Four weeks had passed, in the usual whirlwind of seasonal revelries. Wisteria and Nikola had not seen as much of their host as they would have preferred. Justin had wrapped up the last of his business deals before the Ascension Ball, as usual. But for the Ball itself and several of the more important festivities afterwards, he’d played escort to different eligible young women, to maintain his facade as a bachelor. At home at night, they strove to make it up to one another in hours of leisurely lovemaking. Their time apart was never dull: Wisteria and Nikola visited their Gracehaven friends and relations, attended parties, plays, and concerts. With Nikola as her native guide and companion at society balls, Wisteria enjoyed even those events. It was a glorious life, Wisteria thought.

She was not entirely sure Justin agreed. He had been true to his word, giving up the preventative without further comment. Justin had taken over Nikola’s prior reproductive role during her fertile period, while Nikola took his pleasure in a variety of other ways. Both men seemed fully satisfied in body.

But Justin spoke less, and seemed more absent-minded than usual. Nikola noticed as well, no doubt better than she did, but they had decided not to press him upon it. “It’s not merely reticence in him, you know,” Nikola said. “That is – I don’t know how much of his reluctance to talk is social conditioning, distrust, and discretion because he – often justifiably – fears the consequences of loose speech. But I think he’s also…genuinely private. There are parts of his mind he doesn’t like other people rummaging about in. Not even us. Not because he doesn’t love or trust us, but merely because they’re private.”

As much as she wanted to know and understand everything, Wisteria could not feel she had a right to impose her own openness on everyone else. Not even on her own husband.

One Saturday night, they all fell asleep together in Justin’s enormous decadent bed. Justin had adopted Nikola’s practice of putting his servants on holiday on Sundays, ostensibly as an act of generosity and in practice because it gave the three of them a day of real privacy. That made Saturday the one night a week they could spend all of together in relative safety. Often, Wisteria woke on Sunday morning to Justin’s kisses, or to see Justin making love with their husband.

This morning, she awoke to a draft against her back. Justin had already risen. Nikola was still sleeping, and didn’t wake when she kissed his cheek. So she slipped out of bed to use the water closet, then padded through the manor in search of Justin.

She found him in Comfrey Manor’s salle, wearing only trousers and an undershirt as he ran through a series of practice drills against a fencing dummy. Since he wasn’t sparring, he hadn’t bothered with protective gear. She stood on the smooth hardwood floor outside of the padded practice area, watching his reflection in the mirrored wall as he lunged and retreated. Justin caught her eye in the mirror, and asked, “Have you kept up on your practice?”

“I haven’t found a fencing instructor who will take me yet,” she answered.

He grunted, drawing back and lunging again. He was actually too strong, he had mentioned once, to be a truly great sport fencer. Well-developed muscles cost some flexibility. While he did flexibility exercises as well, he could have been more agile had he been willing to sacrifice some power. “What, Nikola won’t teach you?”

“Nikola’s been teaching me bowracing when we engage in sport. We both prefer it. And Nikola says he’s a terrible fencer and would be a worse instructor.”

“Nikola is not a terrible fencer,” Justin said between extensions. “Poor, yes. Not terrible. What’s your excuse for not practicing what I showed you?”

“I thought that if I practiced very much without anyone to check my form, I would ingrain bad habits,” Wisteria answered. “And I am perhaps self-conscious about the Fireholt servants seeing me at it.”

Her husband drew erect with a salute for the dummy, and turned to her. “You could practice now.”

“What, in my dressing gown?”

“Why not?” He grinned. “Or take it off, if you think it’ll get in your way. There’s no one but us here, after all.”

Wisteria turned her back to him and the mirror before complying with deliberate moves, letting the robe slide slowly from her shoulders to pool at her feet. Then she began to unbutton her nightgown. Halfway through, she pushed one sleeve off to bare her right shoulder, then resumed until she’d unfastened the rest. She let the garment drop down her arms, and caught it just below the waist, so that her bare back was to Justin and her hands tangled in the sleeves. She’d watched Justin undress Nikola in a similar fashion before and thought he must like it. She felt sensual doing it, thinking about him watching her, and the inappropriateness of the setting only made her more aroused. “Is it dangerous?” she asked, turning her head not quite far enough to see his face. “To practice fencing without protection.”

