Sometimes he woke in the night and found Benedict’s hand on his stomach, Vanessa’s hair fanned out on his chest, and he felt…content.
It was such an unfamiliar feeling, but there it was.
He glanced across the terrace where he was sitting and found Vanessa and Benedict standing together. She was leaning on the terrace wall, pointing out across the garden at something she saw. Benedict smiled, and even from a distance there was no denying the indulgent adoration on his face. He said something and she laughed, straightening up and lightly swatting him.
It was so easy with them. Their bond grew quickly and powerfully as their affair drew on. But it would end soon, it had to when they returned to London in a few days’ time. And then she would have to choose. Wouldn’t she choose Benedict? It was obvious they cared deeply for each other. Couldn’t they be happy?
And did he love them enough to let them be? To let them go?
“I beg your pardon, sir,” Turner said as he came onto the terrace.
Darrius turned his head and blocked the sun with a hand. “What is it, Turner?”
“You have a guest.”
