Chapter One #2
“Honestly? Besides being alone for too long? I believe I’m too broken to subject any woman to what lurks beneath the surface.
” He rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “Being invited to balls and routs, asked to talk about my time in the military, in India, used to be entertaining for me. But these days, it’s just a chore. ”
“How so?”
He shrugged and wished he were anywhere but in his drawing room.
“Society wants the stories. They want the gore and angst. They want their thirst for blood assuaged by tales that feed into their prejudices and fears. As if the killing somehow justifies any of it.” A wave of hot anger rose in his chest. No, a year and a half hadn’t been enough time away from his military days.
“None of that is what really happened in those theaters of war, but my pension isn’t enough to live off of, so I take the speaking engagements and pocket the coin.
I pay the bills, the rent, try to entertain myself and the handful of mistresses I’ve had since coming home.
” He met his best friend’s compassionate gaze.
“It’s not enough to offer salvation, or at least a pardon from the things I’ve done. ”
Damn, but he’d never admitted that to anyone.
Slowly, the earl nodded. “You never loved any of those women?”
“I only wanted the physical connection. The rest of me—the real me—like it or not, is hidden behind walls and locked away, a relic of the past you might say.” Through the heated anger, a wave of panic broke, and that terrified him, for what would happen if he released it?
“I fear in many ways I don’t know who I truly am, these days. ”
And he’d not been a man he’d enjoyed for far too many years. Since before he’d gone away to war, surely.
“Well, I hope something breaks for you soon that might offer help,” Birchfield said, with sincerity in his expression. “Hell, I hope for the same for me.” He leaned forward and refreshed his teacup. “In other news, I happened to visit with Penny the other day.”
“Oh?” Cornelius’s heart beat a tad quicker at the mention of the earl’s sister.
They’d had a bit of a history together, or rather, there had been the hint of a hope of that for him years and years ago, when he’d been younger and foolish.
Unfortunately, he’d lost touch with her since the post hadn’t been reliable in India, and then once she married, she didn’t write as frequently.
Whether on her own decision or from a dictate from the marquess, he didn’t know. “How is she doing with her husband?”
“You hadn’t heard? My sister lost her husband a couple of years ago. The marquess perished in a hunting accident.”
Shock slammed into his chest. “I’m sorry to hear that. She must have been devastated.” Or perhaps she wasn’t. It might prove difficult to tell, since her parents had arranged that particular match.
“Well enough. She’s out shopping with Mama this afternoon.
” The earl shrugged as if his sister’s wellbeing didn’t matter overly much.
“I’m hoping she’ll stumble upon a new suitor at one of the Valentine’s events this week.
She needs to be married, for my mother is anxious to have my future settled.
Says it’s embarrassing to have both her children unwed without offspring. ”
Cornelius nodded. “What does Penelope want?” Though her family had always referred to her by her shortened name, he never had, for her given name was far too beautiful not to use.
“I couldn’t say. She has only just returned to Town, for she stayed at Weymouth’s country estate to help with the transition when his younger brother finally arrived, and the title was transferred.”
“Ah, I see. Does she stay with you?”
“No, at Weymouth’s St. James townhouse until the new marquess decides to take up residence there. At last I heard, he plans to arrive by month’s end or mid-March. Since he’d never planned to become the marquess, he had other interests regarding business.”
That made sense. “Shall I call and offer my condolences, late as they are?”
Long ago, before he’d left England for India, Penelope had given him a ring made of her braided hair.
It had been a trinket exchanged between him and the young woman who’d sent him off to war with a memento.
During that clandestine meeting one summer evening, he’d been a bit in his cups, for they’d all been at Birchfield’s country estate—when the old earl had been alive—and he’d met her in the hedge maze on her father’s property.
There, hidden away, they’d gotten up to scandal with passionate kisses, and she’d let him pleasure her with his fingers and mouth beneath her skirting.
Coaxing her into her first sexual release surrounded by the nocturnal sounds under the stars had been one of the memories that had kept him grounded during some of the ghastlier missions he’d been sent on.
But she had always been beyond his reach, destined to marry a man far higher up in society than him. And that night remained a secret between them, for her brother—his best friend—would put a ball in Cornelius’s heart if he ever found out.
Birchfield shook his head. “I would rather you did not. I don’t want my sister anywhere near your orbit. You’re naught but a rogue, and as I’ve always told you, she is much too good for you.”
Damn, so that sentiment hadn’t cooled over the years. “Oh, I’m well aware of that.” Equally annoying was the fact that knowing where he stood with his best friend and his sister still stuck in his craw.
Of course, that is what he thought too, yet Penny had been the only woman to have ever made an impression, who had once held his heart in her hands even if she’d never known it.
Yes, he’d been the fool half a world away to think himself in love with his best friend’s sister, the woman he could never have.
When the word came that she’d married a marquess, he’d forced himself to forget about her, to put her from his mind out of necessity.
He’d gone on to finish his stint in the military, only having to quit when an injury had sent him home to languish in a hospital for half a year.
Once he finally healed—physically—he had to learn how to meld into society as a civilian, but he’d been forever haunted by that time with Penelope and what might have been if things—if he’d—been different.
Knowing she was still far beyond his reach, he’d pulled on the disguise of being a rake, burying his stupid hopes and dreams into that persona, but none of those women ever came up to the mark that was Penny.
“Don’t come the crab with me, Montgomery.” The earl shot him a cheeky grin. “I’ve known you since we were children. It is my duty to protect my sister.”
“You act as if I’m the devil incarnate, though.”
“Aren’t you?” Birchfield chuckled. “I’ve never seen you about Town without a different woman on your arm each month. You have no ambition other than seeing what vice of the moment you can exploit. And you certainly don’t have the income enough to keep any woman—let alone my sister—in style.”
He put a hand over his heart. “Damn, you certainly know how to cut a man to his quick.”
“Can I help it if I want the best for my sister?”
“Even though you didn’t oppose her first marriage?”
Another hint of ruddy color went up Birchfield’s neck. “That was different.”
Perhaps but perhaps not. It didn’t matter now. “Well, I’m rather hoping Lady Fowler will be the next to come under my protection. She’s known in certain circles as quite adventurous in bedroom endeavors. I could use inventive new ways to get my rocks off.”
Since taking mistresses is apparently the only thing I’m good for.
God, what a horrid way to go through life. Yet at the back of his mind, he couldn’t forget how hopeful he’d been all those years ago when he had nothing to worry about in life except to wonder if Penny would wish to receive his kisses.
Before the war got to him and changed him forever.