laughed despite himself. Aunt Bermondsey, noticing his squint, had dragged Martin to her oculist the previous day, and now Martin had a pair of silver-framed spectacles in his coat pocket, through which he could see an astonishing array of previously invisible objects. And his aunt had seemed happy for him, as if she were glad to do this service and had no intention to hold it over his head. He found that the more time he spent with her, the more willing he was to put his aunt in the same category as Will and Daisy, rather than his father and his father’s servants. He suspected he was being overly trusting, too willing to see an ally because he had nobody else.
It somehow took nearly an hour to get to the park, because every conveyance in London had apparently decided to take to the streets that afternoon. An hour spent in a carriage with nothing to do and nothing to look at was just the thing to ratchet his nerves up to an unbearable level, and he would have regretted not going on foot except for how walking in town made him short of breath. But finally the carriage stopped and he all but flung himself onto the street.
He found Will waiting for him at the bench Martin had specified. Will opened his mouth to greet him but Martin made a silencing gesture, then sat beside him.
“There can’t be any letters like that last one,” Martin said.
“I know. I meant to be careful, but it didn’t last.”
“If we can’t write without exposing ourselves and we can’t meet without quarreling, then we’ll need to stop meeting and writing.”
“No,” Will said at once.
“Do you have a better plan?” Martin didn’t turn his head. He kept his attention on the brightly dressed women, the tiny dogs pulling at their leads, the horses and carriages in the distance. He didn’t want to see Will’s face as he conceded defeat.
“We’ll have it your way,” Will said.
“Meaning that we part ways for a while,” Martin said calmly. It was nothing he hadn’t expected, and he was certain it was for the best, however miserable he felt about it presently.
“No. I don’t want to do that. God forgive me, I don’t want to stop loving you,” Will said, his voice low and heated. “It’s felt like a gift, and I don’t want to give it up. What I mean is that I think we should ignore the fact that you plan to marry. The future isn’t guaranteed. A lot of things can happen.”
Martin still didn’t turn his head, afraid to see what he might read on Will’s face. “After all, I might die before I get around to marrying,” he said, aware that some of the calm had slipped from his voice.
“You’re so dramatic. Sometimes I can’t believe that I’m the one who wrote a play.” Martin could hear the fondness in Will’s voice and felt something in his chest expand. “No, Martin, I mean that it’s intensely stupid to whistle happiness down the wind, and I am—was—happy with you. If I have to make compromises to be with you, I can do that.”
Martin’s heart beat hard in his chest. “Compromises?”
He felt Will shift on the bench beside him. “Being with a married man seems . . .”
“What does it seem?”
On the wooden slats of the bench between them, Will’s hand opened and closed. “I want to apologize,” he said. “From the first minute you told me you needed to marry, I’ve been difficult about it. I want you to be happy and safe. I ought to just accept it.”
“Why?”
“Because my jealousy is a small thing compared to how much you need to be secure—how much we both want you to be secure. God, if I could offer you a home—not a cottage, not a make-do sort of existence—then we’d be having a different conversation. But things are the way they are.”
“Are you so very jealous, then?” Martin asked, trying to sound as if he didn’t care about the answer.
“I know jealousy isn’t fair to you and I ought to be ashamed—” Will began. He was wringing his hands.
“Get up.” Martin regretted ever thinking that meeting in a public place was a good idea. “Come this way.” He began down a path away from the more populated parts of the park. And—to hell with everything—he looped his arm through Will’s. Men walked arm in arm; he had seen it himself. So what if the feel of Will’s