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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Ronan dropped onto the bed beside Adam, strapping his arm across the other man's waist so that he couldn't get up.

"You won't," he said, confident in the privacy of the loft. There was only one way in, and the doors of the barn were not quiet. Then one had to climb the entire ladder in order to even get a good look.

Even more than that, he was willing to protect Adam. If he had to take blame, had to fight, he would. It was the least he could do after leaving him; even if Ronan hadn't been thinking clearly when he left, the sting of guilt was strong.

"Close your eyes. Get some rest."

Adam made a soft sigh as Ronan hugged close to him. He couldn't argue against this. Shifting in Ronan's arms, he kicked off his shoes, nestling back into Ronan's arms and spooning with him the way they had when they were children. He felt safe, safer than he had in years.

"I missed you," Adam murmured, sliding quickly down into sleep, breath evening out as he trusted himself to Ronan's protection.

The utterance of those sacred words had Ronan gripping Adam tighter. More like a lover and less like a friend. I missed you. No one else had said that to him. Even if they had, Ronan wouldn't have believed them. Declan hadn't missed him; Ronan was simply an annoyance, a smear on the family name. Almost all the old maids and servants were gone, replaced by younger and more eager to please ladies that all doted on Declan. Mother still was in her coma, a vision of beauty even wasting away for years.

"I missed you too," he murmured, but only when he thought Adam was asleep. So close to the other man, Ronan couldn't truly rest. Dozing was fine. Sleep had never come easy to him, anyway. It was better to study the way Adam's eyelashes curved gently against his cheek, to feel his chest rise and fall with easy breaths.

How could he be so fucking stupid, leaving Adam here with Declan as head of the house? But what else could he have done? Ronan had plunged head first into a terrible life style. Drinking every night, brawls almost as much. Coming back to his room bloodied and angry, depressed, hating almost everything. And then his fooling around with Kavinsky, getting into even more trouble because the other man reeked of it. Stolen horses and so much more. Not that Ronan ever did such things, but Kavinsky loved to tell him about it while draping an arm across his shoulders, speaking right up against his ear.

They stayed that way for two hours. Anything more and the maids would surely report their obvious absence. No breakfast or tea by noon? Declan might consider Ronan that lazy and hedonistic, but he would surely blame Adam for not kicking him in the ass.

So, leaning over Adam, Ronan brushed his hair back from his face.

"Hey. Feeling better?"

Adam stirred, still deeply tired and yearning to stay right where he was. He mumbled incoherently in response, shifting against Ronan.

As he woke, realizing where he was, Adam blushed deeply, sitting up and watching Ronan shyly. He still felt dizzy with exhaustion, better but still dazed after the nap. "Thank you," he murmured, eyes averted. "That was... nice."

Getting to his feet, Adam hurriedly smoothed down his own wardrobe, then went to help Ronan dress in fresh clothing. "Shall we eat in the main house? There will be less delay. Or we can go out, if you prefer."

Ronan rolled off the bed and stretched, allowing Adam to fuss as he wanted. Fresh clothing was a relief after spending a cold night in the crypt. "I always prefer what involves not seeing my brother," Ronan said flatly, not happy at the thought that he would have to see Declan two days in a row.

Stripping, he continued, "Let's go out. Is that old bakery still around? That one we liked when we were kids." The old people had been nice, treated them kindly, and, most importantly, equally. Ronan had received no special treatment from them. Hot buttered bread was given to them in the same amount—which was always generous.

"Declan won't miss me anyway. When he wants to see me, he'll come calling."

"And then he'll tell you all the things you're doing wrong," Adam said under his voice, with a little smirk toward Ronan as he allowed himself a tiny window of humor. "When will you do something useful with your life? Settle down, marry some heiress, manage some investments..."

Straightening Ronan's cravat, Adam took a step back, relatively satisfied with how the two of them looked, even though he was distinctly shabby standing next to Ronan.

Ronan snorted, "Shit, it's like he's really here. Giving me goosebumps." And then he laughed, shaking his head and lifting his chin to give Adam the room to fix his clothes. If it were Ronan's choice, he'd go out in much simpler clothes. Which, if Declan got wind, he'd have a fit. Some things weren't worth fighting his brother over.

"Oh," he said, as he studied Adam, "I forgot. I have something for you." Something he'd meant to give Adam as an outright gift, rather than the things he'd be sneaking into the other man's routine.

Stepping over to his trunk, he kneeled and unlocked it so he could do some digging. Standing once he finally had what he was looking for, he walked back over to Adam to shove the bundle into his arms.

It was a coat. Brown and ankle length with handsome dark brown buttons, with a collar that sat flat but could be raised to cover the neck. Nothing fancy yet certainly not shabby, tailored to fit sleek against the body and flare at the bottom.

"I wore it a few times. Doesn't fit me as good as I thought it would," he shrugged. "If you like it, it's yours."

"Thank you for the hand cream," Adam said, as he watched Ronan search through his trunk. He itched to unpack it and see to mending Ronan's wardrobe, but as long as Ronan was insisting he serve as companion, it was much harder to get his work done. "I appreciate it very much."

