Ford's eyes stuck on a piece of molding halfway up the opposite wall while Macnair's fingers combed through his hair. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? You didn't have to! he could have yelled. Sure, Macnair was the oldest son in his family and it was the sort of family who cared about legacies and traditions and things. Ford knew what that was like. He'd grown up with the same vague set of expectations about his own future. All of that had gone out the window, of course, when his father had died and he'd become much more concerned with the Greengrass family present than their future. So Ford knew the pressures of being the oldest son, but he also knew that sometimes things came up that shifted your priorities. Macnair also had a lot of brothers, so it wasn't as though this was all riding on his shoulders alone.

And it wasn't even like Macnair was old enough that people would start wondering why he hadn't married yet. There was no reason at all he'd needed to propose to his cousin, who by all accounts had already secured the attentions of another man. He could have waited until he'd found a woman he actually liked, maybe even loved. He could have picked literally anyone else.

Macnair was upset. It was clear from his tone that he was having quite a moment. Ford had no idea what to say about any of it. "Well," he attempted, wondering if his tone sounded as uncertain as he felt. "It probably won't stay that way?"

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