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- 1820 –
Bridgerton House would always be home to Colin in a way no other place he had dwelt. The hallways, the rooms, the late-night kitchen expeditions were all imprinted onto his memories. Even now, when the servants were different, the decorations had changed and the Lady Bridgerton presiding over the home was his sister-in-law, it was still home. A much quieter home, he reflected as he strode into the main entryway. Edmund and Miles, as rambunctious as they could be, were no match for the eight of their predecessors.
Handing his overcoat to Adams, Colin quickly asked for Anthony.
“Lord Bridgerton is in his study, sir.”
Waving away any further entreaties, his feet trod the all too familiar path. As he walked further into the home, his childhood habits seemed to reassert themselves. Colin took the stairs two at a time and allowed his feet to lead him to face his brother’s study.
Logically, he knew that it had been his father’s study at one point but for as long as he could remember, this was Anthony’s domain. He remembered sneaking in when he was younger, compelled by an unknown, desperate desire to spend more time with his elder brother so soon after losing father. Anthony would chastise but invite him in and slip him some sugared almonds all the same. As he got older, the visits were different. Lounging on the armchair, he would spend hours pontificating about his planned grand tour as Anthony worked at his desk, spouting occasional remarks to interrupt him. There were the less pleasant visits – the summons he received to be reprimanded, the long lectures and constant advice. His last visit to the study when Anthony all but ordered him to call off his engagement to Marina. Mired in nostalgia, Colin threw open the door to the study and promptly froze.
He had expected to see Anthony at his chair poring over some documents, with a glass of half-empty brandy at his side. What he saw was his sister-in-law seated atop the desk; bare-backed, with her dress pooled at her hips, legs wrapped around Anthony. And his brother was standing in front of her; breeches at his feet, hands gripping her waist, and hips moving in an altogether familiar cadence. For all his youthful ruminations, Colin really wasn’t a child anymore therefore he knew exactly what activity he walked in upon. And yet, his only reaction was a very childish giggle.
“Get out!”
Anthony’s booming order pulled him out of his surreal shock and he promptly followed orders, taking refuge in the drawing room.
Having seated himself on the sofa, Colin dropped his head back onto the backrest in exhaustion. The trip to London had been punishing; his emotions had been in tumult for what felt like years. Faced with the farcicality of the state of his life, Colin couldn’t control his laughter.
His big brother – the menacing, always-in-control, Lord Anthony Bridgerton – caught in his study with his breeches at his ankles. Tears joined his cackling and Colin gave into the ludicrousness of it all. One of the maids, sent to furnish him with tea and biscuits, hastily placed the tray before him and left with nothing but a startled look. Colin was beyond caring.
Anthony Bridgerton the cold, revered, reserved head of the family; now a besotted, idiotically happily married man living in Queen Street.
Colin was thrilled for him.
Benedict was the romantic. There was never any doubt in any of their minds he would have a grand romance. Daphne, too, was so determined for a love-match. Anthony had always been so strained; there was always thread of something in him –even in rare moments of joy with the family— pulled taut and ready to snap at any moment.
Insofar as Colin had given it thought, he always expected to make a love-match. Afterall, he had been surrounded by them. Unquestionably, his parents had one, but also his aunts and uncles. Colin assumed, guilelessly, when the time was right, he would fall in love, marry and that would be that. He assumed that would be true for all of his siblings but Anthony was the exception. For, even then, young as he had been, Colin thought his brother carried an unseen burden that set him apart. He never thought his brother was hard to love precisely, just that it would take a very particular someone willing to put in some effort.
To see that now, of all of them, Anthony had managed to find this uncomplicated domesticity seemed astounding to him.
Colin was unreservedly happy for his brother but it was tempered with a sourness he couldn’t deny— jealousy.
No, envy. Jealousy implied fear of losing something you already had and Colin had never had this— this easy, straightforward intimacy with Marina.
“I’m sorry!”
