“Only Olivia can judge that.”
Leith shrugged.“Anyone who sees her cannot doubt her happiness with you.”
“Leith,” Monty said, moving towards him.“You left Beatrice in Somerset?”
Leith felt his throat constrict.And he realized, mortifyingly, that he wasn’t going to be able to stop from weeping.“She told me to leave,” he said, his voice coming out wavering.He turned away so that he wouldn’t have to look at his best friend.
“Do you love her?”
Leith closed his eyes.“It doesn’t matter.She won’t have me.And I am so sorry, Monty.You told me not to bed her.And I did.At first, I intended to keep my promise.But she told me that she would tell you that I asked her to do depraved things—that I was a beast—and I couldn’t have you thinking ill of me.”
Monty froze.“You thought I would believe such a thing?”
“Why wouldn’t you?After what I did to you and Olivia.I know you never forgave me.Not really.Because how could you?”
He was aware that his face was wet now.He had never cried in front of Monty before.He was sure of it.Nor any of his friends.John, Trem, and Monty—as boys, they had been more emotional than he, whether in anger or sadness.He had seen each of them cry tears of rage, at least.But never him.He had remained, always, aloof.
“Leith,” Monty said, stepping forward, and touching his shoulder.“I have forgiven you.I forgave you months ago.”
“That can’t be true.”
“It is.If you haven’t forgiven yourself, then that is a different matter.But do not torture yourself on my account.Or Olivia’s.”
“How could you forgive me, Monty?”He looked back at his friend, needing to understand.“I have been separated from Beatrice for two days and I feel like I will die.And you endured thirteen years.”
Monty shook his head, his eyes exceptionally kind.“You did a foolish thing.And I will not lie.It caused us pain.When I first found out, you may remember, I throttled you.But, Leith, such a small thing, a letter written by a scared young man, should not have become between Olivia and I.Or it wouldn’t, if we had been surer of each other, more careful.You were not the only heedless youth of that summer.”
“What do you mean?”
Monty laughed.“For one, your letter did not sound like me at all.You probably do not remember, but you signed it with mytitle.Do you think I was signing out,Lord Montaigne, in the love notes I was leaving to the woman I was bedding night and day?I assure you that I was not.”
“I do not understand.”He and Monty had never spoken of these details.He had not realized, he saw now, that Olivia and Monty would have spoken of such things.But now he saw that, of course, they would have.
“Olivia sees now that she shouldn’t have believed it of me.But more than that, Leith, I should have made my intentions to her clearer.No, more than that, I should havethoughtof my intentions.She thought I was just a lord having a summer’s worth of fun.That she was just a maid.I never asked her to marry me.I never thought beyond the next time she would be in my bed.I was too young to understand that the feelings I had for her were of the rarest kind and that I could not take chances.”
Leith felt some relief trickle through him at this explanation.He supposed, put in this light, his sins did not appear as black as he had deemed them.
“Oh,” he said, swallowing roughly.“I see.”
“And I would have never believed Beatrice.You would never demand that an unwilling woman commit depraved acts—whateverthat means—for your pleasure.That is not who you are.”
Leith tried to wipe away his tears with as much dignity as he could manage.But it only seemed to make them flow harder.
“Brother,” Monty said.“Come here.”
His best friend embraced him.At first, he kept his body stiff, humiliated at his complete lack of composure.
“It is all right,” Monty said.“It will all come to rights.I promise.”
And that is how Leith found himself sobbing on his best friend’s shoulder.It helped that he knew Monty understood.As he had said in his letter, Monty knew him too well to think that it had been anything less than the deepest feelings that had driven him to Somerset.Monty knew how fond Leith was of order, of routine, and that Leith would only disrupt his life under the influence of truly transformative emotions.
After a few minutes, Leith found that he felt better—and Monty patted him on the head and moved to ring for tea.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the only remaining armchairs in the room.“I won’t let you leave until you’ve had one of Mrs.Phelp’s scones.And there is more I have to say to you besides.”
Leith sat there in pleasant numbness, allowing Monty to direct his actions.His former self would have wanted to die after showing such weakness in front of one of his friends, even Monty—but now he could hardly understand why.
Once the footman had brought the refreshments, Monty pinned him with an ironic gaze and said, “I do feel somewhat guilty myself.I did not think you would take my warning about bedding Beatrice so seriously.”
