Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Aiden

A iden stood at the fire in the kitchen, stirring a pot of stew over the flames. He didn't often cook for himself. He was a successful solicitor, he had servants, including a fine cook. As the son of a butler, he'd learned when he was a young man from other servants in Emilia's house, before success had allowed him luxuries. He actually found the act of cooking relaxing. When he was doing it for two people he loved? Even better.

The past two days with Wren and Emilia had made their earlier declarations of love to each other even more true. He did love them. And he was wracking his brain with some way they could be together, that they could save her from the fate so many women of her rank and position faced.

"You are frowning."

He turned from the pot and smiled slightly as Wren entered the kitchen. He wore trousers, but he was shirtless and that ripple of muscle and flesh was utterly distracting. Even more so since Aiden knew the flavor of his skin, the way he trembled when he came, the absolute control he had when he was focused on making Aiden or Emilia…or both of them…do the same.

"I'm focused," Aiden said, and returned his gaze to the stew, where he threw in a few herbs.

"On the food or the real problem?"

Aiden glanced at him again. "Both," he admitted. "Where is Emilia?"

"Sleeping." Wren frowned. "At least her nightmares have subsided, but her exhaustion is so plain. As if she hasn't had truly restful sleep in years."

Aiden sighed. "At least we can allow her that now. She knows she's safe here with us."

Wren took a seat at the table in the middle of the kitchen. Aiden had a wooden cutting board laid out there with a few carrots he intended to add closer to the end of cooking so they would retain crispness. Wren grasped the knife and began to cut them as they spoke.

"I expect we may receive a letter from her husband today, forwarded from a contact in London. If that happens, I intend to hide it from her."

Aiden hesitated before he stirred the pot. "Lie to her."

"No, protect her, as you said." Wren shook his head. "She doesn't need to know every vile thing that man will surely say. She has enough fear, I would spare her as much as I could."

"And yet you're angry that Emilia and I did just that same thing over the years with you," Aiden said softly.

Now it was Wren who hesitated in his cutting. He didn't look up. "That's different. I wasn't in danger from anything you two tried to protect me from."

"Weren't you?" Aiden said and now he faced Wren full on. "When your father died, you were much more vulnerable than I was."

"He was a man of affairs," Wren said carefully. "Technically more elevated than a butler."

"But you were on your own," Aiden insisted. "And thankfully you were taken in to train as an investigator, but we all know you could have been pushed out onto the street for any minor infraction at that point. Your position was precarious—please don't pretend it wasn't."

Wren's jaw tightened and now he did look up. "Fine."

"Emilia and I were so proud of you, watching you rise from those beginnings, study to become the fine investigator I know you to be now. Respected, Wren. Sought after. Successful. Would that have happened if Emilia's father…or more likely her husband's family, had declared some kind of vendetta against you for trying to interfere with her marriage?"

Wren let out a long sigh. "Of course not. They could have…likely would have…destroyed any chances I had at an occupation, even as a servant, if I failed at my training. It would have ruined me. But I regret it, regardless. Don't you?"

Aiden tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot and covered it, pulling it slightly away from the fire so it would stay hot but not cook quite so quickly. "I suppose you're talking about regretting not stepping in more strenuously to keep Emilia from marrying the viscount? Yes, of course I regret it, especially considering what I know now. But we said it then and it's not less true now, Wren. We had no power. You and I ultimately built that through sweat and hard work and sacrifice. And now that we have it, I think we can use it for her sake. For all our sakes."

Wren's brow wrinkled. "What are you suggesting?"

"Wouldn't you like our life to be like this forever?" Aiden moved toward him, stroked his fingers along Wren's shoulder, tracing the muscle there and loving the shiver Wren gave in response…the way his blue eyes dilated with emotion and desire in a potent mix. "To be together, all three of us, as we always should have been."

Wren caught his breath and his voice was wobbly as he said, "That sounds like a dream, not a reality."

"Because of our pasts?" Aiden pressed. "Because of Society's views? Because of your own fear?"

Wren shrugged. "All of those things, I suppose. You don't exactly see many people living that way." His expression flickered. "Though…"

"Though what?" Aiden asked, meeting his stare. "What are you thinking about?"

"I…it doesn't matter," Wren whispered.

"Why?"

"Because Emilia's husband is hellbent on getting her back and that's what I must focus on, even if we pretend this cottage is the whole world. I can't bear to…to hope for something more."

"Why?" Emilia's voice asked.

They both turned and found her standing at the entrance to the kitchen, one of their shirts pulled over her shoulders, her hair loosely bound. Aiden could hardly breathe, looking at how beautiful she was.

"Please don't worry yourself," Wren said, stepping away from Aiden and toward her.

"I will," Emilia said. "I'm not a fool, Wren. I hear your pain when you say something like you cannot bear to hope. I see it on your face. We've played and loved and pleasured in this wonderful house for days, but the one thing we haven't done is perhaps what is most painful and most necessary."

"And what is that?" Aiden asked when it was clear Wren couldn't make himself.

"Talked about our time apart."

