As ifhewas worth any consideration at all. What had he ever done? What use had he ever been?
“I’d always hoped you’d marry.” His mother’s statement didn’t surprise him. It was the fate of every firstborn son. “Of course, my first wish would’ve been that you didn’t inherit so early at all. But if you’d married… Married men are always steadier. It would’ve done you good.”
He wrinkled his nose from force of habit. Steady and staid and leg shackled, a brood of children clutching at his coattails? No thank you. But that old image was chased out immediately by another, as if someone had cranked the handle on a panorama. Min and George were there, in George’s expansive country home, and there were curly haired boys and curly haired girls all gathered on the rug, pencils rolling everywhere as their mother tried to teach them how to draw.
A man stood in the doorway, watching, a smile on his face because he knew that he had everything. But he was formless, this man, because no matter the stabbing desperation with which he tried to force himself into the frame, it wasn’thim, it was George…
Look who she’d chosen—the very opposite of Jack. All those qualities George was so often teased for, the qualities that Jack himself had often teased the man for, his steadiness and sense, his meticulous approach to family and finance, his quiet prudence, never drinking to excess, never gaming, never betting, immune to the pressures of friends and fashion… Yes, they made him slow company sometimes, but good God, how Jack now esteemed those qualities.
They were the pearl-white steps, they were the pure marble that led to that heaven…to Min at his side, united as one, as God only knew they were always surely meant to have been…if he wasn’t so blind, if he wasn’t so stupid, if he hadn’t been led astray by youth and vanity and ignorance…
Devil take his fortune. He’d lost the only thing worth having. Of all the bets and ridiculous purchases he’d had ever made, what thing of worth had he ever gained?
He was left with absolutely nothing.
“It will get out, I suppose?” His mother’s sad caution broke into his despair. “Is there any way to stop people learning the state of things?”
Jack shook his head. It felt heavy as stone. “I’m not about to advertise. But I’ll have to sell some land, a property or two. My stable… Everyone will notice when half my horses appear at Tattersalls.”
He flinched as his mother’s cold hand suddenly gripped his. “You could marry.” Her voice was a hiss. “Jack…there are so many lovely girls in town, and you must still be eligible, you’re still an Orton, still a viscount—”
“I’ll not become a wretched fortune hunter!” He pulled his hand away, flushed with shame at the idea, then feeling even more sordid at talking so to his mother. He gentled himself with a deep breath, taking her hand back in his. “That is not the solution, Mother. I already know what I must do. I’ll not take some poor girl’s fortune to cover my own mistakes.”
“But isn’t there… Isn’t…” She hesitated, lips pressing together as she tried to find words he had no wish to hear. “Nell wrote to me, you see. I heard about little Lucy Fanshaw, dear little Lucy!” He took his hand away, sweat prickling cold across his shoulders, but she continued. “How fond of her we always were, and now with this good fortune that has come her way… Well, if there’s any girl in the world who’d marry you when you didn’t have a stitch to your own name, it’s Lucy. You must know how much she’s always loved—”
Jack stood up, pulse buzzing in his ears. Unbearable, this!
“Mother, stop.” He was forced to take another deep breath. “Lucy is… Lucy doesn’t…” But damn it, he couldn’t tell her about George, the engagement wasn’t public.Lucy is getting married, Mother. Lucy loves George. Lucy has found someone who deserves her and it sure to hell isn’t me.
“I’m no fortune hunter,” he repeated. “And Lucy… Lucy will only ever be my friend.”
It didn’t stop his mother, however. And, when he finally extricated himself and left, heartsore in a whole new way, he returned after his weeks travelling the country, intending to update his mother on the actions he’d taken, only to find her packed and intent upon a visit to Town. Her delicate health already made the journey slow. But it was made longer still by her repeating the same hope regarding him and Lucy in a hundred different ways for the full three days it took. Jack opted to spend a great deal of time riding outside the carriage.
It was late when they arrived at Nell’s house. They were expected, a letter having been sent ahead of them. All Jack’s guilt and all his mother’s woeful sighs hadn’t persuaded him to open up the Grosvenor Square house for the visit. The cost was unthinkable, as much as it galled him to admit it. Lord Ashburton could host his mother-in-law, and where else was more natural, besides, for her to stay than under the same roof as her daughters?
He told himself this when he finally left her settled, knowing it was sensible, however much it chafed his pride.
Pride?Hah! What hadheto be proud of? There was even a note of quiet censure in Dalcher’s eyes as the butler welcomed him home. It was a feeling he’d have to get used to. His valet, his cook…they’d all deplore the loss in status. They might even leave him. Half the beaus in town coveted his valet; Gribson could easily be tempted away. And what of Jack’s friends? He did a mental review and came to the sad conclusion that only George, and probably Tom Parling, perhaps Pennington too, would stick with him and treat him much as they’d ever done.
And Min… His steps faltered as he entered the sanctuary of his bed chamber, hand slowly dropping from the handle and coming up to hide his exhausted face. Min would be sorry for him. And Min would know she’d been right all along. He couldn’t bear the thought of telling her.
It was eleven o’clock, his pocket watch told him. The one on his mantelpiece almost agreed. He’d spent the day wishing for his bed, but now he was here, he felt too restless to retire. Too many thoughts in his head, too many worries chasing one after another through his blood the way branches are twisted this way and that in a storm.
Normally he would’ve sought out George, but the kindest and best of his friends could be no refuge now. Neither could Min. He’d face them tomorrow, after he’d slept, when the feeling ofthe road wasn’t griming his skin and the rattling of carriage wheels didn’t pound his skull.
He’d tell them, explain his flight from town. And God, despite it all, he wanted to see them. He wanted to see Min and her dear, lovely face. Hear the voice of his oldest friend, the one who’d been there to witness all the foolish scrapes of his boyhood and still seemed to like him, somehow, though he couldn’t think why.
Awful as it would be to tell her, nothing would seem so bad if she was still his friend. He wanted to hear her voice, wanted the soft pity in her silver eyes and the consoling touch of her hand on his…
No. God. What was he thinking?Thatcould be no comfort at all.
“Lucy will only ever be my friend.”
How many times had he said that to his mother? Too many to count, and it’d been the refrain that accompanied him wherever he went the past weeks and whatever he did, drummed into the earth by his horse’s hooves, sounded out with every step he took. And though, especially at night, he was dismally aware he’d had more lascivious thoughts about Min in the last two weeks than he’d had about Miss Sedgewick in the entire two years of their acquaintance, it was a fact that friends were all they could ever be.
Caroline… He winced. He’d courted her because it was right for a man to court someone and he enjoyed her company. She was fun and smart and without pretension. But really…had they ever been any more than friends? She’d never kept him awake at night or made his heart race. He sought her out like he sought out George or anyone else, except she wore a dress and was attractive, and so he’d thought…he’d thought their friendship was something else. And he’d thought Min…he’d thought Lucy… God. It was such a muddle.
It was the waltz,he told himself.It’ll be different when I see her again.