“Only if you’re sparring. For solo drills it doesn’t matter. Well, it’s a good idea to practice as one means to fight. But one never knows when one may need to defend oneself.”

“True.” Wisteria let the gown fall the rest of the way and turned back to him.

Justin inhaled sharply at the sight of her. It was not just the beauty of her slim, nude form, her flawless pale brown skin contrasting with the sweep of long black curls, her slight breasts high and nipples taut in the cool air of the salle. It was her bearing: so unselfconscious, light brown eyes that looked to him without a trace of modesty, without a hint of the impropriety of taking a fencing lesson naked. “Where do you want to start?” she asked. Justin’s eyes fell on the hollow of her throat, and he smiled at the turn of his own thoughts. An hour and a half of exercise had not done what Wisteria had accomplished with the fall of her nightgown: take his mind off his inner regrets. Ironic, that.

His smile dropped. “Let me show you some footwork exercises. There’s a step-based one that you should do at home. You can’t possibly do it wrong, it’s simply to make one accustomed to moving quickly and surely.” He led her to the adjoining exercise room where blocks were laid out on the floor to serve as steps that one hopped up and down from. He showed her a couple of warm-up drills, stepping up, down, and around them in patterns, then watched as Wisteria tried to do the same.

It was hard to concentrate on her performance when her body was so distractingly exposed. Despite all the bedplay in which they’d engaged over the past year, Justin had rarely had the opportunity to watch her unclad in good light. Archery practice had toned her arms and riding lent extra muscle to her thighs. While her body had a boyish slimness, with narrow hips and a slight bosom, her breasts and buttocks jiggled in the most enticing manner as she bounced between the step-blocks. Surreptitiously, he adjusted his trousers to ease the strain on his erection. It still surprised him how much she aroused him. He was well-familiar with lust, but Wisteria and Nikola brought out an intemperate passion that only they could satisfy.

After finishing several sets, Wisteria paused, breathing heavily. “This is much more tiring than it looks when you do it.”

Justin smiled. “Did I neglect to mention it improves stamina as well? All kinds of benefits, my dear. But come, let us have some practice with the foil before I wear you out completely.” They returned to the salle and he offered her the practice foil he’d been using earlier. Then he made her demonstrate everything she recalled from their last lesson together.

Three years ago, Justin would have laughed at the absurdity of teaching swordplay to a woman. They had not the right to issue a challenge nor the responsibility to answer one, and could not participate in the sport of fencing. What could be the point?

Then two years ago, Wisteria and Nikola had both been abducted. After the horrors of that experience, Justin was more than willing to teach Wisteria any skill that might give her an edge. Perhaps she might never be good, and perhaps she might not have access to a blade in a situation where she’d have use for it. Still, she would not be worse prepared for the experience.

So he watched with a critical eye as she aimed and poked the tip at the center of the target dummy. “This is also much harder than it looks when you do it,” she remarked as the tip bobbed and dipped despite her efforts at precision.

Justin closed with her. “Your stance is too narrow; widen it.” He adjusted her feet, then moved his hands to her shoulders “Hold your shoulders thus – don’t just let your offhand flop around like that – keep your wrist straight.” He glided his hand down her sword arm. Her eyes were focused on the target dummy, her concentration on the task at hand. This close, it was impossible for him to mimic her indifference. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his touch, with a slight sheen of sweat from the exertion. He swept her long hair over one shoulder and dipped to kiss the nape of her neck.

“Am I holding my head wrong as well?” Wisteria asked.

Justin licked the salt from her skin and then raked his teeth over it. He nibbled his way up to her ear. “In truth, my dear,” he murmured, “I am heartily sick of critiquing your very beautiful form when what I really want to do is screw it.” He relieved her of the foil and tossed it to the mat with just enough care to ensure it wouldn’t hurt either of them, then seized her wrists and pulled her hard against his body.

Wisteria arched her spine and bent forward to rub her naked derriere against his still-clothed cock. “I suppose I’ll find a fencing instructor to hire eventually.”

