Lets go back half an hour or so in time!
Edith is still sleeping. The two men are sitting with their tea cups at the table in the kitchen of the apartment that was once Gregson's and is now - well, who knows, the juridical implications of Gregson return are rather uncertain.
...
Bertie wondered if he ought to introduce himself. But he didn't know how to do it. He didn't want to brag about his title, so he couldn't well say he was the Marquess of Hexham. He could of course have said that he was Mr. Pelham, but that wasn't really true any longer.
And how could Bertie explain what he was doing in Edith's apartement without leaving a stain on Edith's reputation? Although he was fairly certain that Gregson could draw his own conclusion.
Gregson didn't even understand that he had reason to be jealous. He wasn't usually so obtuse, but right now he was too tired to even think. He was so utterly exhausted.
He only wanted to go to bed and get some sleep.
...
Bertie wondered if he ought be jealous of Gregson. Edith had once loved this man, she had a child with him, she would have been happy to marry him if he just hadn't disappeared. Perhaps she still wanted to do that when she found out that he was still alive...
But how could Bertie be jealous of this sick and broken old man, when he himself had the juices and the memories of Edith's and his lovemaking so fresh on his body and in his mind?
No, he wasn't afraid that Edith would prefer Gregson. Not one bit.
Perhaps he was overconfident there, which was very much unlike him. But he did know by now how much Edith loved him. He knew for certain that she would have been willing to marry him even at the time when he had nothing to offer to her but his salary as an agent.
It was only her secret that had made her hesitate. The secret that she had been afraid to tell because she knew that many people would have considered it to be shameful.
The only thing that frightened Bertie right then was that Gregson might want to take Marigold away from Edith. But he couldn't do that, could he. Edith was the only parent mentioned on Marigold's birth-certificate. Bertie had seen it. Father - unknown, it stated. Edith had said she had no way to mention Gregson since he was married to someone else. And disappeared - it gave him no chance to deny it.
...
The two men kept drinking their tea in silence. There didn't seem much more to say.
...
After more than half an hour of silence they heard the bedroom door open. Just a moment later the naked Edith stepped into the kitchen.
"Oh, Bertie! I was afraid you had left", she said with a sigh of relief.
It took her another moment to realise that Bertie wasn't alone in the kitchen.
AN: Thank you for reading! Thank you for the lovely comments to last chapter!
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I just want to correct one misunderstanding. Actually, in this story, Edith doesn't make love to Bertie to prove to him that she loves him more than Gregson. That was the theme of another story by me, A Better Man, but not of this one. I like to do things differently in each story. What is the use of writing the same story over and over again?
In this story Edith hadn't planned anything, it just happened. Because she loves Bertie and because I wanted Bertie to be there with her when Gregson came back, to make the story better.
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But it is just a story, after all. This is my version of Edith and Bertie and Michael.
I started writing this story because I was curious how it could be to come back after almost four years to a place where everyone thinks you are dead and has moved on with their lives.
That is what I enjoy in writing - imagination. To imagine what it is like to be someone entirely different from me. A newborn baby, a pig or even Michael Gregson.