Marina had slipped into his room at night; not an unheard-of event but rare enough that Colin was surprised. She smiled coyly as she undressed and he followed suit. Matters progressed, as they generally did between them—awkward and exciting. They fell into the familiar rhythm and Colin attempted to lose himself in the act, in the sensations, in hope.
“I’m sorry!”
“Stop!” Pushing himself off her, he fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “At a certain point, you need to just stop apologizing if you’re going to keep doing the same thing.”
Marina was crying. Moving up to half-sit, Colin pulled her into his arms, her face pressed into his chest. He rested his own head on top of hers.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for Marina.”
“I wish that were true.”
He envied his brother and Kate their easy laughs and silent conversations—the sense they were rightful companions.
“Lord Bridgerton requests your presence in his study, sir,” Adams announced.
The door to the study was already open on his second visit of the day. Fully clothed, Anthony was entrenched in his usual chair with his elbows resting on the desk and fingers templed.
“Knock next time,” he greeted curtly.
“Believe me, I shall. But you really should lock the door,” Colin returned.
Eyes closed in exasperation, Anthony gestured at the chair in front of his desk. Taking the gesture as a cue to move past the topic, Colin took the proffered seat careful to avoid the desk entirely.
Slightly sheepishly, he asked, “How’s Kate?”
“Gracious enough that she will forgive you eventually,” he declared. “She may never look you in the eye, though.”
“Nor I her,” he admitted.
“How are the children?”
Children, he noted. Not family.
“They are as always – brilliant and irksome in equal measure,” Colin beamed.
“Dangerous combination.” Anthony smiled then added in a lower tone, “We missed you at Aubrey Hall.”
“We were indisposed.”
The piercing cold water soaked through his shirt. Fingers, numbed from the cold, shot through with pins and needles of pain. In his arms, he felt only the weight of the water.
“How was your journey from Bath?”
“Anthony, you know why I’m here.”
He’d never actually spoken about this to his brother, or any of his family. Even when confronted, he evaded or avoided answering, not with any specificity. Prettily, they all danced around it, acting out some parody of a bad choreography. Not anymore.
Left hand reaching to the bridge of his nose, Anthony screwed his eyes shut and sighed. Bringing his hands together again on the desk, he began much in the same even timbre when he meant to disappoint you gently. “Colin—"
“I can’t do this anymore.”
There was no more fight left in him and he no longer possessed the vigor to play-act happiness for others’ sake.
“How is Marina?”
“Very well actually.” With a snort, he added, “For now.”
They could go days, weeks at a time when Marina was perfect. Vivaciously attractive and all the things he had been so drawn to seven years ago; was still drawn to at those moments. But it never lasted. Never more than a few months at best.
“It’s always like this. For a while, she’ll be back to the way she was. Back to the woman I fell for. But then, without fail, I lose her again.”
“I’m sorry, Colin.”
“I want what you have Anthony. With Kate. I want a partner.”
Colin knew all marriages had their difficulties. But no one else he knew appeared to have to work so diligently at just existing together; not even being happy but simply existing. Even those with bad marriages seemed to manage the day-to-day.
“I didn’t get to it easily,” Anthony supplied.
“You think I take this easily?”
It felt like he was the only one in their marriage. He conjured excuses for her:
‘Spot of cold, couldn’t really risk coming out with that’
‘She’s actually very involved with the children but they really wore her out today. That’s why I’ve decided to give her some time to rest’
‘Mother loves you both so much. There’s nothing more she would love than to see you practice your instruments but she’s just not feeling very well, my darlings’
He had been both mother and father to the children. He had scoured every square inch of this country in search for a cure for her. He moved them to Bath to avail themselves of the restorative waters. And he fucking loathed Bath. He held her as tightly as he could to ward off the gloom. He had attended every family event with a smile and quip and eyes that silently begged his family to not look too deeply. He resented the few that did for looking and asking – Anthony, Kate, Daphne, Eloise – and resented the others for looking and not asking– Benedict, Francesca, mother. He lost the undemanding communication with his family.
