Later that morning, West headed to his study. He needed to plan his trip to scout for potential trade school locations. While there were a few possibilities on the Hampton estate, he wanted to be sure he found a place that could support students comfortably for many years to come.
West wanted the school to be a success not only because it was a good business venture, but more importantly for the way it could positively impact the students who trained there, giving them the skills needed for sustainable, financially viable careers. He wanted to make change for the good, not simply make money off the backs of others labor with no real gain for the workers themselves.
Looking for the map of the estate the Hampton title held in Cornwall, he shifted a pile of railway proposals John had brought him out of the way. Overall, when it came to business ventures, things were progressing. West was working hard on the school, John was learning all he could about the possibilities for railroads, and Ethan was still considering the land manager position here in Northamptonshire. He only wished there was news regarding theTrade Wind.
None of their plans could move forward without the profits from their investment in the cargo contained on that ship. The fact that it was now overdue into dock since the last report they’d had was keeping West in a state of anxiety. It was no wonder Priscilla had called him out this morning for employing his nervous tic, rubbing the eyebrow he’d split as a boy.
He’d honestly been unaware he was doing the habitual action this morning until she had commented on it. It was something he’d done in moments of stress for years but had never made the association before between the injury and his anxiety. Having relayed the story to her this morning, the connection between the two seemed so obvious, he wasn’t sure why he’d not seen it previously. But it was not a moment he tended to dwell on, even though it shaped the man he had become.
Yet it had been easy for him to share that story with Priscilla this morning. He never had trouble talking with her and usually felt more at ease in her presence. Though different, their upbringings had been similar enough that he felt they understood each other’s motivations, which was why he was sure she had agreed with him last night to discontinue their relationship. Even if it had never been truly real, it was the right thing to do. Their feelings were becoming too complicated, too entwined. In the end, she could never be the one for him, so it was better to let go of that idea now and not tempt fate any further.
But he didn’t regret what had also happened last night, and he wouldn’t deny his attraction to Priscilla from the start. She was a beautiful woman with a warm heart now that life had humbled her, of course he would feel drawn to her. He’d been secretly elated when she had first proposed an affair between them, but thought after all they been through it would never become a reality. That Priscilla had been the one to propose their lovemaking last night had been a lovely surprise.
Being with her was a revelation. He’d experienced pleasurable evenings before, but things were different last night with Priscilla. He knew her better than most women he had engaged with, and it deepened the experience in a way he was still trying to figure out how to handle.
Even now, hours since she’d slipped out of his bedroom, he still felt a buzz about him, and his arms felt empty without her. He'd felt that way once before when they had attempted to make love previously. But now, after having actually coupled with her, the feeling was amplified. It was as if she was always meant to be in them, and she had become an extension of his own body. He hadn’t known to miss the sensation before, but now that he knew what it felt like to be whole, having her within the protection of his embrace, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget the sensation. He ached where she was missing, like a soldier who had returned from battling Napoleon on the continent and was missing a limb.
It wasn’t a healthy feeling, and he needed to focus on the business at hand. But try as he might, he couldn’t bring his mind back to his ledgers. Little moments kept reminding him of Priscilla. He heard a maid laugh in the hallway and for a split second he thought it was her. He couldn’t keep the smile from blooming across his face at the idea.
And then he caught a whiff of her orange blossom scent on his sleeve from when she helped him fasten the buttons on his cuffs this morning, acting as his valet so that Roberts wouldn’t come in and interrupt the intimacy dwelled in as long as possible.
Maybe Priscilla would be open to the idea of having an affair once they returned to London. He knew he would certainly enjoy being with her again, and having partaken once, perhaps she would welcome another encounter.
He simply didn’t want to allow her to walk away from his life completely. Maybe this time, with clear boundaries now established between them, this could work. They would never have to appear in public together and wouldn’t have to feign love and affection for one another, which was how things became muddled between them in the first place. West believed needing to constantly be in Priscilla’s presence, shooting her loving looks and taking her hand, dancing—all the actions needed to maintain the idea they were in love was what had caused confusion. When an action is feigned often enough, it begins to feel real.
But now they knew it wasn’t real and decided to part ways. Everything was clear again, so their feelings could be kept separate. Couldn’t they?
His head began to ache from lack of sleep and the confusing thoughts that wouldn’t stop racing through his mind. West stood to pour himself a splash of whiskey when a knock sounded on the door.
“Come” he said, part of him hoping it might be Priscilla.
A footman entered and gave a small bow. Though West hated such formality, this young man was only following his training as a new employee and trying to be respectful.
“No need for that,” he told the young man once he straightened. “What can I do for you?”
“A note has arrived for you, my lord. From a Mr. Allen in London.”
West closed his eyes in relief. At last.
“Thank you,” West said as he extended his hand. Taking the note from the footman, he had to read it twice to fully comprehend its meaning.
West was not a violent man, but in utter despair, he threw his tumbler against the mantle with all the force he could musterand watched it shatter into a million tiny pieces on the hearth, along with his dreams.
The disturbance in the air from the vigorous motion caused the note to sail off his desk, landing face up on the floor before him, almost as if mocking him, allowing him to read its disastrous proclamation once more:
We have confirmation that the Trade Wind encountered stormy seas and sank off the coast of Portugal two weeks ago. All crew members were lost. None of the cargo has been recovered.
CHAPTER 28
Priscilla was heading past West’s study when she heard the sound of shattering glass. Thinking something was wrong, she knocked on the door, but her concern led her to enter without waiting for a response.
“I heard breaking glass, are you alright?” she asked, slightly panicked. Taking a breath to calm herself, Priscilla examined the scene before her.
West stood rigid. His arms were straight at his sides, his hands rhythmically clenching and unclenching into fists. Head bowed, he was staring at something on the floor. Priscilla approached him gently and soon discovered the source of the shattering she’d heard. Stepping forward she could see shards of glass littering the hearth, a few pieces scattered across the rug. She also smelled alcohol and saw an amber liquid dripping down the mantle onto the floor, mixing in with the glass.
Priscilla wasn’t sure if West was fully aware of her presence, as he remained motionless. She placed her hand on his shoulder, causing him to start at the touch and whip his head around in surprise. His eyes took a moment to focus before he recognized her. When she went to move closer, he halted her, raising a hand.
“No, don’t come any closer. The glass might cut through your slippers, the soles are thin.” She was not actually wearing thin-soled shoes and was in no danger from the glass. But he was clearly upset so she ceased moving anyway to appease him.