He fidgeted, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. The skin was still red and chapped, dry enough that the soothing cream stung when he applied it.

"Thank you," Adam said, eyes widening slightly. It was perfectly normal for nobles to pass off their old clothes to their servants, and Adam had often worn Ronan's cast-offs when Ronan outgrew them.

The coat fit him well, though it was too loose. Adam's brow furrowed slightly, suspicious. "Wouldn't it have been too tight on you?" he asked. It might fit Adam well if he continued eating the way he did with Ronan, but Ronan's shoulders were significantly broader.

At the comment about the hand cream Ronan just grunted, as little embarrassed, but pleased that Adam had liked it. That it would help his hands.

And he was pleased again when he saw Adam's face at the coat. He would have gotten something thicker and more elaborate, but he didn't know how much Adam would like it or how much his tastes would have changed... though it seemed his tastes now were far less refined than he imagined they would be. Putting it nicely.

Ronan shrugged at Adam's suspicion, "I was drunk, the salesman said it looked good on me, I bought it. Didn't really hit me that I couldn't move my arms until I sobered up." Which was true. He had, in fact, put it on and was complimented on its good looks, though he was trying it on to see if it would be comfortable enough for Adam. It had some nice padding and would be good for cold weather.

"Let's get going. Before Declan shows his mug and ruins my good mood." Hopping down the side of the loft, he slid on his way down, cheerful, shooting Adam a boyish grin.

"Let's skip the coach."

"If we take the coach," Adam pointed out, putting on the new coat and heading down the ladder after Ronan, "Declan will think we're going somewhere respectable, and he won't bother us about it later. Besides which, if you're going to keep me busy as your companion, I want to give orders to have your trunk unpacked and your clothes cleaned and mended."

He stepped up to Ronan's side, ready to obey or follow his lead, but a little more relaxed about being Ronan's companion rather than his servant. It felt almost like things were back to normal. Back to the way they had been years ago. At least until Ronan left again.

Ronan rolled his eyes at the mention of Declan. Adam was right, he knew, but he didn't like it. His brother would nose around his business either way, but if he went in the coach, it was less likely that he'd be naggy about it.

Sighing, "Fine, we'll take the coach." Which meant that they were headed toward where the coaches were kept rather than the main road. It was disappointing that they'd have to drag a driver along with them, but it could be worse.

When Adam mentioned his belongings, Ronan turned his eyes on the other man. No, he didn't relish the thought of the maids pawing through his belongings, reporting everything he found to Delcan. And they would.

"I don't trust anyone else," he said flatly. "There are some things I'd rather not have Declan know about."

Adam nodded. "When we get back, then." He'd do it himself. He'd find a way. That and the chapel which needed cleaning. And arranging for Ronan's meals and needs. Without ever leaving his side.

When they reached the stables, Adam gave orders for one of the coaches to be readied for them, knowing enough to request the unmarked coach that didn't require a footman.

He noticed a few curious eyes on his new coat, but didn't expect any comments about it. If he was serving as Ronan's personal valet and companion, he'd be expected to be presentable.

Ronan noticed the looks as well, though he did a very good job of ignoring them. There would be gossip, later, but it would be mild. It wasn't strange for a servant to inherent some clothes; it just happened that this coat looked to be brand new. He stood stoic as he waited for the coach to be brought, no longer exuding the laughter or friendliness he'd done with Adam before. These were all Declan's people.

Some of the maids tried to fuss over Ronan but he swatted them away, diving into the coach once it was brought out, much to their surprise.

"Where is the young master going?" asked one maid, smiling at Adam in a charming way she never had before and batting her eyelashes. "It must be somewhere very important."

"Mr Lynch desires to go out to luncheon," Adam said, giving her a polite smile and then climbing into the carriage opposite Ronan. He kept his eyes lowered, utterly silent and obedient until the carriage moved out into the public streets. Then he glanced up at Ronan, attention lingering for a moment before glancing away again.

Being held by Ronan like that felt... different, now that they were adults. Intimate. Adam didn't want to think about it too much. He knew that his perspective was tainted by how much he wanted. He'd been born a servant and raised like a nobleman. It had given him longing for a life--and a love--he could never have.

Ronan stared out the window of the coach as they set off. He hadn't missed being manhandled. When it was Adam, it was different. Having the maids touch him? That was a different story.

As the coach went, people looked to see who was inside. That was when Ronan stared straight ahead rather than out the window. He hated that, too. People looking at him. Expecting the perfect son of Niall Lynch.

He wanted to ask Adam the things his brother put him through, but it was too personal. While he wanted to know he didn't want to make Adam uncomfortable. There was a distance between them, one from both time and status. Would things have been different if Ronan had stayed?

It was quiet until they arrived in front of the bakery. It smelled delicious, and since it was past morning, the breakfast rush had died down. Stepping out of the coach, Ronan smiled a small, genuine smile.

"This brings back memories. Remember when we got sick from eating too many pastries?"

Adam held the door for him as they got out, eternally conscious of how they would be seen.