Nothing about his life had been easy these past seven years. And he certainly never took any of easily.
“No, I don’t think you take this easily. I think you made a commitment. One that is not readily severed. One that you cannot walk away from unscathed. A commitment, you made of your own volition.”
Anthony’s voice was measured and reasonable and it was all Colin could do to not punch him.
“A bee, Anthony,” Colin responded very deliberately. “Everything you have, you can thank a bloody bee for. Every night you should fall to your knees and thank that bee because it saved you, brother. It saved you from making the biggest mistake of your life. A mistake you were willing to make out of your own fucking volition.” He all but snarled the last word.
“I didn’t get a bee. That is the only difference between us. That bee is the only thing that separates your happiness from my misery and you’d do well to remember that before you judge me too harshly.”
“Believe me, Colin, I am well aware of just how lucky I am,” Anthony replied, unnaturally still.
“On my better days, I’d like to think I would never have made that mistake. On my bad days –,” he averted his gaze to stare somewhere behind Colin, “you know I’m not naturally given to piety but--- I do fall to my knees and thank that bee or whoever sent it. And then I kiss my children and hold my wife close.”
Anthony let out a long-held breath and faced him again.
“I am not judging you Colin and I apologize if I ever gave credence for you to believe that. My anger lies in my helplessness.”
Helplessness? What did Anthony know of helplessness? Helplessness was watching your wife disappear and be replaced with a void of anguish. Helplessness was watching every word and controlling every action when your wife was well, because you never knew what insignificant thing would push her back. Helplessness was watching your wife drown knowing you could never save her. Helplessness was knowing you would give everything to save her and know it would not be enough.
Marina ran allowing Oliver to chase her through small garden attached to their home. Colin had rarely seen his son so buoyant. Amanda sat next him chattering on about Marina. Having finally caught his mother, Marina and Oliver returned. The children were soon up and running. Surrounded by the laughter of his children and with his wife in good spirits, Colin had found his haven.
“Oliver hardly speaks.”
“What’s that, dear?”
“We ought to make some effort with him. I don’t know what but he hardly speaks. I think he relies on his sister to do all the socializing for both of them. That won’t help him at Eton.”
Colin had known his son was reserved and his daughter vivacious. He hadn’t quite thought it through beyond that.
“We can send him to Aubrey Hall after the Season. Between Anthony’s boys and Benedict’s, he’ll come back to us constantly shouting and obsessed with Pall Mall.”
They laughed then but it never happened. After the Season, Marina relapsed into sadness and Colin couldn’t bear to separate the children.
“I can’t do this. I’ve tried to make this work. Not anymore. It’s not,” Colin held his eyes closed for a moment to stave off the tears he felt prickling, “the children notice it now. I can’t hide it from them. You should see them when she’s in one of her periods of gloom. They ask me so many questions and I have no answers.”
“What would you have me do?”
“An annulment, a divorce. Anything,” Colin pleaded. This was not sustainable.
“It isn’t that simple Colin,” Anthony calmly stated.
“I will go mad. There must be something. Just get me free of this!”
“Would you like to go to Staines Market and engage in wife-selling?” Contrition colored Anthony’s face immediately after his outburst.
“I apologize I did not mean to—” Cutting his own sentence short, he ran his hand through his hair. A gesture of frustration Colin hadn’t seen in years.
Quickly recovering, Anthony reverted to his calm demeanor, “Shortly after you announced to the family that Marina was expecting, I consulted with my solicitor about options.”
“Why?” The truth dawned on him abruptly, “You knew then?”
“You were married not even two months and I didn’t truly believe you’d compromised her,” Anthony reasoned.
Dumbstruck, Colin could only rasp, “You never told me then.”
It had taken him much longer to even begin to suspect. Six months after marriage, she made him a father twice over. Nothing else had mattered to him then but the sheer joy of parenthood. That joy was enough to keep him deaf to the whispers of the Ton and the pitying looks of the servants. It kept him blind to the children’s hair – lighter than either of them or anyone in their families—, their bright sky-blue eyes, and that they were the first Bridgertons to decidedly not look like Bridgertons. It was not until years later, when Marina confessed in a fit of despair, did he truly believe it. Even then only because in unburdening her soul, she’d stripped him of his blissful ignorance. Of all her sins, Colin wasn’t sure he would ever forgive her that.
