marlowemuses | The One Secret I Never Told You

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The One Secret I Never Told You

Ronan was coming home.

He'd sent ahead, Adam supposed. Letter or telegram. And he'd said... what? Adam had no idea. No one had even bothered to tell him. He'd overheard some of the other servants discussing preparations.

That stung, though it shouldn't. He'd always known that their childhood friendship was temporary. Illusory. He'd been a bauble to Ronan, a friendship that came easily and could be cheaply kept.

And when Ronan had been old enough, he'd left. That made sense, too. His father's death, the upheaval of his life, the culmination of the conflict between Ronan and Declan.

What hurt was that he hadn't needed Adam anymore.

Squeaks and whispers preceded the general bustle of servants toward the main hall. Adam stayed out of the way, stealing toward an upper window to catch a glimpse. He wouldn't be missed among the larger array of servants. He was only an under-footman, after all.

Hidden behind a lace curtain, Adam peeked out to watch as Ronan descended from the coach. He'd grown. Taller than Adam remembered. His charming black curls were gone, shorn to a short bristle. The man he'd become was someone handsome and commanding, drawing attention like a thunderstorm.

Adam's heart thudded, then clenched.

Oh.

He'd hoped, all those years, that ignoring his childhood crush would make it go away. That Ronan's distance would make Adam forget him, so that he could focus once and for all on his career. His career, which was the only thing that mattered. The only thing he had left.

Seeing Ronan brought it all back, with more intensity than ever.

Adam was in love with him. And always had been.

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Coming home was bittersweet.

Mostly bitter. As soon as the coach broke past the tall, wrought iron gate that separated the Lynch property from the rest of the world, the bigger memories began to pool in. His father's murder. His mother falling into a coma out of depression. And, worst of all, his fucking brother acting like his keeper. It had been too much. Ronan had left, shaved his head, and threw himself into drinking and horse racing. Brawls had been an almost nightly occurrence. He'd even gotten a tattoo across the entirety of his back, one Declan didn't even know about yet, black ink of celtic knots and feathers, bloodied talons and blooming flowers (for his mother).

There was only one bright spot in his memories. His childhood friend; the child of some of the servants who had eventually been made his companion. The boy that had triggered what was Ronan's so-called awakening—that he was exclusively attracted to men. His childhood love had been intense and he'd been ashamed of it at the time, not knowing how to handle his feelings for the other boy, but it wasn't something he'd had ever been able to pursue when he came of the proper age. Not when his father's head had been bludgeoned in, corpse found in one of the farther fields on their property.

Stepping out of that coach, Ronan studied the expanse of faces. Mostly servants. Some he recognized, some he did not. His childhood friend was nowhere to be seen. It was disappointing, but his disappointment didn't show on his features. They were already hard, lips thin and tilted downward in a constant frown, creases around his eyes from furrowing his brow. There was none of the joy he had in his childhood. That Ronan was gone with the curls and Niall Lynch.

It took only seconds for Delcan Lynch to come thundering down himself, another study of the handsome Lynch genes, though Ronan had far more of his fathers devilishly good looks. They fought instantly. Declan tried to grab Ronan by the upper arm and Ronan shot him a look and shoved him away, cursing. The staff remained still. By himself, Ronan walked up the path to the house, while Declan smoothed his hair and shot the staff a smile. "It's fine," he promised, exuding charm and a dazzling smile.

Ronan stopped at the front door, holding his satchel, and then turned to regard his brother with a cold look. "Where's Adam?"

Declan looked confused for a good minute before blinking in remembrance. "Oh, that one. He was your personal servant when you were here last, I remember." Ronan glared, "No," but Delcan ignored him, clapping his hands together.

"Someone go get that footman. My brother wants him to carry his things."

Ronan opened his mouth again to sharply say no, but it didn't matter. Delcan wasn't listening.

Adam didn't linger long beside the window. He didn't dare. If he was caught wasting time, he'd be harshly scolded.