Ronan was on his bad side, and his brow flickered briefly with confusion because he didn't hear the whole question and couldn't make sense of it. Something about pastries? He nodded and gave Ronan a smile, then moved ahead to hold the next door for him. The bakery was warm inside, and had done well enough over the years to have expanded into a little cafe, where they served tea, coffee, and their memorable pastries.

Adam's mouth watered with hunger, thinking of coffee and cinnamon rolls, both luxuries that he hadn't had in years.

Ronan's mouth watered too. Jesus, did it bring back memories. Standing with their faces at the counter, eager to taste the freshest pastry. It was nice and quiet because it was between breakfast and lunch; only a few older ladies were picking up a few things. Most of the tables were free.

Stepping up to the counter, he pressed his palms down against it. It felt small. When he was young, it had seemed so huge.

"I'll take a coffee," he ordered, "and a few of those rolls. Chocolate, cinnamon, raspberry, peach... and a few of those, whatever those are." Turning to Adam, he grinned, "What do you want?"

"One of the cinnamon rolls," Adam said, taking care to remain so that he had Ronan on his good side. "And coffee. Thank you."

He kept his eyes averted as they settled into their table, even though at the quiet bakery they had some privacy and the owners remembered him as Ronan's companion. He felt uncertain and embarrassed, being neither Ronan's friend nor his servant.

Grateful for his pastry, Adam nibbled at it, trying to just enjoy this moment while he had it.

Ronan hunkered down with his coffee and huge pile of pastries. Having skipped breakfast and gotten drunk the night before, he was starving, and sweets always helped with a hangover. Biting into one of the rolls with boyish glee, he watched Adam from across the table. Stared. Ronan had always been one for staring and uncomfortable amounts of eyecontact, usually when he wanted something, but there was nothing he wanted from Adam. He only wanted to look. Study. Remember.

Washing down the chocolate croissant with coffee, he leaned back in his chair.

"I like this better," he said, "than being at the estate." Finally looking away, he glanced out the window. "Simple. It feels good." Just having coffee at a bakery. He didn't have his brother's desire to manage a full household of people, to live in the heart of the city, or mingle among the upperclass.

Adam nodded slightly, eating his cinnamon roll with slow, reverent bites in between sips of coffee. The pastry melted on his tongue, the woody spice of cinnamon and the fragrant sweetness of honey. He closed his eyes briefly in bliss. "It's nice. It's easier to pretend that... things haven't changed. I would have liked to stay ten forever."

Licking his fingers clean, Adam kept his eyes on his plate, not daring to study Ronan in return, much though he wanted to. "You're right, your brother does have half the house out spying for him. I never noticed before. He never had any reason to spy on me."

Ronan grunted before he took another sip of coffee.

"Declan's an asshole, but he's not stupid. The best way to know what's really going on around your estate is to have as many eyes out as possible. It makes sense. Annoying as fuck... but he knows what he's doing." Ronan was still convinced he'd have made a terrible head of house. It was why he'd given up any right he had to the main estate without a fight; other than being too distraught over his father's murder to really process what was going on at the time.

Setting the cup down on the table, Ronan stared at rim instead.

"He's gonna have 'em all on me the whole fucking time. I knew that before I came home."

"Until you leave again," Adam said, eyes flicking up briefly. Reminding himself of that fact felt like an icicle to the heart. Ronan was only back briefly. As briefly as possible. And then he would be gone. Adam would have his recommendation, at least, as promised, but he wouldn't have Ronan.

The many fractures in his heart shifted and ached. Adam stirred his coffee, watching a tiny bubble spin on the surface. "And then where?"

"Good question," he said, tracing the rim of his mug with his finger. Where to? There was the option of plunging back into fights and horse races. But, somehow, he couldn't bring himself to say that to Adam. What else could he even do. Even more, what did he want?

"Maybe I'll become a farmer," he said, "off somewhere peaceful. Raise horses. Have a garden. A cat. A few dogs." He did love animals, and that sort of life suited him much better than city living. It wasn't as though he didn't realize that he could do all of that at the country estate—he might even be inclined to inherit it if Declan wasn't being such a right douche about it. One sure way to make Ronan fight was to try and force him to do something. Declan never seemed to understand that.

"I don't need much. I think something like that... hah. Well, it must sound stupid, huh?" Declan would scoff at him for such a thought. Raising horses? Taking care of the grounds himself? What was he, a savage?

"It sounds lovely," Adam said, deeply saddened that he wouldn't be a part of it. He wasn't invited. He was nothing but Ronan's childhood friend, taken up as his valet in the meantime. Adam's heart felt like it was crumbling.

"In England or abroad?" he asked, continuing to stir his coffee as he neglected both it and his pastry, too fixated on Ronan's answers to think of anything else.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't think it matters that much."

Declan would probably be all too happy to be rid of him—yet would also struggle not having Ronan under his thumb. And Adam... as far as Ronan was concerned, Adam hated him. He had never denied it, so Ronan assumed it to be the true. What else was there? Kavinsky. And Ronan really didn't give a fuck about Kavinsky anymore.

He took an aggressive bite out of his pastry and finished it off, licking his fingers.

"How about you? What're you gonna do once you're free from my brother's house?"

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