Impractical

by Megan Derr

  Thinking of Edlin tricked a smile onto his face and he really could not wait until tomorrow. He looked around absently, restless and excited—and clearly getting carried away with himself because he swore the gentleman down a ways looked…

  Terrell stopped abruptly in the middle of the walkway, heart dropping into his stomach as he realized the man he was staring at was Edlin. Why was he here early? Why had he not told Terrell? But that was silly. Very likely he had gone round to find him or had sent a note, but Terrell had been gone all afternoon.

  Well, no matter. He would be beyond delighted to see Terrell now. Smiling, his heart beating rapidly with renewed excitement, he resumed his walking and darted into the street, opening his mouth to call out—

  And then Edlin moved forward with a bright smile on his face as someone descended the carriage that had stopped nearby. A breathtaking beautiful man. His hair was as dark as Edlin's, but his face was almost delicate, like he was some fairy prince painted by a whimsical artist. Nearly as tall as Edlin, he was slender to the point of being unfashionably skinny. His clothes were of the finest quality: rich greens trimmed in gold and brown boots polished to a meticulous shine. The man laughed at something Edlin said and leaned up to kiss his cheek—a kiss that Edlin returned, before offering his arm and leading the man into the restaurant in front of which he had been waiting.

  Terrell stood there, unable to move, and ignored the swearing and shouting thrown at him for being in the way. An explanation, he thought miserably, desperately. There had to be a logical explanation—one that he liked, with which he could live, that did not cut like a knife. But he could not find one. A friend? Maybe. Yes, that was it. Merely a close friend. Edlin had come to the city a day early and when he could not find Terrell, he'd decided to meet a friend for lunch. He probably intended to seek Terrell out again in a couple of hours. Terrell would go back to his rooms and there would be a note waiting for him.

  Terrell made himself walk, but only because he refused to succumb to the urge to run and look a perfect fool. There was nothing wrong with Edlin meeting someone for lunch. He must meet people for lunch all the time—business acquaintances, family, friends. It was perfectly reasonable.

  It seemed to take hours to reach his rooms at school and Terrell finally gave in to the urge to run as he reached the stairs, bolting up and going straight for his box—only to find it empty. Frowning, he went back downstairs and spoke with the doorman. "Has anyone come by to see me, Fred?"

  "No, Mr. Wingard. It's been quiet as a church all day. Expecting someone or something?"

  Terrell shook his head. "No, sorry to trouble you. Thank you." Not staying to hear any reply, he went back upstairs to his room and again checked his box, only to find it still empty. Well, then it was likely that that Edlin hadn't bothered to leave a note; he had probably not wanted to interrupt Terrell, if he was busy with school.

  Yes, Terrell decided, that had to be it. Edlin would come see him. Terrell shook himself. He would be practical. Edlin's world did not revolve around him and Terrell had no business overreacting to what was no doubt a completely harmless lunch between friends.

  Nodding to himself, Terrell removed his coat, hat, and gloves and put them away. He took out his gift and admired it one more time, smile shaky but still bright. Edlin would love it when Terrell gave it to him tomorrow.

  For the present, Terrell had schoolwork to do. Making himself tuck the gift away in his jacket again, Terrell went to fetch his books and papers, before settling in and burying himself in schoolwork until the growling of his stomach finally forced a halt. He glanced up at the clock and realized he'd been working for nearly six hours—he had distracted himself even better than he had realized.

  Dinnertime and Edlin still had not come 'round or sent a note, but Terrell refused to be upset. Maybe Edlin had come early to get some work done and kept it quiet so as not to be distracting. That had to be it. Really, he needed to stop behaving like an idiot. There was a reasonable explanation for it all. Letting his imagination get away from him, making up wild assumptions, would gain him nothing.

  Terrell tried to go back to studying, but his concentration was well and truly gone. Until he knew what Edlin was doing, he conceded miserably, there was no way he would act like himself. He threw down his pen in disgust and stood up, deciding to go find a decent meal; food would settle him, let him think clearly. Tomorrow he would see Edlin and mention seeing him, and all would be well.