There were chamber pots still to be emptied and scrubbed, and wainscoting to be polished. Adam worked twice as hard as any of the other servants, and was still criticized most harshly when he failed. The butler, head of the house's servants, attributed Adam's failures to a soft upbringing, being coddled like he was one of the nobility. Adam's father attributed it to him being a waste of food and a worthless shit.

He knew that he should leave, but didn't expect much better treatment in any other house. Not if he couldn't provide good references. Not if he couldn't earn some favor or promotion here.

Besides, part of him had always been waiting for Ronan.

A maid came running to fetch him, out of breath. "Mr Lynch wishes for you to carry his bags. Quickly, now!"

Ronan had asked for him. Adam's heart skipped a beat, though he understood that he was being asked to serve only in the capacity of luggage handler. He'd been asked after in recognition of his service as Ronan's companion as a child, which was more courtesy than could be expected toward a servant.

Making his way quickly downstairs, Adam kept his eyes averted as he went to fetch Ronan's bags. He offered no greeting, since it would be presumptuous of him to speak directly to someone so far above his station.

Adam had also grown. He'd become tall, though not so tall as Ronan, and his face had taken on a sharp, underfed prettiness. His long dark hair was tidily bound at the nape of his neck with a leather strap, and his dark eyes were downcast and sorrowful. A tattered gray suit hung on his frame, ill-fitting and frequently patched. It had been a cast-off from one of the upper servants, years ago.

Ronan stood up straighter when Adam approached, heart quickening in his chest at seeing his childhood love grown. He was—beautiful. Age had treated him well. Tall with delicate features, and thick lovely hair, even if it was pulled back away from his face. Yet there hung an air of melancholy around him that had not been there before. The clothes he was wearing didn't suit him. Didn't fit. Ronan opened his mouth and then closed it, knowing better than to say something to embarrass his old friend in front of all of the servants.

Declan clapped his hands again and the servants began to get to work. Cleaning the coach, running off to prepare a feast for Ronan's homecoming, cleaning, readying Ronan's old rooms. Ronan's gaze lingered on Adam. On the young man that had been so vibrant. Now he was...

Ronan approached his brother, snarling. "What the fuck, Declan? Why is he like this?"

Declan looked confused again. "What? The footman? We've treated him well. He's got a job and we deal with his many faults kindly. What's the issue?"

Ronan gave his brother a savage look and then stepped away, not even wanting to explain. Declan wouldn't understand.

What the fuck had happened? When he left, he had assumed that Adam would continue to receive the education and care he had gotten with Ronan. Niall Lynch would have made sure—...

That thought stopped him cold. Niall Lynch would have made sure his son's friend was taken care of. Declan? Declan didn't give half a shit. All that mattered was that he had someone to shine his shoes and lead his one night stands out of the mansion before he woke up in the morning.

Lips pressed thinly together, Ronan caught up to Adam with steady strides, eyes gone ice cold with his thoughts.

"I'm not staying in my old room," he said stiffly, rage surging through his system, though he refused to take it out on Adam in any way. "Take my bags out to the back barns." It was a place they'd played as children, with a loft that one of the old farm hands used to stay in before he passed. It was still useable as a room. If he furnished it, it would be fine. The old man had been a favorite of his father's and a bathroom had been built for the loft, as well as weather protection and heating.

Declan would despise his living there. Perfect.

Adam couldn't hear the words that passed between Ronan and his brother, though he was attentive enough to notice the anger that radiated off of Ronan.

Gossip among the servants held that Ronan blamed Declan for their father's death, so that made sense.

Adam paused as his master approached him. Every hair in his body rose on end, utterly alert to Ronan's every word, every expression. "Yes, sir," he murmured, mind already racing ahead to the things they'd need to do to prepare the barn loft for residence. He could think of everything, and do it to Ronan's taste, but that would be fruitless if the other servants wouldn't listen to Adam's ideas.

