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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Upon their return to the estate, Ronan sighed and scrubbed at his head.

"Come with me," he said, already turning toward where Declan's office was. "Then you can do whatever you'd like with the rest of the day." Adam had offered and he did want Adam there, it made him feel better.

"I just." Turning his eyes back on Adam, "Don't... worry if things get rough. It's just how it works between us." Not when his father was alive. When Niall Lynch was alive, Ronan and Declan had been friends. That stopped two days later when Ronan wrecked one of the most expensive coaches in his distress.

Adam looked straight ahead, refusing again to meet Ronan's eyes. "If I ask you not to fight him, will you try?" he asked, quietly.

Once, long ago, that had been all that it took. Adam had earned his place at Ronan's side throughout their childhood because he could persuade Ronan when no one else could, because Ronan had behaved for him.

But then Ronan had left, and Adam had lost all power over him. Now he was only Ronan's servant.

Ronan's lips thinned.

Not fighting Declan was... difficult. His brother was just as stubborn and angry inside as he was. Yet, Adam asked so quietly, and despite what the other man thought, Ronan was perhaps even weaker to anything he might request now than he was in their childhood.

So after a very long moment of quiet he gave a single sharp nod. If Adam was there, if Adam asked, he wouldn't fight Declan.

Wordlessly, he lead the way to his brother's office. This time Declan wasn't entertaining a female guest because he had been expecting Ronan. The older brother gestured for the younger to sit, and gave Adam a look that quite clearly said: You stand in the corner and make no noise.

After one last inscrutable look at Adam, Ronan sat. Declan sat. They looked at each other for a good while, sizing one another up, before Declan broke out his notebook.

"I'm sure you have your suspicions as to what we need to discuss," he began, flipping through some well inked pages. "First, as promised—dad left you a lot of his jewelry, books, maps, and personal items. They've been packed up for some time now. I'll arrange to have them sent to your... barn." Declan wrinkled his nose and Ronan remained quiet, staring at his brother without blinking. "As you know, the country estate is ready for you to inherit. I'd like you to do that as soon as possible. Someone needs to go manage it and I've got my hands full, here."

"Which leads me to some other points. You're getting old now, Ronan. It's time for you to marry, settle down, and start getting serious. I have a few ladies in mind—you can meet them and pick whichever one you like best, it doesn't really matter. Then, we—"

"I can't," Ronan cut in, sounding tired.

Declan blinked, confused, "Can't what?"

"Get married." Ronan frowned, the lines in his brow particularly pronounced.

Declan stared. "And just why not? That's what we do, Ronan."

Ronan resisted the urge to point out that Declan was still very much not married, even if he was technically courting a woman named Ashley, a well-bred young lady from a very good family. "I can't marry a woman," Ronan said, sitting up, "because I—"

"Don't," said Declan.

"—like men," Ronan finished.

Declan's face reddened in displeasure. "That. Has. Nothing to do with marriage. If you can't help your... indiscretions, certain things can be kept under wraps. But you have to put on a public face. What about children? You have to—"

"I can't," Ronan said again, leaning back in his chair. "I wouldn't be able to. I can't. I'm not a fucking liar, Declan. I'm not gonna live my life like that. I'm not going to join in on whatever schemes you're cooking up, either. I won't be your right hand man. I don't even really want the fucking estate. Maybe I'll take that. The rest? You can shove..." He paused, because Adam had asked him not to fight, "You can forget. I don't know everything I want, but. It's not that. I don't think so."

Declan stood and walked around the desk, slammed his hand on it once he was in front of Ronan, voice rising, "You can and you will. You've already fucked up, Ronan! Just do as I say. If you can do that—you won't have to think about anything. This is what dad would want. Are you just going to continue being a disgrace?"

"Yes," Ronan said, flatly.

Declan struck him across the face with the back of his hand. It made a magnificent noise, because his brother had not restrained himself. Within seconds Ronan's cheek was bright red and he was staring at Declan with barely restrained heat.

"Get the fuck out of my office," Declan said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, "and come back when you can be reasonable."

Ronan's fingers curled into his fist. Normally he would strike his brother back—which would escalate it all into an outright boxing match. But instead he knocked his knuckles gently on the arm of the chair and stood, making his way out of the office without a word.

Adam stood in the corner and made no noise. He kept his eyes down, listening but making no comment, offering no expression.

Until Ronan said that.

