Alfred took his time in answering, but Evander was, eventually, gratified for his grand relinquishment by a thank you. (Well, it’s an eyesore anyway, he refrained from adding, not wanting to cheapen the sacrifice of the gesture now.) Still, if he had hoped the conversation would come to a close with that agreed, before he could get up and make some excuse to leave the room or to clear his throat and change the subject, Alfred had asked him something else.

“Er, not yet,” Evander said, swallowing. “Something from in the family, maybe,” he offered tentatively; but it still felt too soon to express anything solid on this, like tempting fate needlessly. “But I’d rather not get too ahead of ourselves, after – after what –” He frowned, mouth a tight line. What happened last time. Alfred had been with them at the Sanditon and had seen the state Caroline was in after the storm; but even Evander hadn’t known she was pregnant then, so all that had come afterwards. As far as he could recall, he hadn’t confided in Alfred then (– had he ever confided in Alfred? had he, for that matter, ever confided in anyone? –), so unless Caroline had mentioned anything to them, perhaps this all sounded like nonsense.

“What about you?” Evander asked, forcibly light, and determined to move on before his thoughts grew dour. “Names? When is yours due?”

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