  So why, Terrell wondered, angry and miserable, was he not believing a single word? He was being stupid and knew it, so why could he not calm down and let it go, and just wait for Edlin to give him an explanation?

  Because, he conceded miserably, Edlin was older, handsome, smart, charming, better known, and more popular than he let on. It would be a little strange if Edlin did not keep a lover—why shouldn't he? And their's was only an arranged marriage; there was no expectation of—of anything but whatever went into the contract. Fidelity in marriage was so uncommon it was considered a charming eccentricity by most. Terrell would be naïve—downright foolish—to expect any such thing from Edlin, who clearly had a colorful life that extended well beyond the remote lands of Fivecoats.

  Never in his life had Terrell wanted so desperately to hit something.

  Storming out of his room, he left campus and stalked down the street, then down two more blocks to his club, leaving his things with the footman at the door before going down the hall to the dining room.

  "Terri!"

  He whipped around at the sound of his name, spoken by a voice he hadn't heard in two weeks. Kirian smiled and beside him Thiering nodded politely. But in the next moment, Kirian's smile vanished. "Terri, what's wrong?"

  "N-nothing," Terrell said, then repeated more forcefully, "Nothing. I've been studying too long. It's good to see you." He meant it, more than even he'd realized until he'd said the words. Kirian was his best friend and that would never change. "I'm sorry. You—you two look h-happy."

  Kirian's frown only deepened and he looked at Thiering, some private conversation exchanged between them. He threw an arm around Terrell's shoulders and led him off down the hall to one of the private rooms. Once there, he shoved Terrell down into a chair. "Damn it, Terri. You look a mess. What the bloody hell is wrong?"

  Terrell frowned at his hands and repeated, "Nothing. I'm simply overreacting. Everything will be fine come morning."

  "Do not make me beat the problem out of you," Kirian threatened, taking Terrell's hands. He started to speak, but then the door opened and Thiering appeared with a footman in tow bearing a tray of drinks and light repast.

  When the servant was gone, Kirian poured a measure of brandy and handed it to Terrell. "Tell me, Terri, or I swear I will beat it out of you."

  "I saw Edlin on Winding Row," Terrell finally said, the words spilling out. "He said he was coming tomorrow. He-he-he was with—with someone, and they seemed to be close. I'm being stupid, aren't I? It's probably nothing. Of course it's nothing and it wouldn't matter if it was something—" He shut up, realizing how pathetic he must sound, and took a swallow of brandy.

  "His little actor," Thiering said, tone flat.

  Hearing his worst fears confirmed, Terrell crumpled, lowering his head and staring at his brandy. He was unable to think of anything, able only to replay that awful scene on Winding Row. How happy Edlin had looked, the affectionate kiss, how beautiful the younger man had been.

  "What are you talking about?" Kirian demanded.

  Thiering sighed and sat down. "It's old gossip and I thought completely false now that Courtright is engaged to Wingard. He could not have ever expected to make so fine a match—his family must be beyond ecstatic. Any smart man would discard a seamy actor the very moment the engagement was announced, if he did not have the sense to do it much sooner. I can scarcely believe he is still taking up with the man."

  "What actor?" Terrell asked, feeling hollow, numb. He had known better than to let himself get smitten; such thi
ngs were impractical. Nothing good ever came from letting oneself become ruled by emotion.

  "His name is Pierre Horton and he is one of the most popular actors in theatre. He excels at tragic roles and also has a bit of notoriety for playing female parts exceptionally well. Many a person has tried to be his patron, but they say for the last decade he had refused all of them and takes up exclusively with Courtright."

  Terrell had not thought anything could hurt more than what he had just learned—but ten years? An entire decade; he could not compete with that. He was just…just a foolish scholar with a prize estate he could not run—prime pickings for a man looking for his own kingdom. Edlin was six years his senior and excelled at all of the things Terrell preferred to avoid. Of course he had a lover.