He liked men? Adam hadn't known. Hadn't ever guessed. Ronan hadn't ever shown much interest in men, but he hadn't really shown much interest in anybody. Not that they'd had the chance. They'd been kids.

After that, his eyes flicked between the two brothers, curious and attentive to what was going on. His fists clenched at the blow, nails biting into his hands and every muscle in his body tensing.

He followed Ronan out into the hallway, glad to have him out of there and safe, glad that Ronan had restrained himself from fighting.

And yet, something tugged at him. This wasn't resolved, and if he left it up to the two brothers, it never would be.

Catching Ronan's elbow, he met his eyes, quiet and determined. "Do you trust me?" he asked, soft but certain. "I'll meet you back at the Barns."

Holding Ronan's eyes a moment longer, Adam turned and walked back into Declan's office. He carried himself upright and proud, as though he was an equal to the lord of the house.

Without being invited, he came in and sat down in the chair that Ronan had just vacated.

While Ronan had been gone, Adam had never crossed Declan's path. They'd had no business with each other.

"He's never going to be able to be reasonable," Adam said, as though the conversation had never stopped, as though he'd been a part of it all along. "But I can."

Ronan was alarmed when Adam turned and went back into Declan's office. He hesitated, wanting to follow because he trusted his brother not at all.

But he stopped. Do you trust me? There had been a sincerity in Adam's eyes when he said that. It stopped Ronan cold from bursting into the office. Cheek still throbbing from the strike, Ronan bit his bottom lip and then turned away, though it felt like he was driving a knife into his chest doing so. If Declan so much as hurt a hair on Adam's head, Ronan wouldn't be able to keep his promise. He would beat the shit out of his brother.

Adam was the only one he trusted. So, dragging his feet, he returned to the Barns and climbed the ladder into the loft, stretching out across his bed. His cheek throbbed. Telling Declan the truth about his sexuality had lifted a weight off his shoulders, even if it was going to cause all kinds of problems as far as Declan's traditional values were concerned. Ronan didn't care. And now Adam knew too—he wasn't sure how his old friend felt about it, because he had been so engaged with Declan.

In his office, Declan was still pinching his nose, trying to rid himself of the major migraine that was growing. Despite what Ronan believed, Declan didn't want his brother to be unhappy. There were, however, certain things a Lynch had to do. Not to mention that brothers were supposed to stand together. Together, Declan and Ronan Lynch could be a force to be reckoned with. And Declan didn't want to see Ronan die young and drunk in an alleyway. It was a shame that both boys were so shitty about their feelings.

He didn't even notice Adam entering his office again until the young man spoke. Back in his chair and feeling exhausted, Declan glanced up at the voice. He normally barely noticed the young servant, yet he was far more commanding and noticeable when trying to present himself as such. Declan could respect the attempt, so he graced Adam with his attention.

"Oh?" Declan's eyebrow raised, smelling a deal like any good business man. "How does you being reasonable help me?"

"You know perfectly well how," Adam replied. Ronan couldn't lie, but he could. If it was necessary. If it kept him alive.

"I've always been the only one who could persuade him to anything, aside from your father. I know him better than anyone else. You can tell me what you need, I'll tell you what he can accept, and I can persuade him to agree to your terms."

I want you to leave him alone. I want you to stop upsetting him. I want him to be happy. I want him to be free.

Adam forced himself to relax in the chair, sitting like one of the indolent young nobleman. As though he was someone who had power.

Declan threaded his fingers together.

What the servant said was true. Ronan had always had a thing for him. Declan had never been blind toward his brother's inclinations; they weren't the problem. The problem was letting them get in the way of what had to be done. If Ronan wanted some preferred dalliances on the side, Declan couldn't care less.

"You heard what I want. Can you convince him of those things?"

Declan smiled. "If so, I'll give you anything you want. You'll want for nothing." That was why the servant was here, wasn't it? They always wanted something in return. Money. Power. Status. Those were things Declan could provide, if he got what he wanted.

Adam rolled his eyes. It was a shocking display of disrespect, but if he was going to negotiate successfully, he needed to establish some measure of his own authority. "I'm here to negotiate, not to obey you. I obey him. He intends to set up a household of his own, and I'll be managing his affairs."

That was a bold lie, but necessary. This was why Adam hadn't wanted Ronan here, when he had realized what he needed to do.

