Chapter 19
Nineteen
Alaric returned to an empty home, something that once felt natural to him but was now tainted in ways he hadn’t expected.
The staff were nowhere to be seen when he walked through the front doors, and with the dark of night steadily arriving, it seemed to smother him and the castle both so that he could hardly breathe.
Was it a mistake? Telling my uncle to see Clara leave… believing him in the first place, as he played into my fears as only he ever could.
Alaric walked through the empty castle, the sound of his shoes echoing off the wooden flooring and carrying throughout the barren castle as if mocking him.
Not so long ago, he had been used to the sound; he had welcomed it, accepting that he was destined to live and die alone because that was all that he deserved.
But Clara had changed that for a time, bringing life into this castle so that for a short period there, he had begun to remember how it felt to not be so alone…
No! Do not dare try to convince yourself that this was not the right thing.
His uncle had been right to remind Alaric of the danger he posed, should someone he cared for grow too close to him.
Alaric had tried to ignore that side of himself, the past that haunted him, wanting to believe that he had changed.
But what if he hadn’t? What if he was doomed to repeat his past?
It was Clara’s safety that he did this for, his own sense of loneliness be damned!
Not that this made him feel any better, and he ached to think of how much pain this had surely brought Clara. To counter this sadness that crept up in him, he retired early to his study, set on drinking the night away so it might be forgotten.
Hours passed by when he heard someone calling him.
Alaric sat up quickly, his head spinning, but his hope rising because for a second he dared to wonder if it was Clara returned. If she had, he would know truly how she felt for him, and he would tell her the truth of everything and let her decide for herself.
But when Alaric breached his study and started down the hall, he recognized the voice that called through the house. He grimaced and thought to ignore it, but he could not bring himself to. Asodd as it was to think, Alaric was alone in a dark, empty house and desperate for company.
“I thought nobody was home,” Sebastian, the Duke of Eastmoor, announced when he spied Alaric at the top of the staircase. “Although I suppose this dreary sod of a castle always has that effect.”
“Most would assume as much and turn around before breaking in.” Alaric started down the steps, swaying slightly from the effect of the drink.
“Most are not me,” Sebastian chuckled. “And most do not know you as I do.”
“And yet here you are.” Alaric reached the bottom landing and stopped, sighing loudly just in case his friend had failed to notice his depressed state. “If you knew me as you said, I doubt you would be here at all.”
“With a greeting as warm as this, I am starting to wonder why I bothered.”
“Why did you?”
He was being rude, he knew. Just as he knew that Sebastian of all people would not care.
A shame too, as a large part of Alaric would have liked to have frightened the man away so he could continue to wallow in self-pity, just as another part wanted him to stay.
Not that I would ever tell him as such. Not that he would expect it.
“Is something the matter?” Eastmoor asked, seeming to realize suddenly just how forlorn Alaric was behaving. “Even for you, this is…” He leaned back, his brow furrowing. “A truly depressed state of being.”
“Me? I am fine,” Alaric said a little too quickly. “Why should I not be?”
“That is what I am wondering.”
“My life has never been better…” His stomach twisted at the lie.
“It just so happens that I am finally free from the bonds of marriage, upon which I was practically forced. Clara has…” He grimaced but forced himself to straighten.
“She has left me, sent to places unknown, and for that, I could not be happier. I am free, Eastmoor. Hence my sunny disposition.”
“Ah…” Sebastian sighed. “Yes, no wonder you are so taken by positivity. Brimming with it, in fact.”
“As I should be.”
“A drink then?” Sebastian suggested. “To celebrate this most welcome news?”
“I thought you would never ask.” Alaric turned and bade his friend to follow him up the stairs and toward his study.
There he was quick to pour himself another glass of whiskey, and then one for Sebastian, which he thrust into the man’s chest before stumbling back and falling into his seat.
“It was getting too crowded here for my liking anyway,” he said, more to himself than his friend. “You know how I like my own company.”
“And it is such good company at that.”
He chuckled bitterly. “A toast then?” He raised his glass. “To… to…” His stomach continued to twist so that he might be sick. “To freedom, bachelorhood, and having no one to concern myself with but me.” He took a sip and sucked through his teeth at the tart taste.
The Duke of Eastmoor did not join him in the toast. He stood across the room, drink in hand, watching Alaric with a sense of concern that was not common for the duke. But that just told of how strangely Alaric was behaving, enough that even Sebastian was surely feeling worried.
“It’s funny in some ways,” Sebastian said after some time. “These lies we tell ourselves. That we repeat ad nauseam as if saying it enough times makes it true.”
Alaric scoffed, but it was a pitiful thing. “Who says that I am lying?”
“You did, Alaric,” he responded simply. “Not with your words, for they are the right ones if you wish to keep the lie in play. But do not insult my intelligence by thinking you might fool me. I am far too perceptive and intelligent for that.”
“I…” Alaric felt his resolve faltering. “I do not know what you mean.”
