Chapter 25

He thought that Anthony, a writer, would understand. Or even have some ideas. He hoped so. He wanted all of that in one big confusing jumble of want, and he hadn’t worked out how to articulate it yet.

“I rather thought we were doing things,” Anthony murmured against his throat.

“I thought I was the terrible influence.”

“You are. Such a temptation. If you meant we ought to speak to your brother, and Mr. Irving, then yes. We ought to.” Anthony sat up more, held out a hand. “In the morning. Mr. Irving is more than capable of charting his own destiny, I suspect, and James has certain other considerations at the moment. Shall we find your bedroom?”

“You truly think James and Nicholas—”

“I’m hardly going to speculate. So impolite.”

“But you do think so.”

“I think your brother deserves happiness, and he cares for Nicholas Herron. And that is their business. Though…if I were writing the novel…this would be a splendid opportunity for declarations of care and concern and true love.”