"I haven't seen the country estate," Adam said, behaving as though they were negotiating, in order to make it so. "What are its assets?"

Declan was taken aback by both the eyeroll and the attitude. He was about to reprimand the boy for thinking he could talk like that when he said the magic words—Ronan was intending to set up his own household?

It was more or less what Declan wanted. Ronan somewhere safe, where he could keep tabs on him, yet not have to constantly be on him. It wasn't like Declan's life revolved around the younger Lynch.

So it was easily that Declan was pulled into Adam's ruse.

"The estate itself is 39,400 square feet. 34 rooms—12 bedrooms and 21 bathrooms. The home has 22,800 square feet on the first, second, and third floors. The basement takes up the remaining 9,600 square feet. It also includes 13 fireplaces and 14 and 1/2 acres of land." It was an impressive piece of property. Larger than his own, but sacrifices were made to not live on miles of grass. Declan wasn't fond of grass.

"That's also where many of the family's horses are raised and trained until they're broken in and behaved well enough to come here."

It was more than the boy ever expected to see in his life, Declan was sure. Niall Lynch had loved luxury and thus built himself a countryside estate in which to retire in with his wife. It encompassed everything his father had loved and expense had meant nothing in its purchase and furnishing.

"He'll like that, with the horses," Adam said, pleased by how cooperative Declan was being. It was a strange feeling, this confidence and power to influence the master of the house. "He'll accept the house and see to its management. I assume there's a skeleton staff in place to maintain it? If you'll give me the contact information, I shall write ahead and inform them of your brother's preferences."

Adam sat up a little straighter, letting his attitude fade now that they were working toward the same purpose. "I can't do anything about him marrying--you heard how set he is on that count. I can see about getting him to settle down and stop making such a scandal of himself." Adam wasn't at all sure that he could manage that, but he was willing to give it a try.

"And just how do you plan on that?" Declan asked, lips thinning. It wasn't out of displeasure with Adam—it was Ronan he was thinking about. His brother was hardheaded and stubborn. He liked his vices with a hangover the next morning. Reckless, it often seemed like Ronan went through life as though he didn't care if he lived or died.

Thoughts elsewhere, he grabbed and inked down the names of the staff that was currently holding up at the country estate so that Adam could take care of that business. It was beneficial to him if Ronan took over the estate, and there was nothing strange about someone doing the work in his stead, when it came to arrangements such as these. He still suspected nothing.

"Without a wife, who is going to keep him on track? It's not just about staring a family. It's a support system. It's having someone to reign him in. He really won't even consider it?" Declan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose again. It was just for face, so he didn't see the big deal—not that someone like Declan would.

Adam rose to his feet, bowing politely and taking the list. Declan's description of the house made it sound wonderful, at least to Adam's ears. Like a magical, heavenly place, full of rooms and surrounded by fields.

"He has me," he said, quiet, eyes averted, humble once more. He let the possible implication hang, letting Declan come to his own conclusions about Ronan's relationship about the boy he'd kept at his side all through childhood.

As long as Declan didn't notice the discrepancy in how Ronan had left him behind for so long.

Declan did not look surprised. Declan looked tired, continuing to rub his fingers up and down the bridge of his nose. With what Ronan had just dropped, he didn't even question it. It felt like all the piece of the puzzle had finally fallen together—perhaps clear truly to only Delcan despite Adam's fib.

"I knew it," he sighed to himself, as though recalling several incidents. "Just... don't let him be reckless. And, please, be quiet. Honestly, Ronan, a servant?" The last bit was obviously not for Adam as Declan cursed under his breath, waving Adam away with his hand. This was too much for one day. Ronan was always too much.

"You're dismissed."

Declan's words stung, and Adam was grateful to be dismissed. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face for a crime he hadn't even had the pleasure to commit.

He hurried back out to the Barns, knowing that Ronan would be worried and possibly angry. His cheeks were flushed and his heart pounding as he pulled the barn door shut behind himself. "I'm back," he called up, struck with a stab of fear that Ronan wouldn't be here, that he wouldn't have waited, that he wouldn't care. "Ronan?"

Ronan had been staring up at the ceiling, brow creasing heavier with lines with each minute that passed and Adam did not return. Worry was knife raking across his ribs, stabbing him repeatedly in the chest like a scorned lover. When it came to himself? Ronan didn't give a shit. Adam was an entirely different thing altogether. Was he all right? Did Declan do something? If Declan did anything to him, Ronan would be furious. Fuck, he was an idiot for leaving Adam Parrish behind in the first place.