His eyes flicked up, briefly, to Ronan, then back to the carriage. No valet or attendant had come with him. Nor had one been sent ahead. In Declan's household, he would need one.

Adam's quick mind and sharp ambition seized on the opportunity.

"Does my lord wish me to serve as his personal valet?" he suggested, as if he was only clarifying something which had been Ronan's intent all along. It would be a substantial increase in position, and it would allow him the authority he needed to ensure Ronan's comfort.

In addition to which, it would require him to be frequently in close proximity to Ronan.

Truthfully, Ronan hadn't even been thinking about valets or servants of his own. No doubt Declan would have figured that and sent some of the maids that were in his pocket to go spy on his brother. Ronan had spent so much time passed out drunk in churches, alone, that having someone attend to his needs was as old and distant a memory as his father was.

So when Adam mentioned serving as Ronan's valet, he blinked. It was a good idea. This way he could keep an eye on Adam and make sure no one treated him poorly. There wasn't anything he could do about the past. The future, however?

Ronan nodded. "If you would. I don't trust anyone else here." That was the truth. Ronan knew they would gossip and share his private information with Declan, if Declan didn't already have them on the job. "I'll need the loft furnished and checked for rodents. And, as my valet, I'll need you close. We can arrange for a new room to be built in the barn if you'd like. But if you'd rather stay in the ..."

He drifted, wondering just where Adam was sleeping now. When they were children they slept together in Ronan's rooms. Now? Ronan suspected that Adam slept on the kitchen floor with some of the other lower servants.

Clearing his throat, he changed tracks. "If you have a preference for somewhere else, I can have that arranged." The trek to the Barns was muddy, though Ronan cared not at all about muddying his leather shoes or expensive pants.

"What's been going on here since I left? I imagine that Declan has been a savage prick."

"I'll be of best service to you if I stay close," Adam agreed, eyes averted. His posture was strictly erect, shoulders back and spine straight, and close scrutiny would easily reveal the lonely misery in his face.

Ronan was standing on Adam's bad side, so he had to struggle to make sense of Ronan's words, but he couldn't dare reveal that. A damaged servant was worthless.

"Perhaps I might tell my lord what I know once he has settled in a bit?" Adam suggested, all too aware of the eyes lingering on them, judging Adam for being too friendly and conversational with one of the masters of the house. "It will take some time to prepare your new rooms."

It made Adam's heart pound to be so close. The hollow of Ronan's throat drew his eyes. He wondered how the skin there would taste.

Every inch of Adam was completely formal and Ronan hated every minute. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They had been friends, and Ronan... Ronan had loved him, even if he never had the chance to pursue it. From the ache that was building in his chest from Adam's appearance to his behavior, it hurt to realize that it was all too likely that Ronan loved him still. There had been no one else.

Well. There had been one flirtation, one that hadn't gone anywhere either, but Joseph Kavinsky was a different animal all together. Their parting had been ... a little rough, and Kavinsky hadn't seemed over it. It wasn't likely they would see each other again, though, so Ronan wasn't concerned about the things Kavinsky had sworn.

Ronan had to keep his eyes off of Adam lest he stare. So his gaze was focused ahead, steady and fierce like the animal he'd become. "I don't care," he said, "if Declan hears that we're talking shit about him. He's awful. Only thing he was good for back when I was a kid was managing money, but I wouldn't be surprised if he spent it all on whatever woman he's trying to snatch a virtue from." It disgusted him, how loose his brother was. Yet Declan wasn't about to change his ways. Just like Ronan wasn't about to change his.

But he didn't press. If Adam was worried, whatever he was worried about, Ronan wouldn't try to stress it. So he merely shrugged and continued to the Barns, relaxing once they were far from enough from the mansion. He had always preferred the animals they kept rather than the house.

There was a horse out for grazing. Ronan approached him and rubbed his nose gently, pressing a kiss between the colt's eyes. Animals always got sweetness from him.

"What happened, Adam?"

