Her gaze narrowed. “Leopold! Did yousleepin the library last night?”
He grimaced. “Yes, but as I said, it was a long and trying day.”
“Is this about Clay’s impending nuptials?” she asked softly.
“No.”
Yes.
Partially, anyway. It was about living his life beneath the thumb of the League and all his infinite duties. About realizing his brother was about to find happiness, and he would never find his own because he no longer had the capacity to feel.
“It is about Jane, is it not?”
He frowned, thinking of the perfect pink lips he had kissed, the compelling sadness in her eyes, the way her voluptuous frame had felt against him. “The governess? Of course not. Why should she concern me?”
Lily raised a brow. “I was referring to Lady Jane Reeves, now the Duchess of Ashelford.”
Damn it.
“Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat, aware his cheekbones were scalding hot and likely red.Devil take it, he never flushed. Never showed a weakness. Except before Lily Ludlow, it would seem. “I cannot deny weddings grieve me.”
As did Jane.
Jane.Beautiful, golden-haired Lady Jane Reeves, who had stolen his heart and then mashed it to bits with her defection. She had been promised to him, and yet she had thrown him over for another. When last he had seen her, she had been happy, belly swollen with Ashelford’s get. Little wonder why he no longer participated in societal whims. He had no time, nor did he care for reminders of the crushing sting of betrayal.
He preferred not to think of her, but Lily’s mentioning of Jane sent a crashing wave of memory over him. The sort that could only be stymied with more drink. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to find the strength to abstain. He was pleased for his brother. No one deserved happiness more. No one deserved love more.
As long as the Duchess of Burghly was worthy of him.
“Your brother is marrying the woman he loves at long last,” Lily said. “I know it will be difficult for you, but nothing will please him more than having you at his side.”
“She makes him happy?” he asked his mother, for the question had eaten at him for his entire trip to the countryside. He knew what it was like to believe himself in love with a woman. To believe that love was returned. And then, to have it all torn away from him as if it had never been.
“Yes. She loves him, and he loves her.” Lily’s expression softened, a smile curving her lips. “I want more babes, Leo, and they shall give me those. You must as well, with the right woman. At the right time.”
Those two things did not exist, but he didn’t bother informing her of that. He had learned his lesson, and he had learned it well. Dallying was well and good. Slaking his needs. His heart had died a long time ago, and nothing remained but a blackened husk where it had once beat.
He inclined his head. “I am happy for the two of them. The duchess seems to be a good woman.”
“The best,” Lily agreed. “And now I must have both my sons so happily situated. I shall go into my dotage the happiest grandmother in all the world.”
He frowned. “Iamhappily situated, Mother.”
He had the League. He had his duties. He had two dozen men beneath him, all awaiting his orders. He had lives to protect, loyalties and oaths to uphold. That was what made him content, what made him feel at home.
Sadness lurked in her eyes, her expression sobering. “And is that why you spent last evening sleeping in the library and why you stink of spirits?”
Ah, hell.
The answer to that question was simply, hopelessly complicated: yes and no. More no than yes. Or perhaps it was more yes than no?
Damn him for drinking so bloody much swill at the tavern and then upon his arrival. His head felt as it were stuffed with jeweler’s cotton.
He decided a change of subject was in order. “I have come bearing good news for Clay. The Crown is bestowing a viscountcy upon him in recognition of his service. He will become Lord Stanwyck.”
“Oh, Leo!” Lily wrapped him in another impulsive hug. “I know how hard you fought for him. Thank you. You are a good brother.”
The back of his neck itched, but he returned her embrace just the same. Emotions were a devilishly tricky thing for him. He did not like the unfettered showing of them. “Clay earned the right with his dedication and selfless devotion.”