  So why all of the gifts? All of the letters, rife with words sweet and thrilling? Why did Edlin act like he cared if he already had a lover? It was not as though Terrell had ever been anything but amenable to the marriage. He had never needed Edlin to court him. Seduce him.

  Not that he'd had to try very hard, and gods, how gullible and pathetic he felt now. Stupid, to ever believe someone like Edlin had ever really wanted someone like him. Were he and his actor laughing at how easy it was for Edlin to seduce the silly little lordling?

  He really was the most pathetic creature in existence, because even now, when he knew it was hopeless, all he wanted was to go back to when he'd thought Edlin loved him back.

  Love. Terrell hadn't actually thought it, but it had obviously been there for some time. He had a great deal of temerity to lecture Kirian on love and haste when he was at least as great a fool. Greater, really, because it was obvious Kirian's lover was steadfast.

  Terrell's…Terrell's was a businessman with a lover of ten years.

  Unable to bear it a moment longer, wanting only to be alone with his misery, Terrell stood up. "I-I'm going home. I'll see Edlin tomorrow and—and address it then. Have a good night." He stood up and pushed past Kirian when he rose to stop Terrell's leaving.

  Outside, he could not run fast enough—did not even care if he was making a spectacle of himself, did not stop until he had reached his building and bolted up the stairs to his room. Once there, he did not slow, but went on straight into his bedroom and threw himself onto the bed.

  The scene would not stop playing over and over in his mind—how happy Edlin and Pierre had been to see such other, that affectionate kiss, how bloody beautiful Pierre the fucking actor was. Terrell balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into his pillow—then he just lay there, completely lost as to what he was supposed to do. Nothing, he supposed. Their marriage was arranged; it was never meant to be anything more than a business arrangement. He would have to accept that.

  But all Terrell could remember was how attentive Edlin had been right from the start, how it had felt to know Edlin had come to the city that first time solely to see him, to seduce him. Had he already seen his actor at that point? Had he meant a single word of what he'd said? Why had he not simply been honest? But Terrell had already been over all this.

  Sighing, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, staring at the floor as he tried to decide what to do with the rest of the night. Studying was a lost cause, but he had nothing else to do. He had cleared his entire schedule to be certain he would have time aplenty to spend with Edlin.

  Now just the thought of seeing him turned Terrell's stomach. What would he say? What would he do? Pretend all was well? He wouldn't be able to manage that, and even if he could, Edlin had an uncanny ability to read him. Should he try to pretend all was well, it would last only a matter of minutes before Edlin had the truth out of him.

  What would Edlin say? Would he lie? Bluster? Or worse still, calmly explain that of course he had a lover, why would Terrell be upset about such a common practice? And Terrell hated that he did care, that he had gone from viewing the marriage as a practical business arrangement to being hopelessly in love and wanting their marriage to be more than a convenience.

  That would teach him to deviate from practicality.

  Dread roiled in Terrell's stomach as he tried to work out what he would say, but every conversation in his head just fell apart. He wanted Edlin to say that there was no lover and never would be because he had Terrell. But why would he? As it stood, he had Fivecoats and Pierre. Terrell could compete with neither, and he had just enough self-respect left not to try.

  Terrell stood and went to his wardrobe to change into evening wear. He would go out, do something—anything.

  A play, whispered the back of his mind, and he froze as the idea took hold. He could go and see a play. See up close the man he had never stood a chance against. He was being stupid, the practical side of his mind tried to point out, but Terrell simply did not care.

  Shoving one jacket back into the wardrobe, Terrell brought out another of black velvet that was more appropriate for a trip to the theatre. He picked up the discarded jacket and felt the weight of the gift he had bought Edlin. He hesitated a moment, tempted for a moment to throw the damn thing away, but in the end, he could only take it out and slip it into the jacket he was wearing. He was a fool.

  Half an hour later, Terrell was back outside and headed off campus, hailing a cab to take him across town to the Belton Theatre. Someone shoved a program into his hand as he stepped inside and he read it over reflexively, his gut wrenching as he saw the lead character was indeed played by none other than Pierre Horton.