"We did," Wren said, sending a side glance toward Aiden, as if he would save him. "We know now what you endured."

"Not me," she said softly, and took his hand, then reached for Aiden. "You. Both of you. We've avoided this subject, I think because it's painful and none of us wanted to ruin our wonderful reunion. But if I've learned anything over these years, it's that avoiding the truth will only lead to more sorrow. Please, I've been cut away from you both for so long. I want to hear what I missed as you both became the wonderful men you are now."

Aiden could see that Wren was uncomfortable by the way he shifted, that he wanted to escape this story, which made Aiden as curious as Emilia clearly was. He moved to cover their hands with his.

"I'll happily tell you about my life in the past years," he said. "Why don't we eat while we talk?"

"Yes," Emilia said, brightening at the thought. "I'd love that. The stew smells divine, Aiden."

He smiled as he returned to the fire and spooned stew into bowls for each of them and himself. They gathered utensils and moved out into the main room of the cottage to sit at the cozy table together. Aiden took a moment to take in the scene. The woman he loved wrapped in his shirt, the man he loved bare chested and beautiful as he poured wine for them all. There was such comfort in this, despite the years that had separated them. Such rightness.

And whatever Wren feared, whatever Emilia argued, Aiden didn't want to lose this. He would fight for it.

He lifted his chin. "You already know I started my journey to become a solicitor just after we were parted."

"Yes. You were apprenticed under Mr. Caldwell," Emilia said. "After your dear father's death."

"Thanks to your father's help," Aiden said softly.

Her cheek twitched. "My father made some very bad decisions in his years, but I always appreciated that he helped you both pay into training positions to rise above your fathers' places in his household."

"Yes," Wren said. "He was a complicated man."

"He was." She bent her head. "But please tell me about Caldwell, Aiden. Was he kind to you?"

Aiden shook his head. "I cannot believe you recall his name after all these years."

"I recall everything," she said softly, and smiled at him before she took a bite of stew and made a face of ecstasy that was distracting almost beyond measure.

"Yes, Mr. Caldwell very kindly took me under his wing and into his house, and after we three were parted I dove into my studies and work with even more gusto than I had done before. Soon I was doing half of the old man's work and then all of it as he got older and less able or interested. When he retired, he left his firm to me, as well as all his clients, including the estate of Emilia's father."

"You were good at the work," Wren said, a statement, not a question.

"Very," Aiden agreed. "That is not being cocksure, I know I'm good at what I do. I've worked on all kinds of contracts and disputes, and I don't have many unsatisfied clients. I've served everyone from country gentlemen all the way to the royal family of Athawick while they were here for their tour two years ago."

Both Emilia and Wren's eyes were wide. She clasped her hands together. "They made such a splash!"

"They did. And I've continued to do some work for them since, as they navigate the changes to their country. It has been, apart from thoughts of you two, a very good life."

"That was your business," Emilia encouraged. "But what about…personally?"

Aiden shifted and glanced at Wren. "Do you really want to know about my life after you two were gone?"

"Yes," Emilia said. "You know of mine. I want to know all your joys and sorrows. You never married, a fact I admit I'm selfishly happy about. But you must have had lovers. Perhaps even loves."

"Lovers," Aiden admitted. "Both woman and men in various arrangements over the years. But never loves. No, I never had any room in my heart for anyone else but the very people at this table."

Wren's nostrils flared a little and he stared at his hands, clenched on the tabletop before him, his food untouched so far. This subject clearly troubled him, though Aiden couldn't place why it would be so.

"Did you two ever see each other?" she asked. "The society of a successful barrister must be much the same as that of a well-thought of investigator."

"I only saw Wren twice in all that time," Aiden said softly. "Once at a club and once in the street. We didn't speak either time."

Her mouth twisted with sadness. "It is so unfair. Sometimes I liked to imagine that you two decided not to fulfill your unwanted promise to keep away from each other. That you found each other and were able to find comfort together."

"There was no comfort," Wren said, his voice rough.

She shifted her attention to him, as did Aiden. He still didn't understand Wren's expression. "Why do you look that way, Wren?" Aiden whispered.

Wren refused to meet his gaze. "Look like what?"

"Like it…hurts," Emilia said and she glanced at Aiden. He smiled at her despite it all. They were a united front now. "Why does it hurt still, Wren?"

He shifted and grabbed for his wine glass, downing the entirety in one rather ungentlemanly slug. When he had finished, he said, "Digging in the past won't change it, will it?"

Emilia reached out, cupping his cheek, smoothing her thumb along the rough stubble. Wren looked at her then, really looked at her, and their connection was so powerful that Aiden couldn't breathe. God, he could look at it forever.

"Please," she whispered. "There have been so many barriers between us, don't create another. Not now. Not after everything."

His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing grew more labored. Aiden could see his struggle, his heartache, and he ached in return. But he and Emilia sat quietly, simply waiting for Wren.

And at last he spoke. "Emilia, you said you never saw either of us again until you called for Aiden to help you. And Aiden, you said you only saw me twice in the years we've been parted. But…but it was different for me. I…I saw you both, many times. I watched you both, and it ripped me apart."