When he heard Adam's voice he stood, striding over to the side of the loft and looking down at his old friend.

"I'm here," he said, sounding utterly relieved that Adam had returned.

"Jesus Christ, Parrish. Did he do anything to you?"

"My pride's a bit bruised," Adam said, climbing up the ladder. "But no, he didn't harm me physically. Like you, your brother has always had enough honor not to hit anyone weaker than he is." Despite his many other flaws.

Adam's eyes flicked over Ronan, nervous and trying to hide it. "I accepted the country house on your behalf. You don't have to worry about it. I'll manage it for you, you'll never have to bother with it. He shouldn't press you any farther on the marriage issue. I settled that, though I did allow him to believe that you're fucking me."

Reddening and scowling at that, Adam looked stubbornly at the floor, still hurting from the blows to his pride.

"You—"

Ronan stopped dead, staring at Adam. Adam had... accepted the country house? Without his consent? And what was more—Declan thought they were fucking?

Originally having reached out to touch his old friend, Ronan's hand dropped instantly and he took a step back, awash in a conflict of strong emotions. Confusion. Hurt. Anxiety. Why on earth had Adam told Declan he'd take the house? And—why had Adam said he'd manage it? What happened to—leaving? Hating the Lynches, hating Ronan for leaving him? And then saying that he didn't need to worry about it?

Not to mention that it felt like a stake to the chest, seeing Adam's scowling expression at the thought of them being—something more. Even if what Ronan would want from Adam would be more than just fucking. Fucking ouch. Even though he knew Adam would probably be disgusted by his feelings, seeing that face still hurt.

Ronan didn't understand. Didn't know how to react. The possibility that he could be completely misunderstanding didn't even cross his mind.

Lips thinning, Ronan didn't trust himself to say anything. He walked away, scrubbing his hand over his head, pacing, frustrated at everything.

"Why?" The question came out harsh and rough because he was upset. Don't jump to conclusions, he told himself like a mantra, finally looking back at Adam with an inscrutable expression. His eyes spoke volumes though, reflecting every pained emotion like glass.

Adam looked up at the question, confused by the emotion in it and deeply worried and anxious at the pain in Ronan's eyes. His heart dropped, instantly dreading that he'd erred, and his solutions to Ronan's problems had been all wrong. He didn't even know what Ronan meant by the question, but he had to answer it. There was no way not to answer it.

"I wanted," Adam said, faltering, trying to understand where he'd gone wrong, why Ronan was turning that look on him, one he'd never seen before. "I wanted to make him leave you alone. You didn't want to have to bother with the house, and you would never marry." Remembering that he was a servant, Adam dropped his eyes, further hurt and humiliated by having stepped beyond his reach and having so thoroughly displeased Ronan as a result. "I beg your forbearance, sir. I should not have been so presumptive."

Adam's heart had been in the right place.

It was true that Declan would mostly leave him alone if he thought Ronan was going to inherit the country estate. Ronan was less convinced that Declan would give up trying to marry him off even if he had a lover (it wasn't like Declan cared if he cheated), yet it was enough to throw his brother off of it for now.

Yet he would be living lies. Lies that hurt especially because he wanted them to be truths. Ronan wanted Adam to be his lover. Longed for him—even when they were young he'd cast Adam aching looks when the other boy wouldn't notice. Time hadn't changed his feelings. In fact, it had only worsened them, given that he was in denial about his sexual orientation for a long while.

It was even worse when Adam had said that just for his benefit, out of a kindness, to keep Declan off his case. Ronan didn't want Adam to live lies either—not ones that he would hate, like this one. Being in a relationship with Ronan was scowl-worthy.

The country estate was a different matter altogether. With that, he was mostly just confused. Why would Adam want to work for him? Though, he supposed, if Adam assumed he wanted nothing to do with the house, he wouldn't really have to worry about Ronan.

Head and heart hurting, Ronan rubbed his fingers along the bridge of his nose, not unlike what Declan had done earlier. Brother like brother.

"No. No, it's fine." He didn't even have the heart to curse vibrantly as he usually did. He just sounded tired. "Thank you for caring, Adam." That, at least, helped ease the ache in his chest. Adam had wanted to help him. Adam had no way of knowing that Ronan had been pining over him. Before tonight, Adam didn't even know he liked men. No one did.

