“Yes.”
“But she’s marrying Rotherfeld.”
Owen nodded. “That is a bit of a predicament, but it’s an engagement. Engagements can be broken. She hasn’t married him yet.”
“What should I do?”
“You could tell her.”
Fletcher shook his head. “No, I can’t. Her mother made me promise not to do anything to jeopardize her engagement to Rotherfeld, and I intend to keep my word. Plus, she’s made her choice.”
“You never gave her the option to choose you.”
“Why didn’t I notice I felt this waybeforeshe got engaged?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to tell you for at least a year.”
Fletcher looked at Owen, who had a smug grin on his face. Owen really had been teasing Fletcher about his relationship with Louisa for a long time, but Fletcher had refused to see it. Why had he refused to see it?
They were interrupted by Lark, who came in and plopped into a nearby chair. He looked upset.
“Are you drunk?” Fletcher asked.
“No, alas.”
“Why do you look like someone kicked you in the shin?” asked Owen.
“I’ve been spending time with Beresford again.”
“Is that a good idea?” asked Owen.
“Probably not, but I believe I’m done caring. I’ve spent nearly a year without him. All it’s gotten me is misery. He’s in no better shape. We’ve not…that is, he is still mourning and thus he is not in a position to offer me anything right now, so I am trying to just be his friend, and I’m finding that spending time with him is infinitely better than…not.”
Oh, god. Spending time with Louisa was also far better than not spending time with her. The reason Fletcher was so out of sorts about Louisa marrying was that the time not spent together was bound to increase, and Fletcher found the notion of that unbearable. Because he wanted Louisa to spend all of her time with him, and not with Rotherfeld.
This was love. And it was terrible.
“I’ll come to your hanging,” Owen said to Lark.
A soft smile played across Lark’s lips. “I don’t believe it has come to that yet. This situation is complicated. He has a child now, and even if he didn’t love his wife, her death has upset him greatly. He’s…he’s like a shell of himself. I haven’t asked him to be with me again, I am merely acting as a supportive friend, and I am content with that for now.”
“You have been rather unhappy,” Fletcher said, feeling foolish as soon as he said it, stating the obvious.Of courseLark had been unhappy; the person he loved had married somebodyelse. What a stupid, frustrating predicament they’d both found themselves in.
Lark merely nodded. “I’ve been a right miserable bastard. I contend I was right to end the affair, but being right does not make things easier. I think I did not realize the depth of my own feelings. If I do end up with a second chance, I do not intend to squander it. Hell, maybe Beresford and I can buy a farm in Scotland and hide there for the rest of our lives. That would certainly be an improvement over living without him in London.”
“I do not care for this love business,” said Fletcher.
“I know, it’s terrible.” Lark gave Fletcher an appraising look. “Who are you in love with?”
“Lady Louisa.”
Lark laughed. “Ah, finally.”
“You knew as well?”
“Everyone knew,” said Owen.
“Ididn’t know.”