  Taking the program and paying for his ticket, Terrell shoved his way through the crowds to his seat. When his parents had lived in the city, they had kept a box because his mother had loved the theatre and his father had loved to indulge her. But after his mother had died, his father had stopped attending the theatre and no longer kept the box. Just as well, since Terrell would not have used it anyway.

  Was Edlin attending? He resisted the impulse to look around, afraid of being seen himself. Stifling a sigh, he found a seat wedged between a woman who smelled of sweat and cheap perfume, and a man who smelled as though he thought bathing an eccentricity to be avoided.

  If this was what being impractical did to a man, then it was all to the good that the entire affair was reminding him why he was so staunchly a practical man. Desperate for distraction, he looked again at the program and read over the summary of the play. A tragedy, as Kirian and Evelyn had said. He recognized the tale, but only vaguely. Theatre had never been one of his interests, since there were far better ways to spend his time. Was Edlin fond of theatre, then? He had never mentioned it when they spent a day doing all manner of such things. But then again, it was obviously an aspect of his life which he would have no interest in sharing with his husband. Terrell looked up before he could catch himself, glancing around at the boxes surrounding the theatre…

  There he was. Terrell stared, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. Even at a distance in a dim theatre half-filled with smoke from cheap cigars and cigarettes, Edlin was beautiful. He wore evening finery, black from head to toe and trimmed in white, the sparkle of diamonds occasionally glinting. He spoke to someone beside him, mouth curved in a smile that Terrell recognized as the one he used for business. Most of his attention was on the stage—

  And then everyone was making a ruckus, as the curtains went up and the play began.

  Pierre was, as Terrell had been told, magnificent. He lit up the stage, captured the audience, drew them into the story and made the rest of the world vanish. If he was not so caught up in his own misery, Terrell did not doubt he too would have been enthralled. As it was, he just curled in on himself, oblivious even to the foul-smelling people on either side of him. He was painfully aware of everything Pierre was that he was not. Why would Edlin have any real interest in a quiet, boring scholar when he'd been with this beautiful, vibrant man for the past ten years?

  Although he wanted nothing more than to flee, Terrell forced himself to sit through the entirety of the play. Couldn't Pierre stumble? Stutter? Do somethi
ng to be a little less bloody perfect? Why did he have to choose Edlin? Someone so beautiful and skilled must receive countless offers from people far more powerful and affluent—why must he be smart enough to know he could do no better than Edlin? Ten years. They must be deeply, madly in love. No one kept an affair going that long.

  Coming here had been a stupid idea, but at least Terrell was not so far lost to impracticality that he would do something stupid, such as attempt to break that bloody perfect nose or, or—oh, he did not even know what he would do. Such things were not his style. He preferred to handle his problems quietly and logically. He was not Kirian, who would have leapt up on stage and broken Pierre's nose with ease, then gone on to fight everyone else who came at him. He would have been dragged away bloody, bruised, and his feelings on the matter loudly and clearly stated. Terrell could only hide in the shadows and think about doing such foolish things, while making himself sick with dread anticipating the conversation that he would be having with Edlin in the morning. So much for handing over his gift and allowing Edlin to drag him to bed for hours upon hours.

  How would Terrell handle it at Fivecoats? But he knew the answer—he would bury himself in his work, emerging only to handle those affairs at Fivecoats that required his attention, and pretend not to care when Edlin went into the city on business. Practical, he reminded himself. He would be practical about the matter and leave off all this frivolous, impractical behavior in which he had stupidly indulged.

  To his relief, the play finally came to an end, and everyone stood up to applaud the actors and call for Pierre, who briefly appeared for his own accolades. Eventually people started to move and Terrell was able to slowly weave his way through the crowds. It seemed to take an age and he would need a bath when he got home. His clothes reeked of cheap cologne, sweat, smoke, and far too many people crammed into a small space.