“I was going to talk to you then,” Anthony began gently, “but mother convinced me it would be best to stay quiet.”
“Mother knew?” His heart dropped. “Of course, she did,” he snorted.
How could she not know? How could any of them not have known.
“You all knew then, did you? Every single one of you. I hope you all enjoyed a good laugh at your idiot brother!” The humiliation gushed out of him as vitriol.
“No!”
Anthony used that same commanding tone that got Gregory to stop his horseplay and Newton to actually sit. Too startled to be offended, Colin stilled.
Delicately, he explained, “You were so thrilled about becoming a father. And Marina was doing well then. You both seemed happy and mother thought that mattered more than blood.”
“She just wanted grandchildren, you mean. By whatever means necessary,” Colin sulked.
“That’s not fair to her. She only wanted your happiness.”
Colin’s disbelief must have been transparent. Anthony added, “Truly, Colin. I swear it. And I don’t know if anyone else knows. It isn’t a topic of discussion.”
“But Kate knows.”
A statement, not a question.
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Marina wrote to her?”
“They correspond,” Anthony confirmed.
“It helps.” he appended, “Sometimes.”
Colin was aware Marina and Kate were, if not friends exactly, friendly; he did appreciate Kate’s attempt at reaching out to her. Logically, he understood that Marina needed a confidant. She was as lonely and isolated in all of this as he was. This painful talk with Anthony had given him more release than he’d felt in years. A friendship with Kate, as solid and caring as she was, could only do good for Marina. Though he understood the truth of it; right now, he felt oddly betrayed.
Taking a bracing breath, Colin moved back to the topic at hand.
“You said you spoke to the solicitor?”
“Divorce is out of the question. It would require you to bring a suit against her lover. She would have needed to commit adultery after the wedding. Anything before is irrelevant.”
“In that regard, at least, I know Marina is innocent. An annulment then?”
In his curt, business tenor, Anthony continued, “There are several means of procuring an annulment, primarily: fraud, incompetence or impotence.”
Coloring at the last option, Colin suggested, “Fraud?”
“Generally, it is only applied when terms of the marriage contract were not legal. Consanguinity, bigamy, if either party were under the age of consent and the like.”
Colin just laughed. The image of him, proudly declaring he did not need Anthony’s permission to marry as he was of age, came to him. They had married in Gretna Green, sans a contract. Or family or friends or even much knowledge of each other.
“It would be extremely difficult but there may be some grounds on account of the children’s parentage,” Anthony ventured uneasily.
“No.”
He would never tell a soul. Amanda and Oliver were his – he was their father. Nothing on earth could induce him to place someone else in that coveted position.
Anthony did not pursue the matter further.
“We may be able to try on the basis of incompetence – you’d have to prove that she was insane at the time of the wedding,” Anthony said, still quietly, still uncomfortably.
“I don’t want it on record that she was ever insane. She is not insane.”
Marina wasn’t insane; she was unwell. He, of all people, would not stamp her with that label.
“No, I didn’t think you would,” Anthony sighed. “Impotence—well, you have children. In any case, let’s not go there.”
Blushing, he moved on, “Annulments are exceedingly difficult to get and should we succeed, there are other complications.
“If we pursue an annulment—on any basis—your family will become grist for the scandal mill. There will be insinuations, rumors, articles and all very public. We would not be able to prevent that. Any talk of insanity or fraud, you will undoubtedly taint the children – their future prospects, marriages. Particularly, if it is believed that insanity runs in the family. Furthermore, if your annulment is granted, Amanda and Oliver would be declared illegitimate and you will have no legal right to them in any manner.”
“I see. I have very few paths to legally extradite myself and any of those few prospects would certainly lead to the ruin of my children.”
