If He Was Your Fan (A Henry Cavill Fanfic)

Part 78: Blue to Green to Blue (Henry POV)

I'd had it:

"Why can't you understand what I am trying to do?" she asked me.

"Jared Oxfordshire is not just interested in a children's library!" I accused.

"That's all I'm interested in!" she cried.

"How about the dressage event?" I ask.

"How about it?" she retorts. "He asked if I was going. I said I wasn't sure. He said I should go—"

I snort at her.

"He didn't ask me to go with him! And I thought you would want to go with me!" she lets out a cry of frustration. "I don't know this world, what I'm doing—"

"You've been with me—"

"This is different!" she interrupts. "Different somehow. There are clubs I am getting invites from, and some are not honorable. Do you know how hard that is-to find who wants to get to know you and who sees you as some sort of token or novelty?"

I swallow hard. She knows I do. "And if I go with you, some may see me as some rake actor trying to connect with your status and fortune?"

"My God, Henry!" she wipes a tear. "You sound like a gossip rag. We were before this ever was. How can you say that? Why is it you had no trouble when they said such things about me and now..." She shakes her head.

"So this is a time of adjustment for you."

"Yes!" She was exasperated.

"Then, maybe I should go back to London—"

Her gasp brings tears to her eyes. "Henry!"

"I don't want to get in the way, just like when you were with me on Witcher and Argylle." I kiss her forehead and give a small smile. "Go on."

She looked sad, but went, just the same to greet Oxfordshire.

I was packing to go home. I had come to spend time with her, and my lady, my Lady Edenvale was knee if not waist deep in projects. So many of them were one time projects, but what of others in the future? And these suitors were never going to stop. Did I have time for this and a career?

And Graham was no help. He wanted me gone. Wilson just watched and gave me looks I couldn't read, but none were good.

"Leaving, sir?"

I turn around to see Wilson standing there. "Things to do in London." I frown at him. "You didn't go with her?"

"Graham loves these things. I go where I'm needed," Wilson tips his chin slightly. "And you, you have things to do here, if you don't mind my saying, sir."

I zip my bag and look at him. "I do?"

He exhales. "So you don't love her."

"How dare you—"

"How dare you," Wilson stands toe to toe with me. "I'm going to show you something." He pulls out his phone and shows me something that happened yesterday. My lady asked me to come with her for tea with one of her guests, and I declined. He pauses it. "Slow it down. Look at her face."

I took the phone and looked at it. She looked as if she would cry. In slow motion, I see the change of feelings on her face-from disappointment to hurt to a tilting chin of defiance, then a small cordial smile and nod. Ouch.

"She needs you and you are abandoning her," Wilson accuses, and takes the phone from me. "Some Kisa you are."

"Kisa?" I repeat, but he leaves.