Dropping down onto the side of his bed, he gazed out the window. "You don't have to lie for me, though. I don't want you to do that to yourself."

No wonder Ronan was angry with him. He thought Adam had lied.

Adam supposed he had, a little. A lie by omission, if nothing else. "Forgive me," he murmured, sick with misery and guilt. "I know how you hate lies."

Is this what he had become? A person who Ronan hated?

His deaf ear rang, and Adam wanted desperately to stew in his misery. "I'll understand if you want to turn me out for it." A dishonest servant, after all, was a danger to a household, and irredeemable.

Adam stayed where he stood, feeling as though he might collapse from unhappiness. He'd ruined everything.

Ronan's head turned sharply and he stared at Adam once more.

"I would never," he said, slowly, with feeling, "turn you out." The thought was an awful one. The earlier comment he didn't refute—he did hate lies, though he never held anyone else to the same standards. But turn Adam out? No. If the choice was between hurting Adam and dying, there wasn't much of a choice at all.

"I don't like lies, but that's not what I mean." Biting his lip, Ronan moodily looked out the window once more. "You don't have to force yourself to lie about being with me. It's unpleasant for you, right?" He glanced up again. "It'll get around. That you're managing the estate, that I'm fucking you. You don't have to lie about something you hate for me."

Rubbing his hands together, Ronan frowned at the floor.

"And it wouldn't be right," he said, "when I do have..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. Instead, he gave Adam another meaningful look before closing his eyes.

Confused but at least reassured that Ronan wasn't angry at him, Adam came closer, sitting down on the bed. Ronan's position meant that either he had to sit very close or he would have his head at an odd angle to hear Ronan well. Adam chose the latter, trying to make it seem as natural as possible how he turned his body and cocked his head.

"I don't mind, if it makes things easier for you," Adam said, wondering if Ronan was going to finish that sentence by saying that he did already have someone he was fucking. "I don't..."

He looked away, realizing that he'd never responded to Ronan's revelation. Not to Ronan, anyway. Adam thought it was wonderful, but he had to remind himself that he was deceiving himself if he thought it would bring Ronan any closer to him. "I never knew. I wish you'd told me. If... I don't know if you knew back then. Is it... is it Gansey?"

"I ... sort of. Didn't want to know, though, so I tried not to think about it," he admitted, looking at Adam as he sat.

Despite how heavy his heart was, Ronan snorted when Adam asked if it was Gansey and shook his head. "I think everyone has a thing for Gansey at some point. But, no. He's like a brother to me. I think he's making doe eyes some uppity blond now, anyway. Last I heard."

Ronan pressed his lips together again. It felt dishonest to keep his feelings secret from Adam now.

"No... ever since we were kids, I—..."

Gently, he laid his hand on top of Adam's, studying the way their fingers laid together before he forced himself to look away. "Sorry," he mumbled, pulling his hand back, knowing fully well that such actions were over the line. Fingers curling inward, his nails bit into his palm.

"Just. Don't make things easier for me at your own expense. I don't want that. Fuck, Adam. You deserve better than all of this."

Adam smiled at the line about Gansey, nodding his head. "Me too, a little."

Adam thought, for a moment, that Ronan meant him. That Ronan wanted him. Adam's heart and groin both lurched for an instant, wanting so much that he could let himself believe it.

"I've always made things easier for you at my own expense," Adam said, staring at his hand and wishing to have the warmth of Ronan's hand back again. "I wouldn't know how to do anything else."

"I know."

Adam had always been there. Trying to help. Being clever, doing what Ronan wouldn't. Just like tonight—Ronan would never play nice with Declan. Yet Adam had, for his sake.

For a good long minute, Ronan stared at Adam. The fire burning low in the hollow of his chest couldn't be ignored; not anymore. Every pent up feeling. All the things he tried to ignore. All the things he wanted.

Hand pushing into the mattress, Ronan leaned, tucking his face against the side of Adam's face. Lips brushing the other man's ear, he closed his eyes and murmured, "I've always loved you. And now, I want you to be happy."

Only one thing—he had chosen Adam's bad side to press his lips against, unbeknownst to him that Adam wouldn't be able to hear his confession. When he pulled back he looked at Adam, waiting for some kind of answer, knowing full well he was going to get shot down. But Ronan didn't lie and he was tired of hiding the truth.

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