"I would be loathe to speak ill of one of my employers, sir," Adam murmured in response to the suggestion of talking shit about Declan, hoping that Ronan would get the hint that while he was free to say whatever he liked about his brother, Adam had none of the same liberties.

He trailed after him, carrying Ronan's bags and trying to ignore the weight and his own fatigue. When Ronan kissed the horse, Adam had to look away. He wanted so badly that it hurt.

What happened? You left. You left me.

"I don't know what to tell you, sir," Adam said, glad that they were alone but dropping none of his obsequiousness. "Your brother continues in good health and is pursuing the heart of a wealthy young lady. Your friend the young Lord Gansey prospers in both popularity and wealth, and is much sought after as an eligible bachelor. He informs me that Miss Blue was arrested again last week and is in high spirits about the matter, and planning to partake in another suffragette demonstration in the upcoming week."

"Not about them," he said stubbornly, though he was happy to hear that Gansey was doing well. They had wrote to each other on occasion, actually, but Gansey never made mention of Adam in his letters. Much as Ronan had considered asking, he had decided not to, in the end. Blue, on the other hand, he hadn't cared too much about. Whatever romantic business that was going on involving her, he had usually made it his business to not know. But she was an asshole, one of the finest, and he respected that much. She was the only one of his so-called peers that also got arrested. There was solidarity in that.

"You. What the fuck did Declan do?" Of course, he was quick to blame Declan, though the fact that his leaving clearly had an impact on his friend wasn't lost on him. Ronan finally turned his intense gaze on Adam, making unrelenting and unforgiving eye-contact with the other man.

"This wasn't what I wanted. I didn't think—I had thought they would keep treating you as they had before. I'm a fucking idiot, clearly."

Planning wasn't a strong suit of his when he was spiraling into near-suicidal depression. It was better than he wasn't here for his drunken nights, the brawls, dragging himself back to his room bloodied and furious.

Ronan pressed his lips together again. He knew very well why Adam didn't just leave; he needed a recommendation and reference. Declan, asshole he was, would never give one to a perfectly good servant. Adam withstood being treated like trash and worked hard. Ronan had always known that. No doubt it had only gotten worse. Why would Declan let him leave?

"I won't be staying long," he said, turning his attention back to the horse that was looking for another kiss. He gave it, again, between the eyes. The horse made a pleased sound.

"Maybe a few months. Be my valet during that time. When I leave, I'll write you the best recommendation a man can write. You'll be able to go anywhere you want."

Ronan glanced up at Adam again, his heart clenching. Anywhere meant away from Ronan, yes, but... he had no right to ask Adam to stay with him. Not after what he pulled. Ronan was honest, even with himself. He fucked up. Even if Adam was his first love, his current love, he deserved better.

"Does that sound like a fair deal?"

Adam didn't meet Ronan's eyes in return. He kept his gaze on Ronan's throat, face impassive while Ronan talked. The bags weighed on his aching arms, but he refused to set them down.

It meant a lot that Ronan cared at all, even if it hadn't occurred to him that Adam's position had been entirely dependent upon Ronan's presence. He wished, achingly, that Ronan would take him along, wherever he went, but the deal Ronan offered was the best thing that could happen to him, and it was fair, which meant Adam could accept it. Ronan wasn't offering charity. He was offering a job that Adam deserved, and a ticket out of this place.

"Yes," Adam said, eyes flicking up to Ronan's only briefly and then dropping away. A few months. At least he'd have that much time at Ronan's side, safe and with a measure of authority. He could actually stretch his wings a little and test out his skills in a position with some real responsibility. "It would be my pleasure. Thank you, sir."

"Ronan," he answered plainly, giving the horse one final pat before shoving his hands into his pockets. "At least, when we're alone, use my name. I don't like being called sir." Something Declan probably got off on.

