“Ah,” Monty says. “That must be Wednesday’s issue.”
I lean toward Araminta and glance at the page she’s crying over. It’s theAsk Gladyscolumn. I briefly scan the wordsass playand arch a brow at Gladys himself. “Really, Monty?”
His grin turns sheepish.
I give Araminta a scolding look as I return to my canvas. “Ari, stop fretting over David. You didn’t even like him.”
“That’s not true. I did like him…when I felt like being around him. It was his attention and constant presence I disliked, and he could tell. He said I acted indifferent toward him. What if it was my fault? What if I didn’t do enough to prove I wanted to maintain our relationship?”
“Is that something I have to worry about in courtship?” My lips curl into a grimace. “Do I have to proactively prove I’m interested to keep a lover’s attention?” I’ve never had to worry about this because I’ve never been attracted enough to another person to want something long-term. But what if securing a husband isn’t as simple as finding a compatible specimen with marriage in mind? When I was a debutante, it seemed like there was an abundance of men seeking wives, and it wasn’t a matter of love or interest, but an alignment of needs to be met. Sometimes it was family connections or an attractive dowry. Other times it was a need to procreate or establish a lady of one’s household. Not that I’d know this from personal experience; my debut season didn’t last long enough for me to meet suitors.
“Do not bear that responsibility in any relationship,” Monty says, tone firm. “Neither of you. Otherwise, you’ll be plagued with questions like:Why hasn’t he written or called upon me, even if he said he liked spending time with me and wanted to see me again? Does he not realize I like him? Did I need to encourage him more by proving my interest?”
“That’s what’s going through my head right now,” Araminta says.
“What’s Lesson Four, Daph?” Monty asks.
I perk up at his attention, excited that I know the answer. “A man’s actions should align with his words and vice versa.”
“Exactly. If a man likes you, he won’t care if you like him back. He’ll pursue you to an annoying degree.”
I wrinkle my nose as I sweep my paintbrush over the canvas in delicate lines to form the hero’s hair. “I can attest to that. Conrad won’t stop sending love letters to my workplace. Thank the All of All he doesn’t know where I live.”
Araminta heaves another sob. “David pursued me like that. He liked me deeply and relentlessly. Did I ruin it? Was I wrong to act so cold to him? Why did I want space from such a good man?”
“Only you can answer that,” Monty says. “However, ask yourself if you wanted space out of fear of intimacy or from true discomfort and incompatibility. It’s normal to second-guess yourself when a relationship ends, but is it out of fear that you made a mistake or true regret? There’s a subtle difference, and only you can be the judge.”
Araminta chokes back her tears. After a hiccup, she says, “You sure are wise for someone who has no relationship to show for it.”
Monty chuckles. “I have plenty of relationships to show for it. Just none of my own.”
“Why not?” Araminta rises from the settee to assess Monty with a perplexed look. “Why don’t you just marry Daphne yourself to kill a bunch of birds with rocks, or whatever it is she says?”
My paintbrush slips out of my fingertips and falls to the floor with a clatter.
Araminta continues, oblivious to the daggers I’m shooting at her with my eyes. “Won’t that solve your case study and Daphne’s drinking problem? You’re already using a pseudonym, so why not write about yourself as one of your subjects? You can prove your lessons work by pretending Daphne expertly utilized them to win your heart. And she’ll have the husband she needs to break off her engagement.”
Fire floods my face and neck. How can she bring up such a forward subject, suggesting Monty and I…
I shake the thought from my head. My pulse races. Why did I have to go and tell Araminta about what happened last Lughnasadh and my arrangement with Monty? “Ari, that’s?—”
“I can’t marry anyone.” Monty’s voice is edged with something I can’t quite name. Is it remorse? Anger? Annoyance?
“Why not?” Araminta’s question brims with innocence, and as much as I want this conversation to end and save me from embarrassment, I find myself desperate to hear how he’ll answer.
His throat bobs, and for a moment, I doubt he’ll reply. Then he speaks, each word careful yet still infused with that same edge I sensed before. “I refuse to further my father’s legacy or give him any reason to bring me back into the family. He disinherited me because I vowed never to marry. To never be the son he wants me to be. If I so much as court someone publicly, I am duty-bound to return home and take my place as his heir. Which will make me and my potential partner miserable.”
That’s different from the reason he gave me for not taking lovers when we talked on my rooftop. He said he avoided romance so that he won’t hurt anyone again. But his eyes hold the same haunted look I glimpsed then, which tells me this might be another layer of truth.
“Why do you hate your father so much?” Yet another innocent question from Ari. Another one I crave an answer to.
His eyes remain distant for a few more beats of my racing heart. Then the look is gone, like it was never there to begin with. His lips curve in a crooked grin. “A rake like me can’t be tied down to the tedium of high society. I like it better where I am.”
He winks at Araminta, which seems to satisfy her curiosity enough to return her attention to her broadsheets, but I’m not at all convinced.
I pick up my paintbrush, clean it, and return to my art, more desperate than ever to know the parts of Monty he keeps hidden.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