Justin released one of her wrists to unfasten his trousers and shove them and his underclothes off. “When you do, my dear,” he growled, voice husky with desire, “if he tells you to strip: don’t.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “Terribly inappropriate, is it?”

“Terribly. Also, you’ll get lousy lessons.” He thrust his prick against her from behind, feeling how warm and slick she was already – not as indifferent as you appeared, I see – and spread his legs wide enough to lower himself to penetrate. She wriggled, encouraging, pushing back to take him deeper. He took her hips in his hands and lifted her to make it easier to oblige. It was awkward and difficult and incredible, exactly what he wanted. For a glorious timeless interval, he lost track of everything but the feel of her.

After he climaxed, Wisteria straightened and turned to snuggle into him. Justin closed his eyes and held her close, stroking her long dark hair and thinking he should probably let her put her dressing gown back on. And not wanting to let her go long enough for her to do so.

“I never realized this was why you were so keen on exercise, Justin. You should’ve said; it might motivate even me.”

Justin started and opened his eyes to see Nikola’s reflection in the salle mirror. His tall blond husband was dressed and seated on one of the chairs near the entrance.

“Good morning, my lord,” Wisteria said. “He never told me before either. Who do you suppose he did confide in?”

Justin released her and retrieved her dressing gown and his trousers; he felt guilty and self-conscious, and even knowing both emotions were baseless did not change them. “I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, gruffly.

“You had more important things to attend to.” Nikola smiled and rose to help Wisteria into her robe. “Although I truly am curious how you came to attend to them here. How many bedrooms do you have, Comfrey?”

Justin fastened his trousers and stared down at his hands instead of answering. “How can you be so casual about all this, Nikola?”

Nikola gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean wandering in to see me fucking your wife! How can that not bother you?” Justin snapped, because he could not pretend to be fine, not with them, and it was easier to say that than to talk about what truly troubled him. What I should have told them before I married them.

“I see you fuck our wife all the time, Justin.” Nikola wrapped his arms around Wisteria’s shoulders, his tone mild and puzzled. “Why should it bother me today?”

“Does it bother you, Justin?” Wisteria asked, uncomfortably close to the point.

“No!” he snapped, and turned away. “I’ve no right to be possessive.”

“You’ve as much right as I do,” Nikola said. “More. I live with Wisteria. I see her daily, and with no need or reason to conceal my affection or desire. You’re the one shackled by discretion. If any of us has a right to be jealous or resentful, it’s you.”

His words fell into a long silence. At length, Justin said, “That is not how I would ever view my position.”

“Why not?” Wisteria asked. “I do not suppose I can visit you without Nikola, not without risking a scandal, but I’ve thought on occasion that Nikola should visit alone. So you could have time together when you did not have to share.”

Justin pressed his palms against his eyes and snarled. “Do you not yet understand that ruining your marriage is the last thing I want to do?”

“Justin, you aren’t—”

“Am I not?” He gave a bark of mirthless laughter. “Am I not ruining things right now? I—” Justin took a deep breath, then hurried on before Nikola could add anything else. “Forgive me, my lord, my lady.” Justin half-bowed in their direction without meeting the gaze of either. “Excuse me.” He strode from the room without stomping or slamming the door, which was all the maturity he could manage at the moment.

A couple of hours later, Justin joined his guests in Comfrey Manor’s private dining room. They had brought up a repast of bread, cheese, fruit, and a cold soup from the cellar, and laid it out on the sideboard to serve themselves. Wisteria wore a violet angoraflax gown with gold lace, matched by a jacket of gold lace with violet angoraflax lapels and cuffs, and looked nearly as beautiful as she had naked with a fencing foil. Justin had dressed as well, in a fashionable dinner jacket of dark blue trimmed in gold with cream breeches, neckcloth impeccably tied and tucked into a patterned light blue waistcoat. He had no one to impress save his two houseguests – but there was no one more important to him, and he’d been doing precious little of late to impress them favorably.

They greeted him as warmly as if he had not started a pointless quarrel that morning and marched off with it unresolved. As they ate under the gaslit crystal chandelier, the three of them talked of their plans for the coming week. No one mentioned Justin’s earlier outburst.

