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‘I know,’ she said.
He knew why it was different. He did not have to ask.
‘How old is your son?’ she asked, sighing heavily, as if she’d accepted a subject change would be the only way to move forward.
He did not know why he didn’t wish to speak of William with her.
She would be in the same residence as William in only a few hours. But he was... He was protective of the boy.
There were people who would not understand.
He wanted only to protect him from those who would...who would see his vulnerabilities and use them against him.
He did not wish for anyone to think unkindly of William. It was a fierce impulse, one that he could not quite make sense of. That, he supposed, was...being a father.
It was not the way his own had been. His own had seen his weaknesses and stabbed at them without mercy.
Had used them to devastate and torment.
‘He is seven,’ he said.
‘I don’t have any experience with children,’ she said. ‘I have always... I thought it should be nice to have my own.’
‘I’m sorry for your disappointment.’ He did mean it.
Being a father rooted him to the earth. Without William he wasn’t sure what he would do. Spend his days and nights in brothels likely. Without a wife, a need to earn income or anyone on earth to answer to he would...
Stop trying.
He would sink into debauchery and obsession as deep as he could go and never surface.
William prevented that.
William was his reason for being a decent man. He had never felt a sense of pride or affection for his own father. He wanted William to feel both for him.
Whether or not he did was another matter.
‘I should think it would be nice to have a child to care for,’ she mused. ‘In that way, I suppose you are preferable to James.’
‘That is the only reason?’ He looked at her, trying to ascertain if she truly did not have feelings for the man that went beyond friendship.
She’d said, but it seemed reasonable to him that she’d been harbouring finer feelings for him in some hidden chamber of her heart.
‘No, he...he is easy and kind and I enjoy his company.’
‘And I am...?’ Briggs asked, because he could not help himself.
‘You are occasionally kind when brandishing sweets, but no one would call you easy.’
He kicked his legs out forward and leaned back. ‘Is that so?’
‘You are too... You are you, Briggs, and I do not know how else to say it.’
‘And James,’ he said, ignoring that. ‘Is he in love with you?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘He...he has his reasons for wishing to marry me, but none of them include the kind of love you mean.’
There were not many reasons that a man would wish to enter into a sham marriage, but Briggs could think of one quite obvious reason. He wished for her sake she could have married her friend. They could’ve likely had a companionable union.