"Let's go, then." He made his way toward the bigger barn where the loft was, pushing open the door and stepping inside. Despite being a barn it had a pleasant smell. Hay, and something sweet. Flowers. His mother used to plant flowers all around this area. Ronan was happy to see that they still bloomed.

"You can leave my bags down here. I'll carry them up to the loft." It was too much for Adam to carry. The man looked tired, and while Ronan knew better than to try and take them before getting here, there was no reason for Adam to stubbornly keep holding into them now. Some were light but others were heavy.

Stepping further inside, he hooked onto the ladder that lead up to the loft and began to climb. It was desolate, free of any furnishings whatsoever, but it was fairly clean and warm. Ronan lingered, brushing his fingers against the walls and looking out the window at the expanse of flowers and grass. The window faced away from the mansion. All the better.

Being back was bittersweet indeed.

"Will you tell me how things have been around here now?" he called, stepping over to the ledge to look down at his old friend.

Adam relaxed only the tiniest bit once they were safely inside. Maids would be coming soon with brooms and buckets to clean, fresh sheets and possibly a fresh mattress. Adam wanted to direct all of it, though he also needed to tend to Ronan himself.

"I don't know what else there is to tell," Adam said, leaving off the 'sir' with difficulty. "I have worked here as an under-footman since you left. My parents retain their former positions." That was going to be especially difficult, trying to give them orders in order to get what Ronan needed. "You'd be better off getting the news from your brother. There's very little that reaches my ears."

Setting down only one of the bags, Adam started up the ladder with the rest. He wasn't about to let Ronan carry his own bags, especially not if someone walked in on them. The servants would talk, and it would come down on Adam's head.

Ronan grumbled at that. He would prefer to wrestle an angry raccoon in a mud pit, while naked, than talk to his brother. However, Adam was right. Declan would know the state of affairs with the estate and the state of their mother. Though, he also supposed, Adam probably would have heard if she woke up. That would have sent the whole house running.

So he merely nodded, walking over to the ladder to offer Adam some help. Stubborn as always, yet Ronan was just as stubborn. "Shit, you're going to fall if you don't let me help," he frowned, "and then I'd have no valet. Gimme at least one or two."

There were voices echoing across the yard and Ronan knew they must be the maids that Declan sent to check up on him. They'd clean if they were told to, yes, but then they'd go running back to his brother, breathless, crying about how the young master was staying out in the Barns with the animals.

Ronan made a face. "I'll have to go talk to my brother," he grimaced. "I'd like it if you came with me."

Adam handed the bags up one by one, since Ronan was right about that part and it would be difficult to safely clear the top of the ladder with the bags he was carrying.

The loft already felt like it belonged to Ronan. Adam remembered playing in the barns as children, when things had been easier. The place still smelled the same, hay and horses, with a sweet breath of flowers from outside. He had missed this, and missed Ronan most of all.

At the sound of voices, his eyes flicked toward the door, but his attention returned quickly to Ronan and he nodded once, briefly. "Remember," he murmured, "that I belong to his household. Your brother is my employer, not you, and if he sees fit to turn me away, there's nothing you can do about it."

Not unless Ronan set up his own household, either as a bachelor in London or finally taking over the country estate that had been left to him. Adam knew the details of Ronan's situation, because he had listened attentively as a child when it had been explained to Ronan. Whenever he had a quiet moment inside his own mind, he spent it planning and daydreaming how he would set up and run a household for Ronan, as his valet, or steward, or butler.

Ronan made another face. "Or I can punch him in the goddamn face," he muttered with some heat, leaving the bags lined up against the wall. Again, Adam was right, and Ronan didn't like it one bit. Being under Declan's rules was already grating and he'd only been there for about ten minutes. It made him sick. Angry. It was tempting to punch the wall, break open the skin on his knuckles and relish the way the wound would throb—but he resisted, not wanting Adam to see him like that.

He'd get drunk later. That usually worked.