After they finished the meal, Justin leaned back in his ornately carved dining chair. “I want to explain—” he started to say, then laughed at his own words. “Or rather: I should prefer almost anything to explaining myself, as I imagine you well know. But I have been acting more the ass than usual of late, so with your good will I shall attempt to explain.” He paused. “I have no confidence whatsoever that it will do any good, mind. But as a wise woman once observed to me, not talking about it does not appear to be working. So I am willing to try the converse.”

Nikola grinned at him and gave an encouraging nod, while Wisteria tilted her head to listen. “Of course, my lord.”

Justin took a deep breath. He’d rehearsed in his head what he needed to say, but the words did not want to come out. “I don’t believe I’ve spoken much of my parents, beyond to note that their marriage was a disaster. They were both always kind to my sister and myself, mind you. It was not us that they hated.” He toyed with an unused butter knife, turning it over in his hands. “I have…some good memories of each, from when I was small. But whenever they were together, it inevitably turned to disaster. Petty squabbles that became screaming fights. In public, when they were trying to look like an ordinary couple, they’d make these little cutting not-jokes at one another’s expense. Pretending they were teasing. Meg – she is twelve years my elder – told me that they had not always been so bad. They’d cared for each other once, when she was little. And when I was a baby and a toddler, things were actually quite good.” “I remember we all wanted to hold the baby.” Meg had said, half a lifetime ago. “You were a little charmer right from the cradle. Father was so proud to have an heir, and Mother so happy to have a little one again. You were the glue that held us together for a while. It’s not your fault it couldn’t last. They made their own problems.”

“Throughout my childhood, I did not understand why they could not tolerate each other. I remember Meg constantly working at peacemaker between them, trying to distract them. I rather idolized her then. After Meg’s marriage, the Comfrey household took a turn for the worse. I was at boarding school most of the year by then, so I only saw it on breaks. During those, I tried to do Meg’s peacemaker job, but I lacked her skill at it. When I was thirteen, I came home a day early for autumn holiday because I’d finished a paper early instead of writing an exam for one course. My parents were having a row in the second-floor sitting room, and my father’d ordered all the servants out of the wing because he hated them overhearing. I…don’t remember why I decided I should greet them anyway. Perhaps I thought I could stop them, or perhaps I figured there’d be no good time and I might as well get it over with. Whatever the case, I remember I called out from the stairs so they’d know I was coming and perhaps compose themselves. I could hear raised voices, but not make out most of their words. I did hear my mother say my name, so I opened the sitting room door.

“My mother stood by the fireplace, facing the door. My father had his back to it, and was shouting at her, ‘—don’t want your bastard son to know what a whore you are, Marianne, perhaps you should show some discretion!’” Justin stared at the utensil in his hands, unwilling to look at the faces of his spouses. Why am I telling them this? How could any words possibly help? No point in stopping now. “My mother looked at me with an expression of absolute horror. ‘Justin—’

“My father interrupted her. ‘Yes, Justin! What, do you have another bast—’

“And then my mother hit him. Not a slap; a punch, to the face. And screamed at him. ‘You monster! You utter monster! Justin, it’s not true, you have to believe me – tell him it’s not true, Anthony!’ My father’s head had twisted around when she hit him, and he was just…looking at me. Appalled. He didn’t say a word. Mother hit him again, and he didn’t lift a hand to stop her.

“I shut the door on them both and walked away.” Justin put the knife down at last and reached across the table for the wine carafe. He filled his glass, drained it, and filled it again.

Wisteria extended a hand to cover his. “Did he ever apologize?”

Justin laughed, humorless. “Oh yes. That same day. He tracked me down a little later – I was in the salle, in fact, cutting the target dummy to ribbons. He told me that he’d been angry at Mother, that of course none of it was true.” “I didn’t know you were even home, son. I never would have – I never should have said such a dreadful – dreadful thing. Such a lie. Not for any reason. I am so, so sorry.” His father took the sabre from Justin’s nerveless fingers. He’d never been a demonstrative man, but he folded Justin into his arms then. “Forgive me. Please forgive me.” Justin neither returned the embrace nor pulled away. He just stood there, numb, empty. “He always was a terrible liar.” He drained his glass again and set it down.