“What happened?” His tone turned sharp, dismissive of any attempts Alaric might make to press the lie. And as he spoke, he looked right at Alaric with a hardened stare that seemed to see through him, into his soul, dissecting Alaric like a surgeon with a scalpel.
Alaric thought to double down on the lie.
He thought of telling Sebastian, the Duke of Eastmoor, that he was wrong, that he did not know him nearly as well as he claimed, and that he needed to leave at once, as he was starting to frustrate!
But his stomach continued to twist itself into knots, the guilt he had been feeling all day shamed him like nothing else, and just like that, Alaric’s stern defense and the walls he had spent a lifetime erecting crumbled to the ground.
“It does not matter what happened,” he sighed and bowed his head. “It is done now, and there is no taking it back.”
“You asked her to leave?”
“Worse…” So embarrassed was Alaric that he could not bring himself to look at his friend. “I had my uncle do it for me. Do you believe that?” He laughed bitterly. “The coward that I am, I could not even ask her to leave me.”
“Your uncle?” Sebastian frowned. “And he agreed to do it…” He trailed off as if realizing something suddenly. “Ah, of course he did. Let me guess, he was happy to do it. Damn eager, if I know the man.”
“I had no choice,” Alaric pleaded, more for his own sense of worth than anything else.
“What was happening between Clara and me was dangerous. No chance at a happy ending, for that is not how these things go. I…” For a second, a smile flickered across his lips before he smothered it.
“I forgot that about myself. I wanted to forget – to pretend otherwise.”
“And your uncle reminded you, I take it.”
Alaric nodded. “He reminded me of my past and the danger I was putting Clara in. Not to mention our family name. And he was right to…” He said the words, but he didn’t believe them as he wished to. “I was a fool to forget, and Clara deserves better.”
“Better than what?”
“You know what,” Alaric snapped suddenly. “She came to me for protection, an irony she did not understand, but I knew only too well. It was wrong of me to bring her into this home. I…” He winced as he felt a stabbing pain through his chest. “I did her a favor in sending her away.”
“And does Clara agree with this assessment? Somehow, I doubt it very much.”
“She will,” Alaric said. “In time, my hope is that she will understand what I did and why I did it. This was for her, Sebastian…” He looked to his friend, caring not how weak he was acting, how vulnerable he had become. Let him see it. It will be the last time I ever let myself feel this way.
“Alaric…” Sebastian’s tone turned toward pity. “Your uncle is wrong about you. You do not need to listen to him –”
“I do,” Alaric cut him off. “He is right to be worried. Ever since…” He grimaced, unable to say it. “Ever since that incident, he has done nothing but try to save this family. I owe him everything.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I do.”
Again, Sebastian sighed with pity. He walked to the table and put down his drink, still untouched. Then he looked down at Alaric, his brow furrowed, sadness taking him in a way uncharacteristic of the cynical duke. “What happened to Helena was not your fault.”
Alaric flinched. “Please, do not…”
“I know you enjoy blaming yourself, Alaric. I know you take some sort of sick pleasure from playing the villain. But anyone who knows what happened knows that you were not at fault for her death. You might claim it. You might live with it. But the simple fact is that your father –”
“Don’t!” Alaric’s head snapped up, and he snarled.
“I do not know why you are here. I do not know what you want. But do not think to… to try and placate me. I don’t deserve it.
Helena died because of me, and where I cannot take that back, I can make sure that it never happens again!
” He was on his feet, although he didn’t remember standing.
“Which I have done. Clara may hate me. She may loathe the thought of me. But she will live, and if the consequence of that is… is this.” He gestured about the office as if to indicate his sorrow. “So be it.”
“Is that how you really feel?”
“It is,” he sneered.
Sebastian sighed and shook his head. “Another lie, but I will not press the issue. In fact, I am starting to wonder why I bothered coming to see you.”
“That makes the two of us.”
“I wish I could say it has been a pleasure, Alaric, but unlike you, I am not so good at spewing lies as if they were truths.” He turned and walked to the door, stepping through it before turning back.
The final look he offered was again dripping in pity, which in turn had Alaric’s anger fading because, dammit, he hated being felt sorry for.
“You do not need to hate yourself as you do, Alaric. Nor do you deserve the pain you put yourself through. I just pray that one day you come to realize this before it is too late.”
“Get out,” Alaric snarled. “Now.”
Sebastian shook his head and then turned and left.
Alone once more, Alaric collapsed back in his seat, snatching at the half-filled glass of whiskey and throwing it back in a single mouthful.
He could hear the sound of Sebastian walking through the house, across the foyer, and then out the front door.
And when he was gone… silence, once again, he was the only companion.
I did the right thing. The only thing. It hurts now, but Clara will come to thank me. That is the truth, and I much believe that.
Easy words to think, harder words to believe.
The pain sat fresh with Alaric, the misery not far behind.
Once, he had relished his isolation, thinking it was deserved and the best he could hope for.
Now, he loathed it, unable to escape the niggling sense that he had made a grave mistake and would spend the rest of his life regretting it.
Clara will thank me for it… she will be happy… she is the one I did this for… Words repeated, words not believed. Not even for a second.