Colin threw his head back and flung his hand to cover his eyes.
“You should leave me.” She said it so bluntly.
“Don’t say that, Marina.”
“It is true. I’m of no use to anyone.”
“That’s not true! The children need you.”
“No Colin. They need you!” There were no tears or even anger in her words; just apathy. “I have no will to do anything. I don’t feel anything anymore. Just leave. Take them and leave. It would be better for them.”
Then, he fought to stay with her. The children were three and he couldn’t imagine them not having a mother. Having lost a parent, Colin would have done anything to spare them that. In his naivete, he thought his love and sheer force of will would fill any void in her.
Now, he wanted to leave. Once, he could never understand how Marina could look at their children and not feel the pride, the unmitigated joy of their existence. Now, it was getting more difficult for him to give of himself to his children where there was so little remaining.
“So that is it then? If I end this—if that is even possible, for it does not seem likely— it will be at the expense of the only good thing I have in my life right now?”
“You could live apart. You have good people to take care of Marina. You and the children don’t have to remain at Bath,” Anthony proposed.
“You think I should move to London? With the children?”
“Aubrey Hall if you’d like. Or anywhere,” Anthony proposed.
He asked for escape and Anthony offered him purgatory. To be legally, and morally, still tied to Marina while he escaped into frivolity. The idea rankled him, more than it should have perhaps.
“Shall I become a true gentleman then? Have a governess raise my children while I cavort around town?” Smirking, he baited, “Shall I take a mistress? How does that work Anthony? Do I advertise or do they?”
“You can do as you’d like,” Anthony offered tightly.
Colin deflated when Anthony failed to take his bait. That was unkind of him. His brother’s past was irrelevant; both to his own situation and his brother’s current life. Colin had not been untouched when he married but he certainly had not been a libertine. There was no allure in that lifestyle for him, not beyond the occasional indulgence. He’d always craved something more substantial. Now, he may never obtain it.
“I’d never be able to marry again.”
“Do you wish to marry again?”
“I’m not carrying on with anyone else,” Colin defended.
He had been faithful. That glimmer that seemed so assured to him as a child – a true love-match—still called to him. His siblings had married for love, or found love after marriage or fallen in love, married then realized the true nature of their feelings. The envy clawed its way back into his heart. He didn’t love Marina. There was a bond between them, forged by the twins and strengthened by their shared experiences; but to call it love would be absurd. They were shackled together on a sinking ship.
Delicately, Anthony began, “Colin, you had to have been aware, on some level, of your lack of legal options with regard to your marriage?”
He suspected as much. Of everyone he knew, well or casually, there were plenty with failing unions and none with divorces or annulments. It was, perhaps, one reason he had not made this request earlier. One reason he fought so hard to playact gaiety, because if he were to admit his difficulties—even to those closest to him—it would do no good.
But this was Anthony. The brother who stepped into father’s shoes at eighteen and not only survived but surpassed. Anthony who had managed to fill the family’s coffers beyond the brim so none of them, third son included, need worry of finances. His intimidating eldest brother, a force to be reckoned with in the House of Lords, and, though none of them would admit it, a guiding force for the family. If anyone could right the course of his life, he assumed it had to be Anthony.
“This is not the life I wanted.”
“It is not the one any of us wanted for you but it is the one you have got. I don’t know what to tell you except, you must make out the best you can so that you may get to living it.”
A genuine recommendation that was near impossible for him to pursue.
“If I take the children away from her, I may as well kill her. Those children and I are the only reason she’s still fighting. I can’t just abandon Marina. She doesn’t mean to be the way she gets. I can tell she’s trying. She’s possessed by this darkness. How can I consign her to suffer alone?”
“Colin, an annulment would offer the same result. Yet, you demanded that.”
He was not thinking properly. Nothing was clear and his heart had been galloping for what felt like years. If it would only slow for a moment, he might be able to see clearly. To see through the fog.
“What would you do if you were in my position?”
“I’d fight for Kate.”
