For a man who has lived most of his life in a permanent state of anger, one would think that Gerald would be able to manage this emotion better than most. The truth was that he did. Up until yesterday.
From the moment Arabella had her outburst, he had been walking in a haze filled with such conflicting emotions that he had never felt before. In his life, on the off chance that he actually felt something, it was sharp, cold, clean, and focused. But for the first time, Gerald was not sure what exactly he was feeling.
A monster. That‘s what she called him. It was not the first time that Gerald heard those words addressed to him, whether it was in business, in Parliament, or across a ballroom. They always flew over his head; he never gave much value to what people thought about him.
And yet, seeing Arabella attack him with that same accusation stung deep into his pride. Because, against all logic, somehow her opinion mattered to him.
Perhaps it was the fact that she had provided him with the most fun he had had for years, even his whole life. It was maybe the way she didn‘t cower, she didn‘t simper, she didn‘t beg or cry or break down into hysterics. She simply fought with the means given to her in the situation that she was in. She fought valiantly, with wit and grace. And he loved every moment of it. From the annihilation of ice to that ridiculous hat.
Then again, he would be lying to himself if he didn‘t admit that it was something more. He desired Arabella with a force that he had never experienced. Under his wounded pride and his fury, he couldn‘t forget, not even one detail of the moment they shared in that carriage. He kept replaying the taste of her lips, the feel of her tongue against his, the sound of her moans, the warmth of her body, the way it melted under his touch. And he lived in a perpetual state of desire, his body still chasing that intense yet serene feeling he felt when he was tangled in her skirts.
“Darn it, Arabella!” he hissed into the night.
If he stayed in his home alone with these thoughts any longer, he would go crazy. He grabbed his coat, his cane, his hat, and his gloves, and he rushed out. The carriage was brought round, and he flew into London to his gentlemen‘s club, where he would have to control himself.
The moment he stepped in, he sought out Morgan. He was, after all, the only person who knew the whole truth. And sure enough, he found Morgan at his usual spot, nursing his favorite brandy.
“By Jove, Gerald!”
Morgan sprang out of his armchair the moment he saw him. As his friend approached, Gerald could see that Morgan was really worried about him.
“What on earth has happened to you?” Morgan asked.
“It can‘t be that obvious, surely.”
“I have known you many years, Gerald, and I must say I‘ve seen you in your ups and your downs. Well, mostly downs, but you get the gist. And I must say I am surprised that it was even lower than down.”
Gerald said nothing, just went to the bar, got a full glass of whiskey, then he downed it in one gulp and asked for another.
“I admire your dedication to getting intoxicated as fast as possible,” Morgan scoffed, “but before you pass out, would you care to explain to me what exactly has brought you to this situation?”
Gerald took the filled glass and made his way to the quietest corner of the gentlemen‘s club. He sat down and looked at the amber liquid as if it held all the answers that he required.
“Enough of the mysterious act!” Morgan demanded. “Is it about Miss Arabella?”
The moment her name was mentioned, Gerald’s body tensed. His grip on the glass made his knuckles go white, and his sharp inhale marked his turbulence.
“We can safely assume that whatever it is, it has to do with Miss Arabella,” Morgan concluded. “What did you do?”
“What makes you think I did something?”
“I could mention all the times that you have been responsible for bringing people into the same situation that you are now. But seeing that you are so focused on losing your senses tonight, let‘s spare each other time, and you tell me what you did.”
Gerald drank his whiskey. Then looked at the empty glass and scoffed at the nice little allegory of his life. Because right now, he strangely felt equally empty.
“We went out for a promenade at Hyde Park. There was an incident with an old lady that we had to help back to her home.”
“So you‘re telling me that you were promenading during the daytime and helped another human being in their time of need? On the same day?” Morgan mocked. “My friend, I am really worried about you.”
“You should worry about yourself more if you keep talking.”
“Fine, Your Grace,” Morgan bowed in complete defiance. “I am all ears.”
“We found ourselves alone in the carriage.”
Morgan‘s ears perked up.
“You‘re very particular about staying alone with another woman.”