Nikola came around the table and put a hand on his shoulder. “Justin…” The Newlanture lord stood, shrugging off his touch to walk away from the table. Justin didn’t want to be comforted: he wasn’t a child, and curse it, it hadn’t worked when he had been.

“But why take it back if it were true?” Wisteria asked.

Another mirthless laugh. “Curst if I know. Maybe he feared I’d challenge him for my mother’s honor. Abandoned World, I did duel men over that slur, years later. But it’s perfectly obvious in retrospect. Meg looks just like him, and I have nothing in common with either. Hah – I don’t even look much like my whore of a mother.” Justin rubbed a hand over his face. “I forgave my father – Lord Comfrey – for it, though. I couldn’t – you know, he never mentioned it again to me. Never treated me as anything other than a beloved son, to the day he died.

“But my mother – I hated her for it. For betraying my father. From that day forward, I blamed her for every fight between them. I did not make a public spectacle of my distaste, but in private I dropped every pretense of amicability with her. After a childhood full of divided allegiances, it was almost a relief to choose a side at last.” As he spoke, Justin remembered the months of Nikola’s engagement, when they had feigned public friendship while Nikola had cut him dead if they were alone. Just like that. His guts knotted. “She set up her own household a year or two later, and only came to visit when Meg did.” Meg had been so exasperated with him. “I don’t understand why you always take Father’s part now. It’s not our fight and you’re just making everything harder for all of us.” He had never explained. What could he say? That their mother had made him a bastard, and that he was going to steal the inheritance that rightfully belonged to Meg’s son? “I never forgave her. Not even after Father died. Not even on her deathbed.”

“That’s utterly dreadful,” Wisteria said.

Justin had no idea if she meant him, or his mother, or father, or all of it together. “Is it, madame? I have not yet reached the worst of it. I should have told you sooner. Before we were married. Certainly before – I’ve not a drop of Comfrey blood in me, you know. There’s no way my child could be Blessed.”

Behind him, Nikola snorted. Justin sensed him moving closer, but his husband did not try to touch him this time. “You cannot expect me to repudiate you based on your heritage. My family hadn’t had a Blessed in two generations before me; I was hardly counting on my children to hold one.”

“My family has never had one,” Wisteria said. “I shan’t deny that I would be pleased if one of my descendents did, but it was one of the least important considerations when I sought a betrothal. Perhaps a more timely disclosure would have been appropriate. But it changes nothing; I am glad to be wed to you, and eager to bear your child. Though, truly, Justin, if you do not trust an individual with such information perhaps you ought not propose to that person.”

Justin almost smiled. “I should not? You proposed to me.”

“You proposed to me first,” she reminded him.

“Ah, so I did. I believe I told you at the time that I should not be doing it.” He turned to look at her. “I promise I won’t do it again?”

“Fair enough.” Wisteria had moved to stand beside him, and put a hand on his arm. “It’s of no consequence, my lord. You know we will not betray you.”

“If I did not trust you, I would not have said any of this,” Justin said, softly. Were it known that he was a bastard, it would mean more than mere scandal: it would cost him the viscountcy at a minimum. It could also cost him much or even all of his wealth, depending on the how the courts ruled and what actions Meg and her husband took on behalf of Comfrey’s legitimate heir, their adolescent son. “These sorry artifacts of my past haven’t troubled me for years. The only reason I am thinking about it now…For years, I assumed my father had discovered my mother’s infidelity at some point during my early years. That it was the cause of their division. Certain events led me to suspect her lover had been a man close to my father, making the betrayal all the more bitter to him.

“But now…a thousand puzzle pieces prey on my mind. That twelve-year gap between myself and Meg. Meg telling me how happy my father was to have a son, when I was a baby. Surely they must have been trying all along to conceive an heir. What if they, too, had decided to turn to another man for the seed? Someone my father admired and trusted. What if he’d known all along? What if the strain of a shared secret was what broke them apart? For all I know, they might have done exactly what you are doing with me now. Am I merrily leading you to the edge of the same cliff from whence my parents fell?”

Nikola inhaled in the ensuing silence. “Now that is a truly hideous thought.”

Wisteria considered this. “So you are concerned that our union is not strong enough to survive in the long term? That at some point Nikola and I will break with you, and come to resent one another for your role or perhaps the lack thereof in our lives?”