There was not a moment’s hesitation in Anthony’s answer. Colin shrunk. It was not a surprising response and it pierced him regardless.
“But it’s different, isn’t it? You love Kate and she loves you. You have years of a happy life together to draw your strength from. I don’t truly know what I feel for Marina. Whatever I felt, so much of it is tainted now. And her illness just means I can’t ever give myself the chance to identify it.”
Her face is so unutterably lovely, even the rays of sunlight seem to take an extra moment to illuminate her.
She slipped her hands into his under the table and beamed at him. The children, perhaps aware of the rarity of such a moment, were quietly watching them wearing matching smiles.
In that moment, he felt the full weight of joy of the moment— this was his family.
“I really don’t care that the children aren’t my blood,” Colin reiterated.
Anthony confirmed, “They’re Bridgertons.”
“I am so very sorry, Colin. I was so desperate.”
“What are you saying Marina?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You don’t mean what you said.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Tell me you’re lying! Please!”
“I have forgiven her for deceiving me. I’m not certain I’ve forgiven her for taking my children away from me. Does that even make any sense?”
“She hasn’t. She can’t. Their blood isn’t what makes them your children.”
Colin nodded jerkily.
“I find myself thinking about what if I hadn’t married her? What would I have done? Who would I have met? I would have gone on my grand tour. More, besides maybe. But I wouldn’t have my children. And that can’t be worth the exchange. Can it?”
Anthony couldn’t answer that. Hell, no one could answer that. What resides behind the door you never opened? The key was long lost now, he’d never find out.
“What if she gets better?”
“Then she gets better.” Anthony added, “That would be ideal. You could be a family.”
“But it won’t ever be the same. This—all of this—will always be there. The memory of it just lurking. I’d be terrified she’ll go back to the way she was.” Colin leaned forward slightly and asked, “How do you move past something like this?”
“You may not know this but when Kate and I first married, I swore to her that there would never be love between us. Even as I was falling further and further in love, I denied it to her, to myself. I know I caused her great pain then. I was not kind to her when we first met. I know she’s forgiven me and I do not think of it often. But I cannot deny there are moments when I remember and wonder how it is that she could forgive? Were our positions reversed, could I have forgiven her so easily?
“I have learned that no good comes of thinking of that. Her forgiveness was a gift. One I shall always cherish. You are like Kate in many ways. Your heart, Colin, is imbued with far more goodness than what those of us around you perhaps deserve. When the time comes, I think you will be able to move past it so that you may cherish the life you will have.”
“She tried to walk into the river,” he revealed listlessly.
“God! Colin!”
“One of footmen saw and got to her.”
There had been screaming, shouts; pandemonium. He ran forward, knowing what happened but not quite willing to believe it.
The footman appeared out of the river carrying something. A cold, soaked miniscule body. His heart stopped.
He screamed at Mrs. Matlin. “Do NOT let the children see this! Keep them away! Go! Now!”
He watched her lift her skirts, run, trip, push herself up and run again. For one surreal, decelerated moment, the ridiculous picture of little old Mrs. Matlin running with her skirts hitched up to her calves made him want to laugh. That moment didn’t last.
The footman handed her to him. She weighed nothing.
Her face is inconceivably beautiful. The sun caught on the rivulets of water running down her face and made her beauty shine even more.
He ran.
His valet herded him into the house and ran out to get a doctor. Colin just stood there, in the entryway, holding Marina for what seemed like hours; willing the life and heat from his body to transfer into hers.
He could only think what would he tell the children? How could he explain this? How could he make this better?
The doctor arrived and he finally let her down on a sofa. He stepped back several paces and without thinking sat on the floor, knees drawn and his forehead set upon them. The doctor barked orders and people ran about. Colin thought about his kids. He imagined how he might have to lie to explain this. He thought:
If she died now, he’d finally be free.
