Just some trivial affair

a matter of convenience

"I think we ought to consider a divorce, don't you?"

Of all the things that could hang heavy in the air following the man's flippant comment, the only thing that seemed to carry any real substance was the wispy plume of smoke that curled from his lips. 

"Oh naturally, I have had much the same thought for quite some time."

There was no more real gravitas to this statement than there was for what it was meeting, the needlepoint that the woman was working on having taken far more of a priority in her mind than bothering with the conversation did.

This actually won a small sound that was trying very hard to not be a laugh from Lord Henry, nose wrinkled with far too much amusement than he wished to admit to. This, alongside the dusting constellation of freckles across his cheeks brought with it a boyish charm that, when he was of an age that he thought such an impression was better suited, had charmed many a lovely young lady and charming young men (he had found the latter to be far more preferable, but he was not so foolish as to run about shouting it from rooftops or something equally dramatic) but now proved a rather bitter mockery of years that had slipped by, of pleasures that now lay just out of reach no matter how he reached for them. 

"Good," came his reply, "I do so terribly enjoy it when others agree with me, have I ever told you that?"

"Far too often." Lady Victoria returned, flashing him a teasing smile that had managed to survive the passage of time. Even as the first streaks of grey showed in her hair, unsure if it wanted to be considered blonde or brown, she always did manage to carry a strange timelessness to her that she carried with far more ease than the man lounging lazily across from her did. 

Perhaps it was the woman's determination to not just accept his nonsense as he offered it that meant they had managed to carry on as they had for so long. It had not been a marriage of any grand romantic notion, but they were friends. They had been friends before, long enough to understand that they simply were not going to find any happiness in a conventional marriage. His fondness for his fellow man was not of the sort one ought to discuss in public, but to both of their immense convenience, she quite understood this as he seemed to have all the fondness for men that she did not, just as she had the fondness for women that he scoffed at. It was all very convenient, really. 
They agreed it would be mutually beneficial for them to become legally entangled as her parents were alarmingly insistent she get herself a husband, and he had gotten caught in the arms of one of his college fellows and was not quite so capable of diverting a scandal as he grew to become. Truthfully, neither could say they expected it to have even lasted as long as it had, but it was certainly useful.

"Is there any particular reason you feel now is the right time to go our separate ways?" questioned Victoria. She paused her needlepoint for a moment, not to give any more credence to the conversation, but rather to hold it to the light to assess her work.

"No, but likewise there is no real reason why it should not be now," came Henry's reply, "This has been all well and good, but there is no time like the present to make some great change or another."

"Even if it turns out to be a mistake?" returned she, a waver of amusement clear in her tone.

"Especially if it is a mistake," he replied, "I do not think you or I are so terribly old that we cannot make a few more grand mistakes, and I dare say a divorce could make for a truly magnificent mistake if we were to let it be one."

Victoria, who at present did not have anyone who she felt she needed to impress, let out a little giggle at this. While it was true that neither of them were quite as young as they once were (she secretly delighted in the fact that despite the man's public insistence that the were the same age, she was a year younger than he was and so if she was feeling particularly cheeky or annoyed with him it was all too easy to use that against him) it was nice to think that they were not quite spent yet. 

"I do hope Phoebe will understand," Victoria mused, "You don't think she is a tad too young for this, is she?"

"Would you suggest we wait until she takes in Emily's footsteps and resents wholeheartedly then?"

"Oh, I don't think she would resent you, she really is quite fond of you," returned she, pausing to allow the man to snort indignantly, "Truly, I mean it. Emily was always an independent child, far more than her sister when she was so young. And don't worry," she paused, a mischievous  twinkle in her green-grey eyes, "She has yet to realise it was that charming pretty boy of yours, Mr. Gray, who has been the one to arrange her birthday gifts for the last few years."

"You figured it out then? Good," Henry returned, "I would have been disappointed if you had not."

"You are far better at hiding your affairs than you are when you've simply forgotten something." A beat.  "And might I add, not quite as good at hiding them as I am."

"Oh yes, somebody new then?"

"Perhaps."

"Somebody I know?"

"Possibly."

"Good, Henry grinned, "I shall make a point of feigning obliviousness if somebody or another takes it upon herself to behave oddly around me then. It would be a shame to lose the charm that secrecy can bring an affair, If there's no risk of being caught, I cannot see any point in carrying on the silly little entanglements any longer than necessary."

"Disregarding, of course, the pursuit of some deep and meaningful connection with another based on mutual affections and interests, or something of that ilk?" Victoria queried.

"Meaningful connection?" the man echoed, "How terribly dull, all that mutual feelings and good will spoils the passions of one's entanglements far too quickly."

"That is where you and I differ, Henry," remarked she, "I fear that if you were ever to care for anyone at all that is not yourself it shall be the death of you."

It had been quite unintentional, but Victoria happened to time her comment perfectly to coincide with a particularly dramatic stab of her needle. The flower that her thread was drawing out was only half formed, but it was not quite what she had been planning on when she had started out. How annoying it was when the little things started trying to play at being a metaphor for life! 

The silence that they were both perfectly accustomed to crept up over them, her to her needlepoint, he to thumbing through a novel he seemed entirely uninvested in. It was far from uncommon for such a scene to play out, one of them (typically Henry) would say something perfectly outrageous, they would entertain it for a while, then they would grow bored of it and nothing would really come of it in the end. 

"I don't think I would like to have to navigate through the legal system at the moment." Henry remarked, dumping ash into the nearby ashtray.

"No, I feel there are far better ways we could spend our time at the moment. It would be a shame to have to find a suitable justification for any of it anyhow." returned she, severing the thread with her little silver threads, pondering the other colours she had on hand. 

"Quite, it sounds terribly dull," he remarked flippantly, "So, shall we carry on as we were then?"

"Yes, I suppose we shall."

And with that, nothing much happened at all. Lord Henry would light a second cigarette when the first burnt away. Lady Victoria would set aside her needlepoint in favour of a book of her own, one of those dreadful penny fictions that one of her friends recommended in such a way that left her seriously questioning her friend's taste in literature. At some point they left for a perfectly unremarkable dinner in town, which served more to be seen together than any real investment in setting out to do anything together. 

They would, at some point, actually go through with the divorce, but not until the youngest of their two children had come of age. Not until there was no longer any real reason to remain married. They remained friends, for that was what they had always been, but they rarely met again.
But that was not for some time. No, until then, they fell back into the same routine they always held. Routines, Lord Henry had always claimed, were a dreadful thing to get stuck in, but there was a safety to the familiarity of them, so for a time, no matter what else he did, there was some form of structure to ground the hedonist to the earth.
And when he would have far preferred to float away, be lost in the delights that life had to offer? Well, he always had Dorian Gray and the life they shared to relieve him of the looming threats of the common tediousness of the modern age.