The maids stepped inside, still whispering to each other, and Ronan stepped over to the edge of the loft again. With a crisp, clear voice that was not to be argued with, he said, "I'll be staying here, in the loft, for the foreseeable future. Adam will oversee everything that needs to be done. You'll listen to him or you'll hear from me. And believe me, you don't want to hear from me."

The girls quieted, eyes wide as saucers at how intimidating the young master had become. Quickly, they nodded, hands folded in front of their skirts and eyes demurely facing down.

"I think you know what I want," he said, softly, for Adam's ears only.

Ronan gave Adam one last glance before sliding down the ladder, shoes crunching beneath scattered hay. The maids jumped at his sudden drop but otherwise stayed quiet.

"I'm going to step outside," he said, looking up, "to see the flowers. When you're done directing them, Adam, meet me there." He wouldn't stay and breathe over Adam's shoulder as he directed the girls as to what they were to do. He trusted Adam, and he wanted Adam to have a taste of that power without him there. So with one final nod at the maids he stepped out of the barn and around back to the little garden of flowers. They were more beautiful than he remembered.

Grateful for being put in charge, Adam descended the ladder with as much dignity as possible and began his instructions. One girl would stay and begin cleaning. The other was to return to the house for supplies and additional help. Fresh mattress, clean sheets and blankets, a mouser--he seemed to recall that one of their neighbors had recently had kittens?

Ronan would want to wash up from his journey, so he would need a working bath. The bath pump would need to be checked, and the water heater should be cleaned and repaired as necessary. The entire loft area should be scrubbed. The little iron stove would need to be cleaned out and supplied with fresh coal to warm the loft.

Satisfied with his orders, Adam went outside to report to his new master. "Everything is in order," he murmured, stepping to Ronan's side.

When Adam found him, Ronan was busy cradling a rose between his fingers. It was a purple rose, an oddity that his father had brought back for his mother after one of his many travels. The both of them delighted in seemingly impossible things. Purple roses had apparently made the list, and his mother had gotten seeds to grow some of her own. They reminded Ronan of her most of all.

His thumb traced along one of the wide petals with surprising tenderness. Velvety soft.

At Adam's voice, Ronan glanced up from his thoughts and gave a curt nod. "Time to deal with my brother, then." He did not sound the least bit excited about it. Standing straight and shoving his hands into his pockets, he began to stride back to the house, reluctant yet not willing to back down. Declan wouldn't get the better of him.

Though when the arrived in front of the door to Declan's study room, there was the undeniable giggle of a woman, and the murmur of a man. Ronan's face twisted up in disgust and he pounded on the door with an incredible ferocity. The woman gasped and there was the sound of clothes being hastily thrown on before the door opened and the maid rushed out, blushing and straightening her skirts as she rushed past them.

"You're disgusting," Ronan said, staring at his brother from the hallway. Declan, smoothing his hair back, shot his brother a look.

"You'd do yourself a favor to find a woman of your own," his brother said, leaning back in his office chair, behind his desk.

Ronan was quiet, not quite ready to parse that particular conversation with Declan—not in front of Adam, especially. "Come on, Adam," he said, stepping inside, "what are you going to need for the loft? Tell him. I forgot everything."

Declan looked confused, "The loft?"

"Sir," Adam said, stepping forward and remaining a half step behind Ronan. He kept Ronan on his good side so that he could hear better. "Mr Lynch has asked me to serve as his personal valet, and he would prefer to reside in the Barns so as to intrude less upon your household. I've begun making arrangements for Mr Lynch's comfort during his stay."

His heart was pounding with anxiety. He almost never had occasion to speak directly to the master of the house, being so far below him in authority that there were several rungs of reporting between them. Head ringing, he tried to think of what else he might need for Ronan's comfort.

Declan's mouth open and then closed, like a fish. Ronan grinned.

"No," Declan snarled, slamming his hands down on the desk. "What the fuck, Ronan? Sleeping in the damn barn like an animal? Always causing problems. Getting drunk, getting into brawls, horse racing and ruining our name wasn't enough for you? Now you're just outright downgrading to a beast. What's wrong with your old room?"