She was smiling at breakfast the next morning; Up early to play with the kids. The children were thrilled. He joined them for breakfast where she gently teased him about his meal to make the children laugh. He made faces; flicked a bit of pastry at her in mock rage. Amanda took his side and Oliver hers. They waged a war of thrown food and tickling. Marina laughed – loudly, carefree – he laughed without calculation as to how it may distract others. He laughed because he was genuinely amused. The children were absolutely elated. They made plans for later. They were a family. Just like he’d dreamed of for years.
After breakfast, he took a gig to London and ran to Anthony.
The dumbfounded look on his brother’s face had not faded. Colin forced himself to speak.
“At first, I thought, I can’t lose her. Even with everything that’s happened, she’s the mother of my children and I can’t lose her. They can’t lose her. And then I thought, it might have been easier if—if she—so you see Anthony, it isn’t a matter of my forgiving her. It is a question of how I live with myself when I can think such thoughts about—”
Tears impeded his ability to finish the sentence. Blubbering, loud, wet tears.
Who had he become?
Anthony walked to Colin, dropped to his knees and held his younger brother.
“Tell me what to do Ant, please just tell me,” he pleaded.
Anthony just held him closer.
Later, Colin could not judge how much later, he pulled himself out of his brother’s arms and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Automatically, Anthony handed him a handkerchief.
“Stay here tonight. The boys will love seeing you. Or, stay locked up in the room and I’ll keep the boys away if it is too much,” Anthony invited.
“Very well.”
Suddenly very conscience of his situation, Colin stood awkwardly lost as to his next steps; literal and metaphorical. Unlike when he was younger, there were no sugared almonds to pacify him nor the guidance and advice he’d eschewed as a young man. Nothing had changed for him and yet, he felt something he might cautiously label hope. He knew where he stood— his options, the ramifications— and more importantly, he had someone by his side. If only to hand him handkerchiefs when he wept, he would take it gladly.
“I want to see the boys, Anthony. After all, how am I to be their favorite uncle if I don’t see them on occasion?”
“I think you’ll have to fight Gregory for that title.”
~~~
With Colin safely installed in one of the rooms, Anthony made his way to his own chambers. His younger brother had spent most of day at the childish whims of Edmund and Miles; seemingly, the better for it, to Anthony’s surprise. Since their talk, Anthony found himself scrutinizing Colin’s every move, in search of something he couldn’t identify.
He did not smile easily anymore.
For years, Colin was the family merry-maker. He teased, ate and laughed so easily. Wrongly seen as unthinking by some outside the family, his artless cheerfulness betrayed his good-naturedness—not his lack of mind. It used to bother Anthony once, his brother’s easy smiles. He worried Colin would not be taken seriously and took offence at the trifling opinion of others. Now, he’d give anything for one of Colin’s easy smiles.
Anthony could not buy that or assist his brother in any concrete manner. It was so much easier years ago, to increase his allowance or intercede with mother on behalf of one of his requests. This was so far beyond him.
“How is Colin?”
Already dressed to retire, Kate sat on the bed, legs tucked under the covers, expectantly waiting for his response.
“He’s going to stay with us a few days.”
Anthony began his nightly routine of preparing for bed, rarely relying on his valet for assistance. Today, the well-practiced routine provided him with some sense of comfort.
“Good,” she declared, then added more quietly, “Marina hasn’t responded to my latest letters.”
“She’s not well.” he stated curtly.
Undressed for bed, Anthony sat on the edge of the bed arms braced and splayed at his sides, facing the wall.
“I told Colin his options. I don’t think he’s decided yet.”
“I can’t see him pursuing an annulment.”
“Neither can I. I’m not sure I see him living separately from her either.” Sighing deeply, he murmured, “He’s doing all he can.”
Kate circled her arms around his waist, pushing her front to his back and set her chin on his right shoulder.
“She’s trying too, in her own way. Some of her letters are so…I worry. About both of them. And the children.”
She placed a kiss on his shoulder.
Turning partly and tilting his head to the side to rest his forehead against on hers, Anthony asked, “How do I mend this for him?”
“You don’t Anthony. Just be there for him.”