Justin pressed his palms to his eyes and stumbled to sit in one of the disused chairs flanking the dining room door. “Something like that. Yes.”

“Can you honestly imagine Wisteria in a screaming row?” Nikola said, dryly. “In two years, the only time I’ve heard her raise her voice in anger was when she was shouting at Ian Brogan. For torturing me.”

“Technically, I raised my voice to attract his crew’s attention in the hopes of sowing dissension among our enemies,” Wisteria said. “Though I was enraged. It somehow never occurs to me to shout to a make a point.”

“I stand corrected. Justin – even if your parents did try something similar and fail – and I am not saying that they did – but even so, we’re not them. I swear there is no provocation in Paradise that could make me say anything half so awful as that about Wisteria. Savior, I never said anything so cruel about Brogan and he literally tortured me!”

That won a half-chuckle from Justin. “I’ll gladly curse his name for you, if need be.”

“You were quite creative about it at the time,” Wisteria said. “It was enlightening.”

“Ahhh…so I was. Sorry.”

“In all seriousness, Justin: I did make a vow to love and honor both of you. I mean to keep it. Do you not feel the same?” Nikola asked.

“I do,” Justin said, his voice low. “It’s not – I don’t mean to impugn your word, Nikola. Or Wisteria’s. But my parents exchanged vows too, and loved each other once. It’s absurd to liken you to them, I know. I am being ridiculous. I want to stop, but somehow I keep making things worse instead. Are you quite sure I’m not crazy?”

Nikola walked to him, gloves off. Wordlessly, Justin held out his hand and Nikola took it. “You are not crazy. A bit worn around the edges, perhaps. You’ve some old traumas and the way you dealt with them a long time ago isn’t working for you now. You are working on a new coping strategy that suits who you are better. That’s all perfectly ordinary, even healthy. And, Justin – it is also something the Savior can and will help you with, if you find the challenge overwhelming. But I think you are doing well on your own.”

Justin raised one dark eyebrow at him. “Do you truly?”

Nikola bent to kiss him, clasping Justin’s hand to his chest. “I do. Truly. Look how well you’ve accommodated your lovers who insist on discussing everything.” Justin snickered, and Nikola went on, “I recognize that relationships change. Perhaps there is some chance that in twenty years we will not feel the same way we do now. But we would have to be crazy to treat one another the way you describe your parents treating each other. Even after our break, the worst thing I ever thought of you was that you’d never felt any affection for me. That was terrible and wrong of me, but it is a far cry from calling you a monster or a traitor. If any of us were that twisted up by bitterness or hate, I believe I would be able to tell, and the Savior to treat it. And if we were not, Wisteria would find us some rational solution by which we could tolerate one another well enough to be cordial, if not loving. I promise you: we will not end thus.”

Wisteria strolled over to join them as Justin got to his feet, still holding Nikola’s hand. “For the record, my lords, my plan in such a contingency is to seduce you both into being loving again. I shall not give up either of my husbands easily.”

Nikola wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “See? Eminently rational.”

Justin shook his head and embraced them both. “One of these days, you two will run into a problem you cannot talk your way around, I am sure of it. But it appears today is not that day.”

As they left the dining room together, Wisteria remarked, “When we do, we’ll have you there to slice it to ribbons for us, my lord. I am not afraid.”

“Hah.”

“So this is settled now?” Nikola said. “No more reservations?”

Justin sighed. “No. I shall stop being ridiculous now.”

“Good. Because I suspect it’s too late for you to change your mind about fathering Wisteria’s child anyway.”

Justin stopped in the hall and stared at them both.

Nikola grinned and added, “Did you not notice? Wisteria’s a week overdue for her monthly flow.”

“It might be nothing,” Wisteria said, quickly. “I wasn’t going to say anything until I’d had a healer verify it, and I was trying to wait at least another week before I let impatience and anxiety induce me to petition. Unless – can you tell, Nikola?”

“Not yet. It will be a few more weeks, I believe, before there’s any trace of a mind.” Nikola put one hand over her flat stomach. “And I should not get my hopes up. But I have a good feeling about it, just the same.”