"I don't want to stay there," Ronan snarled right back, staring at his brother heatedly. The friction in the air between them was thick enough to be felt. "You wouldn't get it, Declan. If I'm not staying in the barn I'm fucking leaving. Take. Your. Goddamn. Pick."

The Lynch brothers stared at each other, ready to pounce like animals, salivating for the jugular. Then Declan rubbed his hands against his temples, sighing.

"Whatever he needs, see it's taken care of. Money is of no concern." Because, in the end, Declan Lynch would always choose having his brother near enough to have under his thumb. Even if it was in the barn.

"Sir," Adam said, and bowed. He took a step back, heart rabbiting in his chest, and hoped desperately that Ronan would leave with him. He felt distinctly unsafe here, vulnerable, in front of this man who had so much power over his life.

His breath had quickened by the time he reached the hallway, though he allowed no other outward sign of his panic. His deaf ear rang loudly and his head ached.

Ronan made to follow after Adam, but Declan stopped him.

"We need to talk about you managing the country estate," his brother said. "Not to mention going through dad's old things. We need to divide them up."

Ronan pressed his lips together. "Why do you think you managed to convince me to come back? We'll do it. But I've got no interest in the country estate. I'm here for what dad wanted me to have and then I'm gone."

Declan frowned yet said nothing more. Ronan left. Reaching the hallway, he stepped beside Adam, watching him carefully.

"Are you all right? Need to rest?"

Adam had a good constitution when they were kids but times had changed. He looked tired and worn now, like he'd seen far more than a young man should have. Ronan worried, but wasn't good at expressing it.

"You don't need to worry about me, sir," Adam said, closing his eyes briefly and then drawing himself up, restored to himself. "I'm ready to serve."

He glanced around them subtly, knowing that these hallways were nearly as hostile to Ronan as they were to Adam. The gossip was vicious, and Declan's household was not fond of Ronan, aside from the few older servants who had known him as a child. "Your rooms may not yet be clean. I ought to return and supervise the process. Is there anything else you require of me at the moment?"

Ronan watched Adam with sharp eyes, taking in the other man's state. There would be no making Adam rest now; too stubborn, prideful, he'd refuse and insist on working. Which was fine. It simply meant Ronan had to be more creative in getting him to relax a little.

"No," he said, finally looking away and down the hall. There was a shadow lingering; someone hiding around the corner and listening, but not realizing that their shadow betrayed them.

"No. You are dismissed."

Ronan hated what his brother had down to this house. Before, servants spying was a rare thing. Now? One had to watch their tongue lest Declan get wind of something. Not that Ronan cared about fighting his brother. Adam, on the other hand, was a different story.

"Thank you, sir." Bowing to Ronan, Adam retreated out to the Barns. There was plenty to do, and he wanted to personally manage as much of it as possible. Thankfully, the cleaning was underway, though with less enthusiasm than he would have liked.

He took command of the situation immediately, getting the servants to report on the maintenance of the place so that he could decide what to prioritize, what to clean, what to repair or replace. He arranged for a smaller pallet for himself to be placed in the corner, with thicker blankets than he'd ever had before.

Preparing a home for Ronan made him feel deeply satisfied. Even though he could never have the love he wanted from Ronan, he could at least have the pleasure of caring for him and making sure that everything was to Ronan's taste.

Ronan stood in the same spot as Adam retreated, and then wandered the halls. Halls of his childhood. It hurt, to think that he would never find his father walking them again. Back when Declan wasn't as much of an asshole, and his mother would float outside, happy to simply live life.

Eventually he made his way back to the Barns, chewing on a piece of meat bread that the cook had given him when he passed by the kitchen.

"How's it looking?" he asked Adam, glancing around as he strode inside. It looked and felt cleaner. "No huge rats nests, I hope." But if there was, maybe they could transport them to Declan's room. It was a satisfying thought.

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